“It’s my arthritis,” said Ida. “I can’t do all that rubbing.”

“What good is that daughter of yours out in California?” The Meals-On-Wheels girl took down the silver pitcher and turned it in her hands. “Look at this pretty thing, it’s plumb black.”

“She calls me up on the long-distance telephone every night.”

“To see if you’re live or dead, that’s all she wants to know. I bet she doesn’t even come Thanksgiving.”

“Well, she has her family.”

But the Meals-On-Wheels girl was rummaging under the kitchen sink for the silver polish and a rag. “You sit down and keep me company while I work. Talk to me, sing me some songs.”

It had been a long time since Ida had kept anybody company. It felt good to sit and talk about just anything at all. “My neighbor Louise thought John James Audubon was living in her attic,” she said. “That’s why they took her off to Shady Rest.”

“John James Audubon was a born liar,” said the Meals-On-Wheels girl. “He never told the truth once in his whole life. I wouldn’t want a man like that living in my attic. You couldn’t count on him.”

“That’s exactly what Louise said. He would talk all night, trying to get her to go up there with him and all those dead birds. But when anybody else came, he wouldn’t say a word.”

“He’d lay low then, wouldn’t he?”

“Louise told them, ‘Go on up there, you’ll see him.’ And they did, but all they saw was a dead chimney swift, so they took her off to Shady Rest.”

“The lying dog,” said the Meals-On-Wheels girl.

At the end of the afternoon all the forks and spoons were polished and gleaming in their rosewood box, and the Meals-On-Wheels girl left with a basket full of linen to wash with Clorox. “I’ll bring it back andiron it tomorrow and we’ll sing. I love to sing when I iron.”

“How was your day?” said Judy that night, and Ida said, “Everything is fine.”

By early November the Meals-On-Wheels girl had polished all the silver and washed all the dishes from way in the backs of cupboards and closets, and laundered and ironed all the tablecloths, napkins, and piles of useless little lacy things, heavy with embroidery.

“I’m going to start in on you next,” she told Ida. She took out a tape and measured Ida around the waist and down the back from the neck to the knee. “Bet you didn’t know I could sew. What’s your favorite color?”

“It’s blue,” said Ida.

“Heavenly blue, I should have known that.” The Meals-On-Wheels girl held one of the morning glories up to Ida’s cheek. With the cooler weather they were putting on their last lavish display of bloom, and all the windows were draped with garlands of flowers.