“What about the redhead?” Jason turned up in the lobby of the Evanston theaters a while back when she and Maureen were on an early date. He was alone. He likes to go to movies by himself.

“Redhead?” This information has perked up her mother’s interest.

“Someone new. I met her in a cage fight.”

“You should’ve brought her,” Ricky says. Cate thinks Ricky and Maureen might even enjoy each other. They come at life with a similar ruthlessness, although Ricky’s is aboveboard. She’s trying to beat the world at its own game. Maureen is palming aces. But, of course, Ricky couldn’t like Maureen, on principle, her principle.

“Right. You can’t even look at my girlfriends directly, just sideways. Like they’re solar eclipses or nuclear tests in the desert.”

“Your sexual orientation isn’t a big problem, just peculiar and a little embarrassing. Like some odd hobby I have to explain away to friends. Bavarian folk dancing. Like you’re always lurching off to Munich for festivals.” Ricky goes to the refrigerator and pulls out a bottle of sparkling water. “Plus, of course, it’s sordid.”

This last comment isn’t part of their little sparring routine. It lies on the other side of a barely discernable line. Jason sees this, and takes the awkward silence as an opportunity to head back to the den and his tree book.

Ricky presses on. “Let’s just say you’re not what I was planning on. I wanted someone who would marry a lawyer and have a couple of interesting kids and then the husband would have an affair, but they’d get through it, and she’d get into local politics. She’d run for alderman—”

“At least you didn’t have anything specific in mind.”

Her mother moves along to the next station in this conversation. “I have some stuff for you. I was going through all the crap in the attic.”

“Sounds promising. Crap from the attic.”

Ricky goes upstairs, then comes back down with a small cardboard box. “In case you can use any of this in a play sometime. This is all from my grade school days.”

Cate pulls out a turquoise transistor radio.

“Oh wow,” she says, unfolding a felt skirt with a poodle appliqued on its front. “You could get good money for this on eBay.”

“No, you take it.”

Cate pulls a long piece of green gabardine from the bag. “I never saw this. You never showed it to me. What is it, a sash?”

“I know it must be hard for you to see me as a Girl Scout, but as you can see, I picked up quite a few merit badges.”

“I see. Yes. Here you go. Swimming. Campfire.”