Marge brushed hair out of her eyes. “You know, Pete, if I were displaying the dogs, I’d have them facing each other instead of lining them up tail to trunk, elephant style—”

“That’s it,” Decker interrupted.

“That’s what was bothering you?”

“On the nose,” Decker said.

“You’re more of an aesthete than I gave you credit for.”

Decker laughed. “You know why it looks off?”

Again, Marge looked at the pieces.

“It’s the parrots, Marge,” Decker said. “The parrots are facing each other. But the dogs aren’t.”

Marge said, “So what does that have to do with the price of eggs in Outer Mongolia?”

Decker shrugged. “Maybe nothing. But I’ll ask Sis about it anyway.”

“She’ll know why the dogs aren’t facing each other?”

“Maybe she helped Mom position the pieces,” Decker said. “Just maybe she knows how much eggs cost in Asia.”

4

As she tucked the phone receiver under her chin, Rina’s attention was diverted by Hannah’s babbling. She was sitting next to her baby, the two of them playing on a comforter spread out on the living-room floor. It was a busy blanket, toys sewn into the quilting—a mirror, a teething ring, several blocks that squeaked, and lots of fuzzy decals. But Hannah had grown tired of eliciting peeps from the bunny’s tummy. She started to complain.

Of course, the phone rang. Rina made the big mistake of picking up the call. Hannah’s vocalizing increased in volume and frequency every time Rina spoke into the mouthpiece. The baby soliloquy finally culminated in a loud, wet raspberry.

“Hold on, Honey.” Rina attempted to swipe Hannah’s mouth. The baby protested with a shake of the head and a loud abababababa.

Honey said, “Should I call back later, Rina?”

“No, we’re really fine. She’s just expressing her opinion.”

“She sounds adorable,” Honey said. “I love babies. I love children. I think it’s the innocence. I should have had a dozen more.”

Honey sounded riddled with regret. So much so, Rina wondered why she didn’t have a dozen more. Within their culture, it wasn’t the least bit unusual to find families with kids numbering in the double digits. It gave Rina pause for thought. Maybe something had prevented Honey from having more. Maybe they had a lot more in common than Rina had first thought.

“Just enjoy her,” Honey went on. “I don’t have to tell you this, but they do grow up so fast. One minute they’re snuggle bunnies, the next minute, they’re big boys who’ll maybe give you a peck on the cheek on your birthday.” She giggled. “At least I get a peck. I know quite a few women whose sons refuse to touch them.”

“That’s ridiculous,” Rina said. “Negiah—men and women touching—doesn’t apply to mothers and sons.”