Helen winked at her. Walter told Matt, “They have to fire that main rocket just right. Too soft and they’ll get pulled into the moon’s gravity and just circle around it. Too hard and they’ll smash into the surface.”

“Pop,” Roy said. “I don’t think we have to worry about that right now.”

“Who’s worried? I’m not. They’ve got this whole deal worked out to the inch, and they’ll do it right. I’m convinced of that. By the time Matt’s up there, he’ll be able to pick which city he wants to live in. These two”—he indicated Joseph and Frankie—“will be stopping on the moon to get gas before they head off to Mars.”

“It’s Matt’s birthday,” Roy reminded him.

“Why do you think I’m holding him away from the car? I don’t want him to see his present.”

“It’s in the backseat.” Matt beamed. “There’s a blanket over it. It’s huge!”

Roy stepped forward. “Well, let’s bring it inside.”

“Negative,” Walter said. “Let’s leave it right where it is until he’s ready to open it.”

“Is that a good idea?” Helen asked him.

Walter glanced at Teresa. “I’ll bet you have a beer for me.”

“I think so,” Teresa said. She shifted Frankie to her other arm. “I have iced tea and Hawaiian Punch, too.”

“I’m thinking a beer.” Walter aimed Matt toward the house. “Steer us indoors, pilot.”

The boy charged across the lawn. Katherine ran after him. Joseph pulled at Helen’s hand until she lifted him into her arms. She told Teresa, “You look so rested.”

“Do I?”

“It’s a wonderful age, isn’t it?” Helen nodded from behind Joseph’s head, toward Frankie. “Just before they turn two. Two to about three and a half is awful. And the first six months is even worse, because you feel so helpless and tired. But look at that little angel. A-look-at-it. All it wants is to be right where it is.”

Teresa liked Helen, who never argued with anyone, who let all remarks and opinions exist around her like molecules in the air. Because her own parents had been dead for so long, and because she so earnestly wanted to please her in-laws, she’d even gotten used to calling Helen “Mom.” But the woman had a tendency to talk in circles. And it was odd hearing her discuss child rearing as if it were an industry she’d worked in all her life. She’d only raised one child.

“How are things at Sears?” Walter asked her.

“They’re good.”

“You’re selling, what, maintenance agreements?”