He was still thinking about the bicycle, Roy could tell. None of the gifts they’d set on the patio table was larger than a shirt box. But this mythical Sting-Ray wasn’t hiding around the corner of the house, or locked in the storeroom, with a big red bow tied to its handlebars. It made Roy’s chest sink beneath his shirt, knowing Matt was going to be disappointed. The boy was maybe even wondering if a disassembled bike was waiting for him under the blanket in Walter’s car. Roy caught himself wondering the same thing. Would his father do that? Trump him with a gift so much nicer than anything he and Teresa could afford? Did bicycles come disassembled?

They’d written “From Joseph and Frankie” on a set of plastic army men packaged in a miniature U-boat, and “From Katherine” on a diver’s mask and snorkel. “Thanks,” the boy said politely upon opening each gift, but with the enthusiasm of someone receiving a consolation prize. The largest box, “From Mom and Dad,” Teresa lifted herself and plopped down on Matt’s lap as if to impress him with its weight, though it was certainly lighter than anything he could ride down the street. He tore off the wrapping paper and stared at the box. “What’s a Slip’N Slide?”

“You haven’t seen those commercials?” Roy asked. “The kids in those commercials are going out of their minds with fun.”

“I’ve seen them,” Helen said. She was holding Frankie in her lap, bouncing him up and down. “That’s the best gift anyone could ever receive.”

“How is it a slide?” Matt asked, tilting the box, frowning at its size.

“Just open it,” Roy said. “Something tells me we might need the hose for this. And bathing suits.”

Katherine let go of a handful of grass. “Can I put on my swimsuit?”

“Absolutely.”

“Swimsuit!” Joseph parroted from between Walter’s legs.

Matt was still staring at the present. “I don’t get it.”

“Well, open it, honey,” Teresa said. Matt took the lid off the box. What lay inside looked like a deflated life raft, or a rain slicker. He lifted the folded mass of bright yellow vinyl and bent it in half.

“Watch this,” Roy said. He got up from his lawn chair and took the present out of Matt’s hands. With a few snaps of his arms, the slide expanded into a twenty-five-foot runway that drifted down across the lawn. “Now for some water.” He stepped around Walter to the side of the house where the hose lay coiled on the grass. Tugging the free end around the legs of Walter’s chair, he stretched it across the corner of the patio. There was a nozzle in the slide, and he screwed the hose onto it, then fast-stepped back to the spigot.

“Maybe I should go get our present out of the car now,” Walter said.