“You are very level-headed,” said Jean.

“I’m sure she’ll grow out of it, but thank you for mentioning it. I wouldn’t want her to have any secrets from me.”

“Parenthood is quite a minefield.”

“I haven’t found it to be yet,” Gretchen said. “They say the difficult years are ahead.”

They glanced down the garden to where Margaret and Lizzie were chasing the swooping shuttlecock as it caught the breeze. Their high cries of laughter chimed like bells. Presently the two girls gave up, exhausted, and flung themselves down on the grass, panting. It was hard to imagine any turbulent emotions ever clouding their innocent faces.

Gretchen excused herself and went indoors to fetch the tea. Seeing Jean momentarily abandoned, Howard left off his toiling in the vegetable patch and came to join her, carrying a basket of freshly harvested rhubarb, beetroot and lettuce. As a concession to casual wear he had undone his top button and loosened his tie. Now he hastily redid it, leaving a muddy smudge on his collar.

“Would you like to take some of these home with you?” he asked, laying the basket at her feet for inspection. “We have a glut in some areas.”

“I’d love to,” said Jean. “I’m very partial to rhubarb.” The crop looked indecently healthy; some of the stems were dark pink and as thick as her wrist. A spirit of mischief entered her and she said, “I’ve never seen anyone wear a shirt and tie to weed a vegetable patch before.”

He looked nonplussed for a moment and then smiled. “Oh, well, I think formal dress shows the slugs and blackfly who’s boss.”

Gretchen had appeared in the doorway carrying a laden tea tray in time to hear this exchange.

“Howard is the only man I know who wears a jacket and tie to the beach,” she said as he sprang forward to relieve her of the teapot, which was slipping dangerously.

He endured the women’s laughter with a gracious shrug.

“It’s a matter of eliminating unnecessary decisions,” he said.

Having put down the tray, Gretchen snapped open a dish towel and held it under her chin, concealing her upper body. “Now, what color blouse am I wearing today?”

Howard looked stricken. “Pink? White? I’m sure it’s very pretty whatever color it is.”

Gretchen whisked aside the dish towel to reveal her primrose-yellow blouse.

“I remember now,” Howard said, shamefaced. “Miss Swinney will think I’m a monster.”

“It’s Jean now,” said Gretchen. “We are not being formal anymore.”

Margaret and Lizzie had joined the table. There were only three chairs, so they sat on cushions on the back steps with plates on their knees.

“Is that a new teapot?” asked Margaret.

“No, it’s not new. It’s rather old—older than you, in fact,” said her mother, beginning to pour.

“Well, I’ve never seen it before.”

“It’s the one we use when we have visitors,” said Gretchen.

Not completely done with formality then, thought Jean.

“But we never have visitors, apart from Great Aunt Edie, and she gets the brown teapot.”