For now the girls, happy without knowing why, ran through the kitchen and up the stairs where Caroline changed out of her school clothes, that, while not new, were clean and without holes. Betty smiled at the sink as they tumbled back down the stairs and hugged her around the legs.

“You fold them up?”

They chattered assent. Irma stayed close to her legs, at five still hungry for physical contact, while Caroline told her about school. They fought over the Hershey’s bar Betty had bought, though for once there was enough to go around. Simon and Lester arrived. Simon always hurried from the high school to the junior high to walk Lester home, even though he knew the way. Better two of us than one. Better four fists than two. When they did come home bruised and bloody they were triumphant and proud that they had held their ground. Betty was proud, too. She always made sure that her boys finished things, but didn’t start them. Your daddy wasn’t a troublemaker so you better not start nothin, she always said. When they came in after a fight she did not scold or hover. Instead she treated them like men. Gave them space to calm down, got them glasses of water, and let Simon smoke cigarettes in the house.

They dropped their books on the couch and sauntered into the kitchen where, once they were away from the juvenile eyes on the street or at school, they began tickling their sisters to make them drop the candy bar they had tried to stuff hurriedly in their mouths as soon as they heard the front door slam. Clutching the last pieces of melting chocolate, the girls jumped up squealing and ran to the back door. Simon and Lester ran after them and Betty felt a surge of contentment as she coined the carrots at the sink.

She heard screams from the back and the screen door banged shut. Betty leaned away from the sink.

“Don’t play so goddamn rough! I work at a hospital. I don’t run one.”

The kids trooped in sweaty and flushed.

“They take your candy?” Betty asked Irma.

The girl slouched into a chair and nodded. Betty leveled her eyes at Lester.

“I took it but I gave it back.”

Betty swiveled back to look at Irma with raised eyebrows. Irma looked down at the floor.

“Come here, baby. Get that chair and help me peel these here potatoes.”

Irma slid her chair over and climbed on. She stood next to her mother and took the paring knife.

“You’d better eat these spuds and grow a couple inches, instead of dicing them. You ain’t bigger than a sliver.”