Ella took a swipe at the young man with her purse. “You just mind your own business, hear?”

“Sure, sure.”

“I mean it.”

Adam said that he was happy to have met the group, looked intently for a moment at Danny, and walked out with Ella. Her arm looped with his.

They drove back down the road, swung off onto the highway. By a fairly deserted section, in the general neighborhood of Ella’s home, Adam stopped the car.

“I think the wheels dropped off,” he said, grinning.

“Well, then, you just pick this little old car up and run with it,” Ella said, pleased with the crack, with Adam, with the whole wonderful evening. He had made a tremendous impression; she knew that. On everyone.

“Okay,” he said. “But first I’d like to tell you something. Do you mind if I tell you something?”

Ella was silent. He moved a little closer to her.

“I think you’re a very lovely girl, and I want to thank you for tonight.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“No, you did, really. I don’t feel like such a stranger now. I know I have a friend. I do have a friend, don’t I?”

Ella nodded, slowly. She had nothing to fear, she was certain of that now, but her heart began its ridiculous beating and she couldn’t tell why. Part of her wished that he would start the car again, another, stronger part wished otherwise.

Adam Cramer looked into her eyes, then gently took her by the shoulders and pressed his lips to hers. Nothing could have been softer.

“Thanks very much,” he said, moving back to his position behind the wheel, quickly.

The car started with unexpected noise, and within minutes Ella was saying good night.

“Again?”

She felt the pressure on her hand and returned it. “I shouldn’t go out on a school night, but—”

“Next week?”

She said, “Maybe,” and went inside and tried to sleep.

7

7

The town of Caxton lies in a small, circular valley surrounded by the humped Carmichael Mountains. These mountains blaze fierce green throughout the years, for clouds come infrequently, and there is always the sun to pick up the million glintings of light. There is a smoothness to the mountains, also, as if they had all been carefully trimmed and groomed: a placid, cared-for smoothness to them, and to the town itself. Seen from above, Caxton appears as a clutch of brown and white leaves left at the bottom of an emerald teacup.