“Great,” Billy repeated. But his thoughts were not on the professor or on archaeology. His eyes and thoughts were focused on the space between the trees where a moment before he had seen the mailman’s white hand wave slowly and lovingly good-bye.

7

Howard pulled into the driveway at seven sharp. It was still light out, but the blue in the east was quietly being usurped by purple, and there was an orange tinge to the pale sky in the west. Billy was sitting on the couch and was right in the middle of a M.A.S.H. rerun when Tritia turned off the TV and kicked him upstairs. He complained loudly, but hurried up the steps nonetheless. He was not comfortable around adults, and he usually hid each time they had friends over. Watching him tromp loudly up the stairs, his mother couldn’t really blame him. She’d felt the same way herself when she was his age.

“I’ll call you when dinner’s ready,” she said. “You can come on down and get some food.”

“Okay.”

Doug stood up and went to open the door.

“Don’t say anything about Bob unless he brings the subject up first,” Tritia suggested. “We’re supposed to be cheering him up, taking his mind off his troubles.”

He shook his head, pressing past her. “I’m not entirely dim, you know.”

She smiled. “Just trying to counteract the Hobie Beecham influence.”

“Thanks.” Doug pulled open the door while Tritia hurried into the kitchen to check on the food, stepping onto the porch just as Howard started up the stairs. “Glad you could make it,” he said.

The postmaster smiled. “Glad you invited me.” He was wearing his equivalent of dress clothes: new dark-blue jeans, a starched white-and-rose cowboy shirt, and an agate bolo tie. His boots had been shined and his hair slicked back and held in place with some sort of wet-looking gel. In his hand was a gift-wrapped bottle.

“Come in,” Doug said, holding the door open. Howard stepped past him, and both of them moved into the house.

Tritia was taking off her apron, and she moved forward to greet their guest. She, too, had dressed up for the occasion and was wearing a low-cut black dress, matching turquoise bracelet and necklace, and silver antique earrings. Her brown hair was done up in a sophisticated roll. She accepted the proffered present graciously. “Thank you,” she said. “But you really didn’t have to bring anything.”

“I wanted to.” Howard looked at her and shook his head appreciatively. “You sure look mighty beautiful today.” He turned to Doug. “I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again, you’re a lucky man.”