Mohawk

begun to relax. His first good breath hurt. The air had the sting of winter.

10
    One weekday in early November Diana Wood and Anne Grouse met for lunch at the new Holiday Inn on the highway. Anne arrived first and took a table by the window overlooking the Cayuga Creek, which wound off into the woods some thirty yards away. Her father said there were trout in the stream when he came to Mohawk as a young man. But the fish began to come out looking bulbous, and the Fish-and-Game quit stocking it. Recently there was talk of restocking, and to show that the past was past the tanneries were in favor.
    Anne smiled at the notion. The window reflected her face and she studied herself suspiciously. Her faint smile expressed little joy, but many would’ve found it lovely just the same, though she didn’t know what to make of it herself. Though no longer vain, as she once had been, she nevertheless found it pleasant to think she was still attractive. Her hair was long and blue-black. Lately she had considered cutting it short. She never wore it down any more, the way men invariably said they liked it best. Earlier in the week she overheard a man at work, one to whom she had made excuses, refer to her as “a shame,” and she took that as a compliment. In high school the boys had made the samecomment about a pretty young girl who left school to join a convent, tragically just after her breasts had started to develop.
    Di was late and Anne had nearly finished her Bloody Mary by the time her cousin slid into the booth. “Now
that’s
a fine idea,” she said, ordering the same for herself, along with another for Anne. “Are we on a schedule, I hope not?”
    Anne said she didn’t need to get back before mid-afternoon.
    “Good,” Di said. “Let’s get roaring.”
    “Have you ever
been
roaring?”
    “No,” her cousin admitted. “And it’s high time, don’t you think?”
    “I hope you won’t be disappointed. It’s more messy than anything else.”
    “I don’t care. At least it’s
my
mess. Not my mother’s. Not my husband’s.”
    “All right.” Anne wondered what had brought on her cousin’s uncharacteristic mood. Diana, after all, had majored in circumspection and graduated at the head of the class.
    “I’m sorry I’m late, but Mother threw a fit when I told her I was going to the Holiday Inn. You know how she likes to eat out. Good food
for a change
is how she puts it. I had to take her over to your mother’s to save her from a stroke.”
    “Mother’s delighted, I’m sure.”
    “Poor Uncle Mather wasn’t. You know that look of horror he gets when company comes?”
    “He’s terribly antisocial.”
    “And no good at concealing it.”
    “He isn’t about to put a welcome mat on the front porch. He says people are literal-minded.”
    “I like him anyway.”
    “Me, too.”
    “I want shrimp,” Di said with sudden conviction, without even looking at the menu. “Ice cold with cocktail sauce. These things make you hungry.” She slurped the dregs of her drink through her straw.
    They both ordered shrimp from a young waiter whom Di Wood, already a little tipsy, felt compelled to tease. “I only want them if they’re large shrimp. Are they really large?”
    “Yes, Ma’am.”
    “How many?”
    “Four to an order.”
    “And how big?”
    The waiter showed her with his thumb and index finger.
    “Curled up or stretched out?”
    “Curled up.”
    “Excellent.”
    The waiter went away and the cocktail waitress brought two more Bloody Marys. “Let’s meet here every day and get ripped,” Di suggested.
    “I’m a working woman, remember?”
    “What am I?”
    “You know what I mean.”
    Di was having far too good a time to feel miffed. She had never been able to drink, and three was two past her limit. “I’m
enjoying
this,” she said.
    “You ought to have a cocktail at home now and then. Dan would enjoy the company.”
    “I’d end up pushing the two of them into the pool.” Diana laughed out loud at the idea, then looked around guiltily, surprised by the volume of her voice and ashamed of her behavior. “If he doesn’t hurry up andhave that damned operation, I’m going to go batty. Battier.”
    “I thought it was tomorrow.”
    “Not soon enough to suit me. If he starts one more project I have to finish, I’ll strangle him. I draw the line when it comes to the car. I know how he loves to tinker, but he can’t reach—which means he has me in and out of the house. Do this, do that,