Mohawk

like us.” Having turned his back on Mrs. Grouse, he appeared to have forgotten her completely, and she then felt self-conscious about being in her own living room, much of which was blocked out by the broad expanse of the man’s leather-coated back. When she announced that if no one minded she would go upstairs and help with the dishes, neither man seemed to hear.
    She didn’t go directly upstairs, though. Without knowing why, she went into the bathroom and lingered there. She washed her hands in cold water and driedthem carefully, trying to understand her reluctance to leave her husband alone with this man who, now that she thought about it, hadn’t even introduced himself. Despite the beautiful leather coat and his otherwise respectable appearance, the man was somehow unclean. When she finished at the sink, she turned out the bathroom light and stood quietly beneath the darkened door frame, hoping to overhear something of the conversation taking place two rooms away. With both the kitchen and the bathroom lights off, she decided it would be safe to sneak a peek into the living room. When she did, however, she received a jolt. The angle was wrong to see her husband, but the other man, who had seated himself on the sofa where Mrs. Grouse herself usually sat, was staring across the dark expanse of dining room at the doorway so that when Mrs. Grouse’s head appeared, their eyes met in the split second before Mrs. Grouse withdrew as if from a flame. Getting caught flustered her. She was by no means an inexperienced spy, though sneaking up on Mather Grouse required no extraordinary talent. Their visitor, however, was apparently a different sort of man. He had met her only five minutes before, yet had predicted her behavior, something Mather Grouse seldom did after forty-some years of marriage.
    The more she thought about it, the more Mrs. Grouse doubted the evidence of her own senses. In all probability the man had not seen her at all. With the lights out in the dining room, kitchen and bathroom, he couldn’t have seen her; he just happened to be gazing in her general direction.
    Mrs. Grouse was tempted to verify this second theory by peeking in again, but she did not dare. What if she were caught a second time? Instead of risking it,she turned and flushed the toilet to account for her presence in the bathroom and hurried out into the dark kitchen without even glancing into the living room. On the way upstairs she thought of, for some reason, the afternoon when she had been immobilized while her daughter had worked purposefully over Mather Grouse. Why she should have suddenly remembered that vexing scene was beyond her. Still, it might not be a bad idea to have her daughter go downstairs just to make sure. Though Mrs. Grouse was sure that everything was fine.
    It was the boy who came down, though, all too happy to surrender the dish towel to his grandmother and curious as well about his grandfather’s guest. Randall immediately recognized the man he had seen a month earlier in the park. He had waited then, because the two men appeared so confidential, returning to the bandshell only when he saw the large man shuffling away and his grandfather slumping on the bench. This man was again leaning forward confidentially, speaking quietly. “He has no money,” the man was saying, “unless someone gave him some.”
    “I have not seen him in fifteen years,” Mather Grouse said. He was not looking at the other man but seemingly at a random spot on the wall above the television.
    “I thought he might’ve started up in the old way again—”
    “I have not seen him in fifteen years,” Mather Grouse repeated.
    At this point the large man noticed Randall standing in the doorway and straightened, at the same time waving him in, as if he, not Mather Grouse, were the masterof the house. “Grandma says not to tire yourself out,” Randall said, which was neither true nor untrue. She hadn’t said it just then, but she said it all the time and he felt sure she’d
meant
to say it.
    Rory Gaffney rose, towering over Randall. “The grandson!” he said enthusiastically and extended his big hand. Randall shook briefly, withdrawing his hand before the man could get a grip. “I know your father, a good man, but you look more like your grandfather. A small Mather Grouse, if ever there was one. A fine, principled young man, I’ll wager.”
    Mather Grouse had stiffened perceptibly at their handshake. “He’s a good