Seven Minutes to Noon

skinny hips and waited for a rebuttal. There was none.
    “Okay, sweetie,” Alice said. “I’ll call Judy and ask her if she can help us get your truck back, okay? It isn’t really lost — we know where it is. You’ll get it back, I promise.”
    Reassured, Peter ran back through the park and into the big kids’ side of the playground, chasing Nell up a ladder and down a slide. Alice pulled out the business card Judy had given her, figuring she’d find a cell phone number and could catch Judy before she got too far, but there was just an office contact. A little bit relieved not to have to speak with that strange woman again, so soon after their awkward conversation at the corner, Alice left a voice mail about arranging to go back to the house to get Peter’s lost toy.
    The call wasn’t returned until the next night, Sunday. Judy’s voice sounded muted, almost slurred, Alice thought, as she delivered two messages:
    “Congratulations, they accepted your offer! Also, I’ve got your son’s fire truck. It’s in my purse. I’ll be home all day tomorrow waiting for the dishwasher repairman as if I have nothing better to do with my time than waitfor the dishwasher repairman between the hours of eight and five. Eight and five! As if I have nothing better to do!”
    Alice wasn’t sure, but before Judy ended the call with her home address, her voice seemed to spiral out of control. Was she actually weeping?

Chapter 26
    Judy Gersten lived on Douglass Street just off Court, in one of the blue clapboard houses scattered around the neighborhood that stood out from the typical brown-stones or brick townhouses. Alice climbed the front stoop, rang the front bell and waited. It was only a quarter to nine but Judy had specifically said she was expecting the dishwasher repairman some time after eight, so it couldn’t have been too early. Even so, no one came to the door. It occurred to her that she knew nothing about Judy, whether she lived alone or with a large family, a husband or a lover, male or female. And she had been so upset last night; maybe something had changed her plans. Alice rang again.
    Finally the front door cracked open and one of Judy’s watery blue eyes squinted at her visitor, registering what appeared to be a total lack of recognition. Alice was tempted to apologize and leave, but she had promised Peter the fire truck when he got home from school today.
    “Is it too early?” Alice asked. “I came by for my son’s toy.”
    Judy swung open the door. She was wearing a champagne-colored satin robe that fell open over a pair of old drawstring pants and a man’s undershirt with no bra underneath. Without the second skin of her composure, Judy seemed raw and comfortable. Oddly, she looked both older and younger. Alice found herself moredrawn to this Judy than to the professional Judy who had shown her the house. Until, that is, she spoke.
    “It’s right over here,” Judy said. “I’ll get it.”
    Alice was hit by the oaky twang of whiskey. So that was it; Judy was drunk. But Alice wanted Peter’s fire truck and so followed Judy inside. The living room was a comfortable mess, French provincial, and well used.
    “I’ll just take the truck and get out of your hair,” Alice said.
    “Oh, my hair !” Judy sounded like she would weep. “What do I care about my hair ?”
    It was even worse than Alice had thought. “Maybe I’ll come back later.”
    “Just wait, will you?” Judy’s voice sounded weak, pathetic.
    The morning paper was spread open on a divan in front of a tall window with a rose-scattered ivory sconce. Next to the divan, on the floor, was a mug with Judy’s coffee, an oily, amber liquid anyone would recognize as booze.
    Judy rifled through her purse while Alice’s eye caught something in the newspaper that gave her a jolt. She inched closer to the divan. It looked like a photograph of Julius, a strange picture because he was smiling and she had never seen him smile before. He had his arm around another man. There was a headline above the article, but Alice couldn’t read it upside down before Judy came up beside her.
    “Thanks.” Alice turned away from the newspaper and took the little red truck. Up close, Judy looked more than drunk, she looked distraught. Alice wondered if it was not the whiskey that had upset her, but something else. “Are you okay?” Alice asked.
    “Oh, I’m just fine!” Judy said dramatically. She walked over to a couch against a brick wall and