Spencerville

was something foreboding about it, Keith thought, something portentous about the autumn wind that blew the summer away and turned the land into hues of red and gold, which were deceptively pleasant harbingers of the dark season. As much as he wanted to stay, he was somehow glad he wouldn’t be here much longer.
    Keith ran into his aunt in the parking field, and she told him how pleased she was that he’d come to church, then invited him to Sunday dinner. Unable to think of a polite way to refuse—except to say that he’d rather watch the Redskins game and drink beer, which she wouldn’t think was polite—he accepted.
     
    *  *  *
     
    At the appointed hour, around kickoff time, he arrived at Aunt Betty’s with a bottle of French red Burgundy. Aunt Betty studied the label awhile, mouthing the French words, then put the bottle in the refrigerator. It didn’t matter, because as it turned out, she didn’t own a corkscrew anyway, and Keith sat in the living room with a glass of caffeine-free instant iced tea with too much sugar in it.
    Also invited to dinner were some of the people he’d seen at the Labor Day barbecue—his mother’s other cousin, Zack Hoffmann, and Zack’s wife, Harriet, and their grown daughter, Lilly, and Lilly’s husband, Fred. With Lilly and Fred were their three young boys, whose names Keith didn’t catch and who were too young to demand that the Redskins-Cleveland game be turned on. The boys went outside and played in the yard.
    Keith made small talk, aware that these people were related, and kept the conversation going by playing the family-tree game. Keith actually found it interesting in some essential, tribal way.
    At dinner, which was traditional roast beef, gravy, mashed potatoes, peas, and biscuits—the sort of American food that had disappeared from the nation’s capital two decades ago—Harriet, still on the family-tree subject, mentioned, “My sister, Dorothy, married Luke Prentis. I think you know the Prentis family, Keith.”
    He looked at her and remembered why she looked familiar.
    “I believe you once went out with my niece, Annie.”
    “Yes.”
    “She married one of the Baxter boys. Cliff. He’s chief of police.”
    Keith wondered if he could open the wine bottle with a screwdriver.
    Zack looked up from his roast beef and said, “I heard they had a meeting about Cliff Baxter at St. James. That fella is a…” He glanced at the boys and said, “… is a wild one, if you want my opinion.”
    Lilly and Fred agreed. Aunt Betty was oblivious, and the boys asked permission to be excused, which was granted.
    Zack watched them go, then leaned forward and said in a conspiratorial tone, “I heard he fooled around. They had some woman up there in the church, and brazen as can be she told everyone she and Cliff Baxter was up to somethin’.”
    Aunt Betty asked, “Does anyone want seconds?”
    Harriet turned to Keith and asked him, “Have you seen Annie since college? ”
    “No.”
    Fred said, “I hear there was another woman up there, Mary Arles, and she and her husband, Bob, own that gas station on 22, and she told how Cliff Baxter would help himself to things in their convenience store, then make her put the charge on the town gas bill.”
    Harriet said, “My sister was at that meeting, and what she heard about her son-in-law’s fooling around made her sick.” She looked at Keith.
    Keith listened to the conversation, noting that Fred and Zack were more concerned about the police chief’s financial misdeeds than his marital transgressions, while Lilly and Harriet were fixated on the sanctity of marriage.
    Lilly said, “If I heard that my husband was fooling around, I’d kick him out without another thought.”
    Fred didn’t look like the type who would or could fool around, Keith thought, but having been forewarned, he looked almost chastised.
    Aunt Betty said, “There’s plenty more in the kitchen.”
    Harriet said to Keith, “I wouldn’t be surprised if she walked out on him.”
    “Who?”
    “Annie.”
    “Oh… right. The spouse is usually the last to know.”
    “My niece is a saint,” Harriet said. “She raised two fine children and keeps that house like a showcase for him. She deserves better.”
    Lilly said to her mother, “Someone should let her know, in case she doesn’t know. If it was my husband doing that, and no one told me, they wouldn’t be my friend, I’ll tell you that.” She looked at Fred, whom Keith was beginning to