Slowly and carefully (and with some expertise) he painted each nail in turn. Then he moved over to the other side of my chair and painted the nails of...my other hand. I held them up and looked them over: he'd done a very nice job. "There's a clear lacquer as well." I said. "Yes, Miss." I let him sit still for a few minutes while the polish dried, then set him off coating my nails again. It was lovely, feeling his hand in mine as he carefully, methodically re-painted my nails. Funny to think just. We took the train together and his dad drove me home.”“You could have called. Have you eaten?”“On the train.” She picked up her heavier suitcase and carried it up the stairs with her.“That couldn’t have been enough. There are left-overs in the refrigerator ... Really, dear, Andy shouldn’t have come in. You shouldn’t have invited him.”“He wasn’t going to leave my bag on the front porch.” Andy had carried her luggage another eight feet horizontally, keeping his dad waiting and standing with his. More

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