His fingers would lift the edges of the dough, folding it over once and then again, and then the heels of his palms would push it into the floured woo...en board. It was never hot enough for long enough to indulge in air-conditioning in this part of upstate New York, but there were Saturday mornings when it warmed quickly. He would knead for fifteen minutes, far longer than I had thought necessary, and at times he would have to stop and lift an arm, probably to wipe the sweat off of his brow. And. ‘You didn’t?’ he asked. She laughed again, ‘Hardly.’ ‘He’s nice enough,’ James said, ‘harmless guy. Extremely smart…’ Rose cut him off, ‘Have you been sent on his behalf?’ ‘No,’ it was James’ turn to laugh. ‘Did my mother tell you to come for me?’ she asked, narrowing her eyes. ‘No,’ he replied quietly. ‘So you just…were drawn here?’ He sat quietly for a minute, folded and unfolded his hands in his lap before he finally spoke up. ‘I saw a beautiful woman in a sparkling pink dress walk out. More

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