That was it. Olive was always joking and kidding around. In a minute she’d stop crying. Dotty looked at the floor. I shouldn’t have come, she thought. It was a mistake. Her stomach felt hollow. She had thought it would be so grand, such a treat when they got together again. She had thought that when she saw Olive after all this time everything would be wonderful. Life would be as it had been before they were separated. “Don’t, Olive,” Mrs. Doherty said, her arms rigid and stiff at her sides, as if they’d been starched. “Please don’t.” Olive’s face was slick with tears as if she’d just come from a very sad movie. She wiped it on her sleeve. “I’m sorry, Mama,” she said. Then, “Where did he come from?” she asked, her eyes wide with amazement. For a minute she sounded like the old Olive. Dotty turned. Jud stood there, clutching himself. “He has to go to the bathroom,” she explained. Mrs. Doherty put out her hand. “I’ll show you,” she said to Jud. When they had gone, Olive and Dotty stared at each other.
