Trowbridge and the Cutlers had been watching home movies of some sort when Harvey rang the bell. Trowbridge was standing by the projector in the living room, while Lois and her father hung back near the entranceway, speaking to one another in very low voices. Harvey knew they were talking about him. He had not chanced a phone call to announce his arrival. His phone conversations the past week with Lois were most unsatisfactory. The best thing to do, he had decided, was to make a personal appearance. He was glad Trowbridge was there at the time. He had wanted that; he had prepared for it. He had read up on ferns, enough to carry on a small conversation about them — shoe-string ferns, rattlesnake ferns, interrupted ferns, and young fern leaves, or fiddleheads. Why shouldn’t he and Trowbridge be friends, after all? His feeling of reassurance stemmed from the fact Trowbridge was very short, and rather plump. Certainly not what Harvey had expected. Instantly, Harvey felt rather patronizing toward Trowbridge.
