This time Barbara had hidden the cookie canister in her closet, so Gordy could not find it and eat up all the cookies before Bill brought her home from school on his Vespa. Barbara had been telling Bill about Rosemary and Greg and how they planned to continue school after they were married. “Good cookies,” said Bill, reaching for another. “Thank you,” answered Barbara. How nice he looked with his shirt open at the throat—tanned, healthy, confident. “You’re a good cook,” said Bill. Barbara smiled modestly. The cookies had been bought already mixed and chilled at the supermarket. All she had to do was peel off the plastic wrapper, slice them, and bake them. She was taking chemistry, and there was, after all, a limit to the number of cookies she had time to bake, even for Bill Cunningham. “I think you should kiss me,” said Bill suddenly. With effort Barbara managed to hide her startled feelings. Was he joking? Or did Bill really want to kiss her? “What for?” Barbara appeared calm, a little detached, as if kissing Bill was an impersonal matter she could consider and either accept or reject on its merits.
