Mr. Barker asked when Paul stopped at the store after school on Thursday. “The missus was asking about you last night. Said she wanted you to come for a meal real soon. I told her maybe you wouldn’t be around forever, maybe you’re going to live with your mom, and she said not to sneak away without letting us know where we can reach you. Leave your address, telephone number.” Mr. Barker swabbed down the front of his glass cases, smudged with a myriad of small fingerprints and even nose prints. Boldly Paul said, “I could come tomorrow.” Even as he spoke, blood ran into his cheeks. He was ashamed of being so forward, but he really wanted Mrs. Barker to invite him for supper Friday. “So far’s I know, we got no plans,” Mr. Barker said. “I’ll ask her, and you stop by tomorrow so’s I can let you know for sure. That way your grandma’d have a night off and not have to cook for you. It must be kind of hard, a woman her age having to keep up with a young one like you.”
