Chapter 12

Meg fixed them supper, hot dogs and rolls with red cabbage out of a can plus a leafy salad with tomatoes and carrots. She had been cleaning out his refrigerator. He told her about Joe Shorts and his mother and their grand home and various antiques, big lawn and old trees.

"She looks, I don't know, fragile, very thin. She's a worrier, a stylish worrier, a Jewish mother." He laughed. "You know what I mean."

"All mothers are worriers, it's part of the package. Perfectly normal."

"His father may call me. I left my number."

"I changed mine at school. Miss Price didn't bat an eye." She grinned at him.

"Shall we get married?" he asked quietly, leaning back and smiling at her. "You know I love you." He blinked at her, hesitating. "Well, don't you?"

"No, thanks, fine proposal, sir, if a bit on the plain side, but I think I'd rather live in sin for a while, new experience. They still call it that? What's better for income tax? How old are you anyhow?"

"Joint filing is better I think. My wife did all that. Recently I just hired an accountant." He smiled at her. "I'm a hundred and two, I think, most days, lately a bit less. Creaky you might say. Uninsurable but eager to learn."

"OK, lets, why not, lots of people do, have for some time I'm told, acceptable behavior and all that. We can get married I guess. I mean, why not?" She smiled and took a bite of her hotdog. "Never planned on being one of those old maid school teachers."