Our Souls at Night

23

Addie said, You don’t need to do that.

Yes I do, Ruth said. I want to repay the favor. For taking me out.

What can I bring, then?

Just bring yourself. And Louis and Jamie.

In the afternoon they went to the back door of Ruth’s old houseem; margin-top: 3em; margin-bottom: 2em; text-align: ed ar) and she came out across the porch in her slippers and house dress and apron, her face and thin cheeks red from cooking. She let them in. Bonny was whining at the bottom of the steps. Oh, let her come in too. She won’t be any trouble. The dog came scrambling up into the house. They followed and went into the kitchen, where the table was already set. It was very warm because of the oven. I was going to have us eat in here. But it’s too hot now.

Louis stood in the doorway. You want to move to the dining room?

That’s so much bother.

We’ll just move everything in there. What if I open some of these windows.

Well, I doubt they’ll even open. You can try.

He pried at the bay windows with a screwdriver and got two to open.

Oh. You did it. Well, men are good for some things. I’ll say that much.

Damn right, Louis said.

They ate a supper of macaroni and cheese casserole and iceberg lettuce with Thousand Island dressing and canned green beans and bread and butter and iced tea poured from an old heavy glass pitcher and there was Neapolitan ice cream for dessert. The dog lay at Jamie’s feet.

After supper Ruth took Jamie into the living room and showed him the pictures on the walls and on the bureau while Addie and Louis cleared the dishes and washed up.

Look here, she said. Where do you think this is?

I don’t know.

This is Holt. This is how Holt looked back in the 1920s. Ninety years ago.

The boy looked up at her old thin wrinkled face ann Louis raised