We've got to get him to care. ’ ‘Success?’ Her eyes narrowed. Martin said “Hi” to her in the halls every day now, a sure sign of trouble. But the orchestra had never had a finer hour, and everyone was aware of it. With a swirl of her floral chintz petticoats, she placed herself in the capacious window seat, accepted the glass Gerald handed to her, and smiled mischievously up at him. She enjoyed preparing the evening meals, the smells of potatoes roasting in the oven, the stink of onions in the pan, the crackle of chicken frying. She opened this and scrambled out—a thing she had not done for five long years of adolescence— upon the leaded space above the built-out bath-room on the first floor.
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