(5)

Linda clicked the “send” on the e-mail to her brother as Mark came in through the kitchen door. She heard “I’m home!” while she twisted to a stand, and she strode with rare eagerness to hear how school had been. The day before, Day 1 as she couldn’t help thinking of it, Mark had torn into the house aglow with enthusiasm for the class and admiration for the teacher. It had been Mr. Chapelle this and Mr. Chapelle that all evening.

The class was taught by a volunteer listed as L.V. Chapelle. The man, according to Mark’s report, was tall and very thin, with salt & pepper hair, and glasses. Apparently the guy marched into the class first day and announced he was a gambler. That got the little delinquents’ attention. Mr. Chapelle said he put himself through college playing bridge for money and hearts for tips. He told the kids that by the end of their summer term they’d be able to hold their own with the best in the casinos. It was quite a motivating little speech.

Linda’s boy dove into probability and statistics homework that night. She never would have believed it if she hadn’t seen it.

“S’up, son?” she greeted Mark playfully.

“Dig it, Mom. I understand pi.”

“Pie?”

“Stop it,” he said. “You know what I mean. Earth-to-Mom. Math class. Pi.”

“I’m sorry.” Linda lifted the fruit bowl. “Tell me.”

“It’s not a number. It’s a relationship.” Mark swung around in his seat. His brown hair gleamed in the afternoon light. “Lend me your ring, and give me some thread and a scissors.”

Linda put the fruit on the table, brought the thread and scissors, sat, and pulled off her silver ring. “Here.”

Mark measured around the ring with the thread, trimmed it, and set it down on the table. “That’s the perimeter, or circumference, of the circle that is your ring.”

Then he measured across the ring, cut thread to size, and set it below the longer thread, with, “And that is the diameter. Now. Here’s the deal. No matter what the size of the circle, if you measure the circumference and the diameter, and divide the one by the other, you always, always, get this number which we call pi. It’s not a number. It’s what you do to a square to torque it into a circle!

“Isn’t that cool?”

Linda said, “Yeah,” and she meant it about Mark more than about pi. They grinned at one another and then she returned to her work. In addition to the job items, she had to finish Bel Canto for her reading group. A new guy, a lanky bookish fastidious perhaps-gay person, had joined last month, and he wasn’t stupid. He earned his living as a plumber but he’d had impressive things to say without even reading the last book. If she was going to speak, and the meetings bored her when she didn’t, then she’d better read and think.

(6)

Usually Jenny and Jeff didn’t discuss Jeff’s parents. They each had their own issues with Grace and Owen and most of the time Jeff saw them and argued with them or didn’t, and Jenny just avoided the get-togethers. Living in Atlanta she couldn’t duck out of everything – in fact she saw them far more often then Linda did – and Jenny had actually been known to bring a jar of her favorite vodka along in a paper bag, to anesthetize herself as needed when forced to interact with her affectionate (intrusive) in-laws. No, normally the subject of Grace and Owen just didn’t come up between Jeff and Jenny, and they would have been involved in the next step of their current home remodel, but Linda’s e-mail had them talking, and Jenny wasn’t even dismayed when she answered the phone and heard her mother-in-law’s authoritative voice.

“I have two things to say.”

“Hi Grace.”

“Hi. I just called to tell you: don’t give the plumbers a deposit of more than 10%…”

“Grace…”

“And when they’re done, pay the balance by credit card.”

“Wait.” Jenny positioned herself in front of the air conditioner vent and tried to get a breeze up her peasant blouse. “Slow down. Why only give a 10% deposit?”

“That’s all you’re legally required to give.”

“Legal schmegal.” Jenny scratched under her breasts and signaled Jeff to take the phone, but he was looking at the paper in his lap. “They asked for one third and we thought that was reasonable. The water heater alone is more than 10% of the total. Anyway, your call’s a day late; you know they started yesterday.”

“Well, then, remember to use a card for the balance. Instead of a check.”

“Grace, you can only be giving me this advice by assuming something’s going to go wrong with the job.”

“Well you have more leverage this way.”

“We don’t need leverage. You know Jeff. He’s already friends with the guy. And the plumbing company is local and has been around forever. If there is a screw-up we won’t need to use money for leverage.”

“You can never tell. Better safe than sorry. Anyway, I’ve had this on my mind all afternoon and I wouldn’t be able to sleep if I didn’t call and tell you.”

“Thanks. Do you want to talk to Jeff?” and Jenny was finally able to hand the phone to her husband. She walked back to the air conditioning vent and tried to cool down. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror above the bar, and fluffed her short hair with dissatisfaction. She needed fresh highlights. The gray was really dulling her old blonde.

Jeff sighed when he got off the phone. “Maybe Linda’s right,” he said. “She’s got this theory of intelligence equilibrium. She says that since Dad retired and he and Mom started spending all their time together, they’ve slowly approached equivalent intelligence. Mom has gotten more liberal and well-read while he’s dumbed down behind the shopping cart.” Jeff clasped his fingers behind his neck and stretched his elbows out.

“Or maybe that’s just Linda getting intellectual on us again,” Jenny replied. Jeff looked pudgier to her. She wished he had better forearms. “You’d better answer her e-mail.” She turned on the TV.