I jumped when a hand touched my shoulder. "Gracious, son, you're skittish today," said Jessie. "Are you ready to go? I have a good bit of things to get for the to-do tonight." She sighed. "A simple little after the show supper, she calls it. I've had relatives get married less fanciness."

"Mom said her and Dad's wedding supper was a pot luck at the church, and they liked it just fine. They almost had a row with the Lady's Temperence Society when he wanted to have a champagne toast, though. They finally allowed it, since the reception was in the meeting hall instead of the church basement, and he provided grape juice for the teetotalers." I paused. "I just know this 'cause she told me, 'cause I wasn't..." I started to falter, and could feel myself blushing, but there wasn't really any way out of the stupid remark now, so I finished it. "there at the time."

Jessie smiled, but it wasn't a 'laughing at the idiot' smile. "You think your church is strict? I was raised Quaker. I have relatives who still scold me because I serve alcohol to my employers. Let's go. It's going to be nice to have a big, strong man to carry my packages for me."

I don't know how she knew that I was going to insist on carrying the groceries. I mentioned it to Ray later, and he made some smart remark about being able to be read like a large print book set behind a magnifying glass. That was only true about some things, though. I hated to think that he might ever learn any different.

As we stepped out of the house Jessie said, "Do you mind a little walking, Walter?"

"Heck no. I had to walk 'most everywhere back in Iowa We only had the one old truck, and Uncle Ed needed it usually."

"Good. They leave me a station wagon, but I'll tell you the truth, I hate to drive. Boston is a nightmare of one-way streets, and the tourists? They just step off into the road any old time when they're interested in some landmark. I've nearly run some down, and I'm a careful woman. We'll take the bus--there's a stop just a few blocks away."

As we walked she said, "I'm not going to one of those new fangled supermarkets for my produce or fish. There's no telling how long they've been there. I don't trust a place that locks the leftovers up overnight. Now, we could go to Faneuil Hall, but I prefer Haymarket. There are just tons of pushcarts, and I can get my produce, fish, and meat right in one place..." She kept on talking, but I couldn't tell you what it was about. I was sorta preoccupied.

*She called him Sam. I can still hear how he sounded that first time I met him. 'The name is Colonel Samuel Flagg.' I can't imagine anyone calling him Sam. No, wait a minute. Yeah, Ray's mom just might, if he worked for her and she didn't think he could swing her some votes."

"We'll get the fruit and vegetables first, Walter, then the bread and meat, and last of all the seafood. You don't want to keep meat or seafood unchilled for long."

"No, ma'am. Mom almost skinned me one time when I put some meat out in the sink to thaw instead of in the refrigerator. She asked if I wanted to give all of us the three day bellyache. I s'ose the same goes for seafood, eventhough we don't get much of that in Iowa, except maybe what fish we can catch. Does that count?"

She looked like she was tryin' not to smile. "Yes, dear, I believe it does. Now, the silly woman insists on some sort of patriotic thing, so I'll be doing a red, white, and blue dessert, and I'll need raspberries and blueberries. Oh, that lookes like a good stall!" I watched her as she picked over the berries, haggling with the vendor. They both seemed to enjoy it.

*Not a policeman or a private detective, Mr. Iselin said. Not FBI--better than FBI. Heck, who could be better than the FBI? If it was me, I'd have to say Superman. But... But I've kinda gotten an idea about Mr. Iselin's way of thinking, and the only thing I think he would consider better than the FBI would be the CIA.* I closed my eyes. *Oh, crud. Flagg was CIA. He was so CIA, and this would be just the sort of job he'd want--workin' for someone who saw Commies behind every bush.*

"Walter?"

"Huh?" I blinked.

Jessie was lookin' at me with a little concern. "Are you all right? You were just off in your own little world."

"I'm fine. I guess maybe I didn't get too much sleep last night."

Now her eyes twinkled. "Raymond keep you up?" I blushed, and she shook her head. "I shouldn't tease you, I know, but it does me good to see him so happy. He hasn't had a lot of happiness in his life."

"I'm tryin' to change that."

Her expression was soft. "I know you are, dear." Her tone became brisk. "Now, I need some onions, some chives, and some green peppers. I'll be making a shriimp sautee. What do you think, Walter? Should I add some pimento or red pepper for color?"

I made a face. "You can leave them both out for all of me. I always unstuff my olive before I eat it." That made her laugh.

We kept making our way through the stalls. She'd given me two string bags to carry the groceries in, and they were starting to get heavy. After every purchase she had to rearrange the contents so the delicate stuff was on top, and wouldn't get smushed. I guess I should have been trying to pay more attention, so I could write Mom all about it, but...

'When I go back to the states, Ray Shaw is my ticket to a cushy job. One where I can really make a difference, shake things up.' That was what he had said while I was laying there, blood running down my cheek from where he'd cut me--while he sliced away my clothes. I'd tried to put that all out of my mind. I knew now that you never really put anything out of your mind. You pushed it into a corner and whipped it till it was small enought to be overlooked most of the time, but it never really went away.

And I guess security chief for Iselin would be the sort of job that Flagg would go for. Something in politics, where the guy had a good chance of getting into high office. But hadn't Mrs. Iselin said that Flagg could've gone to work for Iselin's running mate--the presidential candidate? Why wouldn't he have gone for that? He's an ambitious man, and I'd have thought that he would have jumped at the chance to run the president's secret service.

We stopped into a bakery, and Jessie bought several loaves of bread, white and wheat. She also bought a box of ladyfingers. Then she said, "Choose something for yourself, Walter." I started to protest, but she said, "Just humor me. I can see your nostrils twitching." I guess I had been more sniffing than breating. It smelled awful good in there. I got a coffee eclair, and she wouldn't let me pay for it. "Butcher's next."

*But if it is Flagg, and he got the job because he knew about Ray and me, his Mom and Dad acted pretty cool about me showing up. Somehow I don't think Mrs. Iselin would be all that civil, cause if she broke Ray up with a girl just because she had a problem with her father, I hardly think she'd be very tolerant of a boyfriend. Maybe he got the job just on his own qualifications without saying anything about us. That's possible, I guess.*

"Do you like lamb, Radar?"

"Oh, sure, I love lambs! I even kinda liberated one at the MASH unit. Y'see these Greek fellas were grateful to the doctors, and wanted to give them a Greek feast for spring, and they had this poor little lamb they were going to barbecue. But I managed to get him sent home to the farm, and..." I trailed off. "Oh. You mean do I like lamb." She nodded. I shrugged. "Sure. As long as I didn't know it personally."

Jessie smiled. "Maybe I'll feed you pork chops instead of lamb chops for dinner. How does that sound?"

"That would be great. I had a pet pig once."

She shook her head. "How did you keep from ending up a vegetarian?"

I looked at her in surprise. "Jessie, I grew up on a farm. The only things that were safe from getting eaten were the dogs and the cats, and if things had ever gotten lean enough... Well, the cats would have been safe, because they kept the mice down."

We headed for the fish monger's stall, and I thought, *In this case I guess it's good that Mrs. Iselin is a snob. She isn't the kind who's going to want the hired help around, even the high class hired help. I'll just have to make sure I'm upstairs when they get picked up or dropped off. Just a couple of weeks. I should be able to stay out of the way for a couple of weeks.*

"Walter?"

"Huh?" I looked around. We were back at the bus stop with a bus pulling up, the bags full, Jussie carrying an arm load.

"Walter, I almost feel like I've been on this trip alone."

"Gee, I'm sorry. I've just had a few things on my mind."

"Yes, I noticed." We got on board and settled down as the bus started to move. Her voice was quiet. "I know it's not trouble between you and Ray."

"Oh, no," I said quickly. "It's... I, uh..."

She laid a hand on my arm. "Walter, you don't have to tell me anything. If you want to, that's fine, but you don't owe me an explanation. You're making Raymond happy, and that's all that matters."

When we got back to the house, it was kind of nice--real peaceful. Jessie and I spent most of the afternoon in the kitchen. She made a trifle to use the berries, and I helped by washing and picking over the berries. She didn't even scold me when I couldn't resist and ate a couple of them. Mom did something like a trifle, but she didn't soak the ladyfingers in sherry, like Jessie did. I'd have to remember to tell her that when I got home. It sure did look pretty when she got through with it, the bright red and blue berries layered with the cake, custard, and whipped cream. I was glad that I was going to go to the supper, because it looked so good I wasn't sure they would have been able to save me any.

I was really glad when Ray came back that afternoon. I didn't go downstairs when they arrived, but I watched from the upstairs window. Only Ray, his mother, and his stepdad got out, and I felt a wash of relief. Mrs. Iselin stopped by the passenger side door, though, and whoever *I wasn't going to put a name to the guy till I had to* it was in there rolled down the window, and they talked for a minute before she came in.

Mr. and Mrs. Iselin went to their own room to get ready, so I didn't have to deal with them much. I was going to go into Ray's room, but I didn't get the chance, because he came into mine and tackled me, throwing me on the bed.

"Ray!" I squirmed under him. "You gotta take a shower and get dressed, don't you?"

Ray groaned, rubbing against me. "I don't want to, Walter. I want to stay here with you. Let them go to their damn dinner party and opera."

"You promised, Ray. And frankly, I don't want to have to listen to your Mom."

Ray sighed. "Oh, all right." He kissed me. "I won't inflict that on you." He crawled off me and sat beside me, but he also put his hand on my crotch and gave me a firm rub.

"Ray, are you trying to torture me?"

"Yes. I want you to be just as frustrated as I am, so we can just devour each other when those prize contributors leave tonight."

"Heck, Ray, since when do you have to make an extra effort for that?"

He laughed. "Right. That's never been a problem for us, has it, baby boy?" He gave me a kiss and went into the bathroom. A couple of minutes later he called, "Walter? Is your door locked?"

"No. Just a second." I got up and locked my door. "Okay."

"Come in here for a minute."

I went to the door, but paused right outside it. "Wait a minute. Why?"

"I need some help."

"With what?"

"I have a big problem that only you can handle."

"You're naked, aren't you?"

"Come in and find out."

The temptation was there, lemme tell ya. Instead I reached out and pulled the door the rest of the way shut. I heard him sigh, then he called, "All right for you, Walter, but you might not be able to get out of bed tomorrow."

"I'll look forward to it."

Since we didn't distract each other, Ray got showered and dressed quickly. He came into back into my room once he was dressed, and he took my breath away. "Ray! A tuxedo?"

He sighed. "I feel like a nit, but she insists that this be a formal thing."

"No, Ray. You look just... just..."

"Just?"

"I'm starting to get sorry that I didn't jump you when I had the chance."

He pulled me into a kiss. "You'll get your chance."

There was a knock on the door in Raymond's room. "Raymond? Raymond, hurry up." It was his mother. "Darling, come on. We're supposed to go to the Coldstream's for drinks before dinner. There will be a few people there I want you to meet."

"What the...? Since when?"

"Raymond, it's only sensible to assume that since we're having them back for supper that they'll have us for cocktails first. Really, I don't know why you're making such a fuss over a few few minutes with some perfectly pleasant people who have known your father for ages and support him..."

I could see Ray's face tensing up, and he suddenly snapped, "Not my father--your husband."

I reached up quickly and took his face in my hands, remembering how I had brought him out of his red rage all those months ago, back in the arcade. "Ray," I whispered. "Please, Ray. Don't let her do it to you."

He closed his eyes, putting his hand over mine, and sighed. Then he nodded, and opened his eyes. He whispered back, "I'm supposed to be soothing you, remember?"

"It's a two way street, always."

He kissed me again and went back through the bathroom, and opened his door. I heard him in the hall, his voice cold. "You will not make any more engagements for me without asking first--is that clear?"

She sounded offened. "Well, of course, Ray, if that's what you want. You know very well that I never do anything that I don't think is in your best interest. You know that my first and strongest instinct has always been maternal, and..." She faded out as they went downstairs. I was pretty sure that Ray's jaw was going to be sore from clenching it by the time he got home.

Jessie fixed me a nice supper, and seemed tickled when I asked her to eat with me. She told me some more about when Ray was a kid. Seems that he didn't stay home all that much. He was always off at school, or at camp, or off taking lessons. I guess it wasn't all that surprising that him and his mom weren't close.

I helped her clean up after dinner, so that she'd be ready to fix supper when the people came back. "This is something I can't understand, Jessie--supper. Of course, we don't stay up all that long after dark back on the farm, cause we have to be up pretty early."

Jessie snorted. "It's a lot of foolishness, if you ask me. If God intended for people to be stuffing their faces at near midnight he would have made the sun stay up longer. Luckily it's just supposed to be something light."

She showed me how to shell and clean shrimp, and I helped with that. Then she showed me how to get shrimp smell off my hands by rubbing lemon on them. Women sure do know a lot of interesting things. She started cooking the shrimp dish, and pretty soon the kitchen smelled even better than it usually did. The only thing that can compare to the smell of something good baking is maybe onions frying.

Around ten o'clock the phone rang, and Jessie answered it. "Iselin residence. Yes, ma'am? Oh, yes, everything is going well. Walter is being a big help, and... What?" She was quiet, and I could see her expression get stiff. "How many? No, ma'am, of course it won't be any trouble. No, none at all. Yes."

She hung up, her hand staying on the receiver for a moment. Then she lifted it and slammed it back down several times. "Drat, drat, drat!" She looked at me. "It's intermission, and she thought she'd take the time to let me know that there will be three more for supper--they met someone at the opera and invited them back."

She dropped into a chair, rubbing her face. "What on earth am I going to do? The dessert won't be a problem, but..."

"Now, hold on, Jessie. It seems to me that your pantry is pretty well stocked. I think we can work something out."

"Walter, do you have an idea?"

I got up and went to the pantry. "Not yet. I have to see what we have to work with. I've watched my Mom feed people who showed up unexpectedly. She always said 'Pour a little more water in the soup and add a few potatoes, and we really don't need that sausage for breakfast tomorrow, so we'll just use it tonight.'"

I studied the shelves. "You were going to do that shrimp thing over toast and some green peas, right?" She nodded. "Okay, first off, you make some rice. They'll eat the shrimp over that--it's more filling, and it looks nice." I started taking down cans. "You have two cans of crab meat that can go in with the shrimp to fill it out... Oo, and there's some sliced mushrooms, too! That'll be good. I noticed some carrots in the refrigerator. We'll shred them up, and you mix it with mayonaisse, and this box of raisins, and this can of pineapple, and you have a neat salad."

Jessie took the cans from me, shaking her head and smiling. "You know, Walter, this may be a new experience for those stuffed shirts, but I think they're going to like it."

"They're stupid if they don't. And I'll make some of my Mom's cheddar-garlic biscuits, and that should do it."

I helped Jessie some more till she shooed me out of the kitchen, telling me I'd better go get ready, 'cause there was only about a half hour till the supper party came back. I hadn't eaten all that long ago, but I was starting to get hungry anyway, just from being around the food.

I even shaved again, though I really didn't need to. (Darn it, here I am a grown man, and I still only have to shave every other day). I dressed real careful. Usually I was just worried about shaming my Mom, now I wanted to make a good impression for Ray's sake. I decided to wait downstairs. If Ray came up to my room to get me, I was afraid we'd never get back out again.

I stood just inside the livingroom door, looking out into the hall. I figured it wouldn't be all that polite to be sitting down when they came in, but I didn't want them to trip over me, either. Senator Iselin opened the door, then stood back, and Mrs. Iselin and another lady came in, laughing and talking. Mrs. Iselin's dress... Well, Uncle Ed used to have an expression: mutton dressed to look like lamb.

They walked halfway down the hall, and the lady stopped, seeing me. She smiled. "Oh, Eleanore, did you get yourself a new houseboy?" I sorta lost hope for the evening right there.

"No,Giselle." Mrs. Iselin led the lady to me. "This is Walter O'Reilly, one of Raymond's service chums. Walter, this is Mrs. Durwood Montpellier."

*Not Giselle to you, Radar.* I shook hands, giving a little boy. "How do you do, ma'am? Pleased to meet you."

"Well, isn't he just charming?" She sounded like she was talking about her host's lap dog.

I didn't have much time to get miffed, though, because other people were crowding in--stopping to shake hands and be introduced, then passing on into the living room. I was introduced to Mr. Durwood Montpellier and Mr. and Mrs. Coldstream--that was all the people who had been in the original party, except Ray and Senator Iselin.

Ray came down the hall, talking to a girl who was a little younger than him, and an older man, and some other man was bringing up the rear. When Ray looked at me, his eyes were a little anxious, like he wanted to tell me something. "Walter, you'll never guess who I ran into at the opera. This is Benton Gaines, my employer. He had to come down for business. And this is his daughter, Jocelyn."

So that explained Ray's unease. This was the girl he had once been engaged to. She was very pretty, with hair almost as sleek and dark as Ray's, and the smile and handshake she gave me was much more genuine than those of the other guests. "H'lo, Miss. Pleased to meet you. Sir."

"Ray says you were in a MASH unit overseas, Walter," said Mr. Gaines. "It sounds fascinating."

"It was pretty intense, sir."

He smiled. "A tactful way of putting things. You have to tell me all about it later on. I might want to have someone do a feature article on it."

The last guest was bringing up the rear. Ray said, "And this is the last minute addition to the party. With the unexpected additions, Mother felt it prudent to have security along. Walter, this is John's head of security."

As he spoke, the Gaines passed into the livingroom, leaving the last visitor, a tall, broad man, standing right before me. I'd never seen him in anything but olive drab, but there was no mistaking him. No mistaking those yellow eyes, and the way that he just seemed to leech warmth out of the air around him.

Ray kept talking, not noticing how still I'd gone. "Samuel, this is Walter O'Reilly. Walter, this is Samuel Flagg."

Flagg smiled. "We've met."