"I'm Ida Johnson," she said. "I'm a waitress at the cafe."

"Oh, yeah," said the girl.

"Dad said Mrs. Wilcox had a new girl," said Dougie. "But you'renot a girl, you're old."

"Dougie," said Mr. Spaulding.

"I mean you're older than, like, a teenager, right? I don't meanlike you're about to get Alzheimer's or anything, for Pete's sake, butyou're not young, either."

"She's my age," said Mr. Spaulding, "so I'd appreciate it if you'dget off this subject."

"How old are you, then, Daddy?" asked the girl.

"Bet he doesn't remember," said Dougie. He explained to Rainie. "Dad forgets his age all the time."

"Do not," said Mr. Spaulding.

"Do so," said Dougie. It was obviously a game they had playedbefore.

"Do not, and I'll prove it. I was born in 1948, which was threeyears after World War II ended, and five years before Eisenhowerbecame president, and he died at Gettysburg, Pennsylvania, which wasthe site of a battle that was fought in 1863, which was 127 years agolast July, and here it is November which is four months after July, andNovember is the eleventh month and so I'm four times eleven, forty-four."

"No!" the kids both shouted, laughing. "You turned forty-two inMay."

"Why, that's good news," he said. "I feel two years younger, andI'll bet Ms. Johnson does too."

She couldn't help but smile.

"Here we are," he said.

It took her a moment to realize that without any directions, hehad taken her right to the garage with the outside stair that led to herapartment. "How did you know where to take me?"

"It's a small town," said Mr. Spaulding. "Everybody knowseverything about everybody, except for the things which nobodyknows."

"Like Father's middle name," said the girl.

"Get on upstairs and turn your heat on, Ms. Johnson," said Mr.Spaulding. "This is going to be a bad one tonight."