The Middle Stories Read Free

thinking of me?”
    “Of course I was.” She began to blush and played with the neck of her nightie a bit. “I was thinking it would be you. I’m psychic you know.”
    “You’re not psychic. What are you wearing?”
    She told him its color and texture. Then she said, “And how was your day?”
    “Can I come over?” His voice was a bit of a whine.
    “No!” she said, quite astonished. “It’s nearly one in the morning!”
    “But you’re up, aren’t you?”
    “No,” she said. “It wouldn’t be appropriate.” They said a few more words to each other and then she fell asleep, a little bit perturbed.
     
     
    IN THE MORNING, as the sun was tiptoeing in through the blinds and she was shifting in her sheets, a knock came from the door. “Oh, darn,” she said, and pulled on her new bathrobe and pulled on her slippers and went down the hall to answer it. “Who is it?” she asked as she was unfastening the chain, but when she saw who it was she cried, “Oh no!” and pushed her weight against the door. “This is not right,” she said through the wood, and was just about to fasten the lock when the visitor popped herself in and slammed the door shut.
    “I haven’t been following you,” said the woman from the market, who seemed to have dyed her hair overnight, for now it was orange, not gray. “We have a friend in common: Sam.”
    “Sam!”
    “Sam’s my brother,” the woman said lightly. “Can I sit down?”
    “Why—” the Miss was nervous. “Sam’s not your brother!”
     
     
    THREE WEEKS LATER the whole thing was arranged. The Miss was going to marry Sam, and Sylvia, the woman from the market, was going to be the flower girl.
    Sitting around a card table under a dim light, Sylvia went on throwing out her thoughts. “I’ve always wanted to be a flower girl! All my life! Remember when we thought Uncle Mervin was going to get married and I was going to be a flower girl then, but he just never did, and the whole wish just floated away?”
    “You’re real funny,” said Sam, smiling. He hadn’t stopped smiling since he had met the Miss, and now the two were leaning into each other, and grinning so broadly, and giving each other sweet little looks out of the corners of their eyes.
    Sylvia leaned back in her chair across from them, and she was all smiles too. “I’m so happy for you both. I’m so happy. I just know it’s going to work out.”
    “I’m going to help Sylvia with the business,” said the Miss eagerly, as though Sam had never heard it.
    “I know.”
    “She’s really going to do it, Sam!”
    “I know!”
    The Miss had always loved antiques, and now she was going to help with the business! It really was something else.
     
     
    THAT SATURDAY, SYLVIA and the Miss were down at the market, under a cloudy sky, resting their heels behind a table, when a woman came up to them. She was similar in color and build to the Miss, and she kept her eyes on the wares, touching ornaments from Christmases half a century ago. “How much is this? And how much is this? And how much is this?” It was a horrible day and suddenly it began to rain. Everyone started packing up their things to move them quickly inside. “But how much is this! And how much is this!” Her terrible eyes were brown and fierce and she pushed her face toward them as they hurried to box it all up.
    “You can follow us inside,” said Sylvia harshly. “We have to get these items in before they’re soaked by the rain.”
    The woman didn’t want to leave. “I want to buy these ornaments!” she cried.
    The Miss was getting scared.
    Sylvia repeated, “You must wait till we’re inside! Please stay out of our way.”
    “This is inexcusable! I’m a valid shopper!”
    “Oh, please don’t fight!” cried the Miss, her eyes all alight, her whole chest fluttering. “Don’t fight. Don’t fight. You can have them for twenty dollars, the set.” She glanced at Sylvia for approval, but Sylvia only rolled her eyes. She was