Chapter 1, Episode 2

Rory faced the room triumphantly, having finally knotted his tie. Emily thought the knot could be a little neater but didn't say anything.

"Are you guys going to have martinis and caviar?" she said.

"That's what's known as underage drinking," said Rory. Emily and Rory both had the same dark shade of brown hair tinged with red. The red had been more prominent when they were toddlers. Rory's hair had always been shaggy, but lately he started cutting it short, like the G.I.s from Fort Knox, the big Army base south of Moonville. Emily's hair was shoulder-length, and very thick and hard to manage. She wished it was blonde.

"You guys should live it up a little. You're only young once," said Emily.

"Ah, how typical of the working class: young, with a drinking record. A great start in life," said Rory. He gathered up the messenger bag that he used for carrying his books and papers around. "Bye, Mom," he called out, then left the house.

"Oh, brother," said Emily to no one in particular.

She got up from the sofa and wondered what to prepare for dinner. She followed the whirring sound of her mother's sewing machine to the spare room at the back of the house and leaned against the doorframe, staring at her mother's back. Frances Kennedy had fair skin and freckles on her neck, and the same dark brown-red hair as Emily, only it was pulled up and pinned in a jumble on top of her head. The air conditioning seemed to have little effect in this room, it was hot from exposure to the afternoon sun and from the steam rising out of the iron that Frances used to press the fabric as she sewed.

"What's for dinner?" Emily directed the question at her mother's back.

"There's some chicken in there," said the back. "I'm trying to finish this blouse for Rose so I can get it in the mail tomorrow. I already missed her birthday, I'd better get it to her before Christmas."

"When are you going to make me a blouse?" asked Emily.

Frances swung around holding the sleeve of the blouse and looked over her glasses. She had friendly brown eyes and a few freckles on her face. "When you stop wearing those ragged jeans and that t-shirt that's too tight for you."

"I like it," said Emily.

"You girls like showing off what you got, that's what you like," said Frances.

"Cindy Madison got sent home from school because she was showing too much cleavage," said Emily. "The boys went wild, especially Dirk. It was like I suddenly didn't exist."

"That's the way some kids are raised, I guess," said Frances. Emily knew that her mother disapproved of the Madisons. Mr. and Mrs. Madison both had important careers and were out of the house from early in the morning until late at night on some days. A nanny got Cindy and her sister off to school and made them dinner in the evenings. The Madison kids got anything they wanted: handheld computer games, televisions in their bedrooms, new ski outfits every year, riding lessons in the summer.

Meanwhile, Frances and Leo Kennedy eked out a living sewing clothes and working in sales. Frances Harrigan Kennedy was the daughter of Irish immigrants who landed in Kentucky, mining coal. Apparently it was not what most Irish immigrant families did, but when the work ran out somewhere else you moved on, according to Emily's grandfather. Frances married Leo Kennedy, who's father worked at the coal-fired power plant a few miles up river from the mine. Emily could see the plant's three tall smokestacks from her yard. When Frances and Leo met and got married they went on a honeymoon to California in a VW bus and made up their minds that they were not going to follow their parents into mining and power plants. In fact, they almost didn't come back to Kentucky, but Frances's father got sick from lung disease and died. People said it was from the mine, but you didn't complain about it. Back then if you complained you got fired. Leo and Frances never did return to California. She went to work for a dress maker, and he sold automobiles. Over the years, Leo sold cars, tractors, swimming pools, ball bearings, hot tubs, appliances, carpentry tools, home air purifiers, organic vitamins, and, the latest, solar panel systems.

"What should I do with the chicken?" asked Emily.

"There should be some rice, and there's some fresh green beans from the farmer's market," said Frances, her attention now returned to the sewing machine.

"Chicken and rice and beans, coming up," said Emily.

She ambled toward the kitchen with her hands stuffed into the rear pockets of her jeans. The kitchen was old and well-used, like the rest of the house. It was a Moonville house, built before Moonville became a popular suburb of Louisville. It wasn't so long ago, when she was a little girl, that "going into town" was a big deal. Now people commuted to work there everyday. Some kids even commuted to private schools in Louisville instead of going to Moonville schools. There were two classes of Moonville kids now: the ones living in the sparkling new houses in the commuter suburbs, and the old mining and power plant families.

Emily unwrapped the chicken and rinsed the pieces and placed them into a baking dish. She sprinkled salt and pepper on them, along with a little olive oil and a pat of butter or two. She also put a little water in the dish, a trick her mother taught her for making gravy after the chicken was cooked.

While she worked she glanced out of the window, wondering what became of Toby. The sun was lower now. Her mother commented almost daily on how the days were getting shorter. Emily was starting to notice it, too. And there was a change in the color of light as well: the fall sun had a pale gold tint to it.

When the oven was preheated, Emily slid the heavy dish onto a middle rack and closed the door and set the timer for forty-five minutes. Then she measured water and rice into a pot and put the pot over a flame. These preparations had been drilled into her, but not into Rory. Emily thought Rory should learn kitchen work. After all, she wondered, what if he married a girl like Cindy Madison, who probably couldn't boil water if her life depended on it?

Emily brought her backpack to the kitchen table and did homework while the food cooked. She looked through the kitchen door several times, wondering what became of Toby.

Eventually, Emily's mother came into the kitchen. "Smells good," she said.

"I didn't put any herbs on it," said Emily. "Rory and I like it plain."

"Don't worry, I'll spice it up for myself and your father."

"I'm afraid Toby is on another of his excursions. He chased after a mouse and hasn't come back," said Emily.

"He'll come back," her mother said. She had the oven door open and was dropping dried herbs and powders onto half the dish of chicken. Emily could smell garlic from where she sat.

Soon her father's truck pulled into the driveway. Emily noticed the daylight disappearing rapidly. It was not like Toby to be gone for so long.