The Time of Her Life Read Online Free Page B

notice. The Parks never worried much about meals; as far as eating went, it was mostly catch as catch can.
    Avery carried his wine with him after lunch, and followed Claudia into the living room, where she pulled her chess books from
     the shelves. She took down Byrne and Reshevsky, but she had stacked them beside her chair and was leafing through
Bobby Fischer’s Best Games
. She bent over the book and began making a diagram in the margin with her pencil, and Avery stretched out full length on
     the sofa, in his robe and slippers. He was very pleased to have his wife there, his dog there. Five hours into the day he
     could still think of his drinking as a tender undertaking, only enhancing the precision of his thoughts. And he dazzled Claudia
     in the afternoon with his pleasant verbosity. He was so nice to look at, long and lean, with his features charmingly uneven.
     Every day about this time Claudia let any sense of foreboding drift loose from the moment because for a little while Avery
     was so pleased with the idea of his work, pleased with his house, glad to have her as his wife.
    “Look at this dog’s head, Claudia! Look at Nellie’s head!” Nellie had curled up on the floor next to Avery on the couch. “Now,
     I knew the first time I saw her that she was a good dog. An exceptional dog.” He put his wineglass down so that he could ruffle
     Nellie’s collie coat all up and down her back, and the dog leaned into hisarm, fawning and arching her neck. “She has a wide forehead. You see that! Look at that head! They’ve bred the brains right
     out of most collies. Christ! Have you seen those dogs? Heads like needles.” He paused to think this over and was satisfied
     for a moment. “This Nellie is no needlehead!” It was a wonderful thought. “No needle is Nellie!”
    Only when Avery became suddenly imperative like this did Claudia become the first little bit uneasy, and she was also cross
     at Jane, who had finally come downstairs to get lunch after the kitchen had already been cleaned up. She came into the living
     room, and she was restless and agitated, moving around the room from chair to chair, interrupting her father.
    “Are you going to drive me to Diana’s, Dad? Will you fix me a cheese sandwich first? The chili’s almost gone. It really is
     awfully spicy, too. Would you make me a sandwich? The kind you do in a skillet?”
    Avery’s attention wandered over to her. He studied her serious face, and he planned carefully in his mind the cheese sandwich
     he would fix for his daughter: rye bread with two slices of cheese and a piece of ham between. He was quiet while he considered
     this sandwich. He would sauté it slowly on both sides until it was golden brown. A prize.
    “Jane, for God’s sake,” Claudia said. “I can fix you a cheese sandwich. And there’s plenty of chili left, anyway.” She had
     closed her book and had been enjoying Avery—his good humor. She liked watching him this afternoon.
    Claudia didn’t think ahead; her day unfolded however it might and almost always in unexpected ways. And in fact, she was unaware
     now that she had disturbed theimage Avery was constructing, because she had snatched away from him the delectable offering he was mentally preparing for
     his own daughter, and a rather hazy irritation began brewing in his head.
    He looked at his wife, who had moved over to the window and wasn’t even remembering that she had spoken. She was never turned
     out exactly right, but her lack of style was a style unto itself. Her failure to have ever made a concentrated decision about
     the way she would dress produced an effect that appeared to be studiously haphazard. Today she was wearing boots that Avery
     thought must be intended for the outside since they turned down around the calf in a sheepskin cuff. She also wore a long
     purple skirt and a wheat-colored sweater belted at the waist. The whole outfit was somehow a little off, and besides, it was
     a style for