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Margie
Young
-
Hunt
was
an
attractive
woman
,
informed
,
clever
;
so
clever
that
she
knew
when
and
how
to
mask
her
cleverness
.
Her
marriages
had
failed
,
the
men
had
failed
;
one
by
being
weak
,
and
the
second
weaker
—
he
died
.
Dates
did
not
come
to
her
.
She
created
them
,
mended
her
fences
by
frequent
telephone
calls
,
by
letters
,
get
-
well
cards
,
and
arranged
accidental
meetings
.
She
carried
homemade
soup
to
the
sick
and
remembered
birthdays
.
By
these
means
she
kept
people
aware
of
her
existence
.
More
than
any
woman
in
town
she
kept
her
stomach
flat
,
her
skin
clean
and
glowing
,
her
teeth
bright
,
and
her
chinline
taut
.
A
goodly
part
of
her
income
went
to
hair
,
nails
,
massage
,
creams
,
and
unguents
.
Other
women
said
,
"
She
must
be
older
than
she
looks
.
"
When
supporting
muscles
of
her
breasts
no
longer
responded
to
creams
,
massage
,
and
exercise
,
she
placed
them
in
shapely
forms
that
rode
high
and
jauntily
.
Her
make
-
up
took
increasing
time
.
Her
hair
had
all
the
sheen
,
luster
,
wave
the
television
products
promise
.
On
a
date
,
dining
,
dancing
,
laughing
,
amusing
,
drawing
her
escort
with
a
net
of
small
magnets
,
who
could
know
her
cold
sense
of
repetition
?
After
a
decent
interval
and
an
outlay
of
money
,
she
usually
went
to
bed
with
him
if
she
discreetly
could
.
Then
back
to
her
fence
-
mending
.
Sooner
or
later
the
shared
bed
must
be
the
trap
to
catch
her
future
security
and
ease
.
But
the
prospective
game
leaped
clear
of
the
quilted
jaws
.
More
and
more
of
her
dates
were
the
married
,
the
infirm
,
or
the
cautious
.
And
Margie
knew
better
than
anyone
that
her
time
was
running
out
.
The
tarot
cards
did
not
respond
when
she
sought
help
for
herself
.
Margie
had
known
many
men
,
most
of
them
guilty
,
wounded
in
their
vanity
,
or
despairing
,
so
that
she
had
developed
a
contempt
for
her
quarry
as
a
professional
hunter
of
vermin
does
.
It
was
easy
to
move
such
men
through
their
fears
and
their
vanities
.
They
ached
so
to
be
fooled
that
she
no
longer
felt
triumph
—
only
a
kind
of
disgusted
pity
.
These
were
her
friends
and
associates
.
She
protected
them
even
from
the
discovery
that
they
were
her
friends
.
She
gave
them
the
best
of
herself
because
they
demanded
nothing
of
her
.
She
kept
them
secret
because
at
the
bottom
she
did
not
admire
herself
.
Danny
Taylor
was
one
of
these
,
and
Alfio
Marullo
another
,
and
Chief
Stonewall
Jackson
Smith
a
third
,
and
there
were
others
.
They
trusted
her
and
she
them
,
and
their
secret
existence
was
the
one
warm
honesty
to
which
she
could
retire
to
restore
herself
.
These
friends
talked
freely
and
without
fear
to
her
,
for
to
them
she
was
a
kind
of
Andersen
’
s
Well
—
receptive
,
unjudging
,
and
silent
.
As
most
people
have
secret
vices
,
Margie
Young
-
Hunt
concealed
a
secret
virtue
.
And
because
of
this
quiet
thing
it
is
probable
that
she
knew
more
about
New
Baytown
,
and
even
Wessex
County
,
than
anyone
,
and
her
knowledge
was
un
-
warped
because
she
would
not
—
could
not
—
use
it
for
her
own
profit
.
But
in
other
fields
,
everything
that
came
to
her
hand
was
usable
.
Her
project
Ethan
Allen
Hawley
began
casually
and
out
of
idleness
.
In
a
way
he
was
correct
in
thinking
it
was
mischievous
,
a
testing
of
her
power
.
Many
of
the
sad
men
who
came
to
her
for
comfort
and
reassurance
were
hogtied
with
impotence
,
bound
and
helpless
in
sexual
traumas
that
infected
all
other
areas
of
their
lives
.
And
she
found
it
easy
by
small
flatteries
and
reassurances
to
set
them
free
to
fight
again
against
their
whip
-
armed
wives
.
She
was
genuinely
fond
of
Mary
Hawley
,
and
through
her
she
gradually
became
aware
of
Ethan
,
bound
in
another
kind
of
trauma
,
a
social
-
economic
bind
that
had
robbed
him
of
strength
and
certainty
.
Having
no
work
,
no
love
,
no
children
,
she
wondered
whether
she
could
release
and
direct
this
crippled
man
toward
some
new
end
.
It
was
a
game
,
a
kind
of
puzzle
,
a
test
,
a
product
not
of
kindness
but
simply
of
curiosity
and
idleness
.
This
was
a
superior
man
.
To
direct
him
would
prove
her
superiority
,
and
this
she
needed
increasingly
.
Probably
she
was
the
only
one
who
knew
the
depth
of
the
change
in
Ethan
and
it
frightened
her
because
she
thought
it
was
her
doing
.
The
mouse
was
growing
a
lion
’
s
mane
.
She
saw
the
muscles
under
his
clothes
,
felt
ruthlessness
growing
behind
his
eyes
.
So
must
the
gentle
Einstein
have
felt
when
his
dreamed
concept
of
the
nature
of
matter
flashed
over
Hiroshima
.
Margie
liked
Mary
Hawley
very
much
and
she
had
little
sympathy
and
no
pity
for
her
.
Misfortune
is
a
fact
of
nature
acceptable
to
women
,
especially
when
it
falls
on
other
women
.
In
her
tiny
immaculate
house
set
in
a
large
,
overgrown
garden
very
near
to
Old
Harbor
,
she
leaned
toward
the
make
-
up
mirror
to
inspect
her
tools
,
and
her
eyes
saw
through
cream
,
powder
,
eye
-
shadowing
,
and
lashes
sheathed
in
black
,
saw
the
hidden
wrinkles
,
the
inelasticity
of
skin
.
She
felt
the
years
creep
up
like
the
rising
tide
about
a
rock
in
a
calm
sea
.
There
is
an
arsenal
of
maturity
,
of
middle
age
,
but
these
require
training
and
technique
she
did
not
yet
have
.
She
must
learn
them
before
her
structure
of
youth
and
excitement
crumbled
and
left
her
naked
,
rotten
,
ridiculous
.
Her
success
had
been
that
she
never
let
down
,
even
alone
.
Now
,
as
an
experiment
,
she
allowed
her
mouth
to
droop
as
it
wanted
to
,
her
eyelids
to
fall
half
-
staff
.
She
lowered
her
high
-
held
chin
and
a
plaited
rope
came
into
being
.
Before
her
in
the
mirror
she
saw
twenty
years
clamber
over
her
and
she
shuddered
as
the
icy
whispering
told
her
what
lay
waiting
.
She
had
delayed
too
long
.
A
woman
must
have
a
showcase
in
which
to
grow
old
,
lights
,
props
,
black
velvet
,
children
,
graying
and
fattening
,
snickering
and
pilfering
,
love
,
protection
,
and
small
change
,
a
serene
and
undemanding
husband
or
his
even
more
serene
and
less
demanding
will
and
trust
fund
.
A
woman
growing
old
alone
is
useless
cast
-
off
trash
,
a
wrinkled
obscenity
with
no
hobbled
retainers
to
cluck
and
mutter
over
her
aches
and
to
rub
her
pains
.
