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"
How
bad
would
you
say
her
arthritis
is
?
"
"
Quite
bad
.
"
"
In
a
wheelchair
?
"
"
No
...
but
she
walks
very
slowly
,
and
her
fingers
...
"
Rachel
held
her
own
slim
fingers
up
and
hooked
them
into
claws
to
demonstrate
.
Louis
nodded
.
"
Anyway
,
do
n't
be
late
,
Lou
.
I
get
the
creeps
in
strange
houses
"
"
It
wo
n't
be
strange
for
long
,
"
Louis
said
and
kissed
her
.
Louis
came
back
later
feeling
small
.
No
one
asked
him
to
examine
Norma
Crandall
;
when
he
crossed
the
street
(
rud
,
he
reminded
himself
,
smiling
)
,
the
lady
had
already
retired
for
the
night
.
Jud
was
a
vague
silhouette
behind
the
screens
of
the
enclosed
porch
.
There
was
the
comfortable
squeak
of
a
rocker
on
old
linoleum
.
Louis
knocked
on
the
screen
door
,
which
rattled
companionably
against
its
frame
.
Crandall
's
cigarette
glowed
like
a
large
,
peaceable
firefly
in
the
summer
darkness
.
From
a
radio
,
low
,
came
the
voice
of
a
Red
Sox
game
,
and
all
of
it
gave
Louis
Creed
the
oddest
feeling
of
coming
home
.
"
Doc
,
"
Crandall
said
.
"
I
thought
that
was
you
.
"
"
Hope
you
meant
it
about
the
beer
,
"
Louis
said
,
coming
in
.
"
Oh
,
about
beer
I
never
lie
,
"
Crandall
said
.
"
A
man
who
lies
about
beer
makes
enemies
.
Sit
down
,
Doc
.
I
put
an
extra
couple
on
ice
,
just
in
case
.
"
