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“
Thirty
-
two
dollars
,
”
Beth
said
,
“
and
seventy
-
seven
cents
.
”
“
They
told
me
at
Methuen
that
you
were
marvelous
at
math
.
”
Beth
nodded
.
“
Okay
,
”
she
said
.
*
*
*
They
had
something
with
veal
in
it
at
an
Italian
restaurant
.
Mrs
.
Wheatley
ordered
herself
a
carafe
of
red
wine
and
drank
it
and
smoked
Chesterfields
throughout
the
meal
.
Beth
liked
the
bread
and
the
cold
,
pale
butter
.
She
liked
the
little
tree
with
oranges
on
it
that
sat
on
the
bar
,
not
far
from
their
table
.
Mrs
.
Wheatley
wiped
her
chin
with
her
napkin
when
she
finished
the
wine
and
lit
a
final
cigarette
.
“
Beth
,
dear
,
”
she
said
,
“
there
’
s
a
tournament
in
Houston
over
the
holidays
,
starting
the
twenty
-
sixth
.
I
understand
it
’
s
very
easy
to
travel
on
Christmas
Day
,
since
most
people
are
eating
plum
pudding
or
whatever
.
”
“
I
saw
,
”
Beth
said
.
She
had
read
the
ad
in
Chess
Review
and
wanted
very
much
to
go
.
But
Houston
had
seemed
awfully
far
away
for
a
six
hundred
-
dollar
prize
.
“
I
believe
we
could
fly
to
Houston
,
”
Mrs
.
Wheatley
said
brightly
.
“
We
could
have
a
pleasant
winter
vacation
in
the
sun
.
”
Beth
was
finishing
her
spumoni
.
“
Okay
,
”
she
said
and
then
,
looking
down
at
the
ice
cream
,
“
Okay
,
Mother
.
”
