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Beth
never
participated
in
these
conversations
;
she
already
was
what
she
wanted
to
be
.
But
she
talked
to
no
one
about
her
traveling
or
about
the
reputation
she
was
building
in
tournament
chess
.
When
they
came
back
from
Miami
in
March
,
there
was
an
envelope
from
the
Chess
Federation
in
the
mail
.
In
it
was
a
new
membership
card
with
her
rating
:
1881
.
She
had
been
told
it
would
take
time
for
the
rating
to
reflect
her
real
strength
;
she
was
satisfied
for
now
to
be
,
finally
,
a
rated
player
.
She
would
push
the
figure
up
soon
enough
.
The
next
big
step
was
Master
,
at
2200
.
After
2000
they
called
you
an
Expert
,
but
that
didn
’
t
mean
much
.
The
one
she
liked
was
International
Grandmaster
;
that
had
weight
to
it
.
*
*
*
That
summer
they
went
to
New
York
to
play
at
the
Henry
Hudson
Hotel
.
They
had
developed
a
taste
for
fine
food
,
though
at
home
it
was
mostly
TV
dinners
,
and
in
New
York
they
ate
at
French
restaurants
,
taking
buses
crosstown
to
Le
Bistro
and
Cafe
Argenteuil
.
Mrs
.
Wheatley
had
gone
to
a
gas
station
in
Lexington
and
bought
a
Mobil
Travel
Guide
;
she
picked
places
with
three
or
more
stars
,
and
then
they
found
them
with
the
little
map
.
It
was
terribly
expensive
,
but
neither
of
them
said
a
word
about
the
cost
.
Beth
would
eat
smoked
trout
but
never
fresh
fish
;
she
remembered
the
fish
she
’
d
had
to
eat
on
Fridays
at
Methuen
.
She
decided
that
next
year
at
school
she
would
take
French
.
The
only
problem
was
that
,
on
the
road
,
she
took
the
pills
from
Mrs
.
Wheatley
’
s
prescription
to
help
her
sleep
at
night
,
and
sometimes
it
required
an
hour
or
so
to
get
her
head
clear
in
the
morning
.
But
tournament
games
never
started
before
nine
,
and
she
made
a
point
of
getting
up
in
time
to
have
several
cups
of
coffee
from
room
service
.
Mrs
.
Wheatley
did
not
know
about
the
pills
and
showed
no
concern
over
Beth
’
s
appetite
for
coffee
;
she
treated
her
in
every
way
like
an
adult
.
Sometimes
it
seemed
as
though
Beth
were
the
older
of
the
two
.
Beth
loved
New
York
.
She
liked
riding
on
the
bus
,
and
she
liked
taking
the
IRT
subway
with
its
grit
and
rattle
.
She
liked
window
shopping
when
she
had
a
chance
,
and
she
enjoyed
hearing
people
on
the
street
talking
Yiddish
or
Spanish
.
She
did
not
mind
the
sense
of
danger
in
the
city
or
the
arrogant
way
the
taxis
drove
or
the
dirty
glitter
of
Times
Square
.
They
went
to
Radio
City
Music
Hall
on
their
last
night
and
saw
West
Side
Story
and
the
Rockettes
.
Sitting
high
in
the
cavernous
theater
in
a
velvet
seat
,
Beth
was
thrilled
.
*
*
*
She
had
expected
a
reporter
from
Life
to
be
someone
who
chain
-
smoked
and
looked
like
Lloyd
Nolan
,
but
the
person
who
came
to
the
door
of
the
house
was
a
small
woman
with
steel
-
gray
hair
and
a
dark
dress
.
The
man
with
her
was
carrying
a
camera
.
She
introduced
herself
as
Jean
Balke
.
She
looked
older
than
Mrs
.
Wheatley
,
and
she
walked
around
the
living
room
with
quick
little
movements
,
hastily
checking
out
the
books
in
the
bookcase
and
studying
some
of
the
prints
on
the
walls
.
Then
she
began
asking
questions
.
Her
manner
was
pleasant
and
direct
.
“
I
’
ve
really
been
impressed
,
”
she
said
,
“
even
though
I
don
’
t
play
chess
myself
.
”
She
smiled
.
“
They
say
you
’
re
the
real
thing
.
”
Beth
was
a
little
embarrassed
.
