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It
left
her
two
thousand
in
the
bank
.
She
didn
’
t
like
having
so
little
,
but
it
was
all
right
.
In
the
mail
there
had
been
invitations
to
play
in
two
strong
tournaments
,
with
good
prize
money
.
Fifteen
hundred
for
one
and
two
thousand
for
the
other
.
And
there
was
the
heavy
envelope
from
Russia
,
inviting
her
to
Moscow
in
July
.
When
she
got
back
with
her
copy
of
the
signed
papers
she
walked
around
the
living
room
several
times
,
passing
her
hand
lightly
over
pieces
of
furniture
.
Wheatley
hadn
’
t
said
anything
about
the
furniture
,
but
it
was
hers
.
She
had
asked
the
lawyer
.
Wheatley
hadn
’
t
even
shown
up
,
and
Chennault
took
the
papers
over
to
the
Phoenix
Hotel
for
him
to
sign
while
she
waited
in
the
office
and
read
a
National
Geographic
.
The
house
felt
different
,
now
that
it
was
hers
.
She
would
get
some
new
pieces
—
a
good
,
low
sofa
and
two
small
modern
armchairs
.
She
could
visualize
them
,
with
pale
-
blue
linen
upholstery
and
darker
blue
piping
.
Not
Mrs
.
Wheatley
blue
,
but
her
own
.
Beth
blue
.
She
wanted
things
brighter
in
the
living
room
,
more
cheerful
.
She
wanted
to
erase
Mrs
.
Wheatley
’
s
half
-
real
presence
from
the
place
.
She
would
get
a
bright
rug
for
the
floor
and
have
the
windows
washed
.
She
would
get
a
stereo
and
some
records
,
a
new
bedspread
and
pillowcases
for
the
bed
upstairs
.
From
Purcell
’
s
.
Mrs
.
Wheatley
had
been
a
good
mother
;
she
had
not
intended
to
die
and
leave
her
.
*
*
*
Beth
slept
well
and
awoke
feeling
angry
.
She
put
on
the
chenille
robe
and
padded
downstairs
in
slippers
—
Mrs
.
Wheatley
’
s
slippers
—
and
found
herself
thinking
furiously
of
the
seven
thousand
dollars
she
had
paid
Allston
Wheatley
.
She
loved
her
money
;
she
and
Mrs
.
Wheatley
had
both
taken
great
pleasure
in
accumulating
it
from
tournament
to
tournament
,
watching
it
gather
interest
.
They
had
always
opened
Beth
’
s
bank
statements
together
to
see
how
much
new
interest
had
been
credited
to
the
account
.
And
after
Mrs
.
Wheatley
’
s
death
it
had
consoled
her
to
know
that
she
could
go
on
living
in
the
house
,
buying
her
groceries
at
the
supermarket
and
going
to
movies
when
she
wanted
to
without
feeling
pinched
for
money
or
having
to
think
about
getting
work
or
going
to
college
or
finding
tournaments
to
win
.
She
had
brought
three
of
Benny
’
s
chess
pamphlets
with
her
from
New
York
;
while
her
eggs
were
boiling
she
set
up
her
board
on
the
kitchen
table
and
got
out
the
booklet
with
games
from
the
last
Moscow
Invitational
.
The
Russian
booklets
were
printed
on
expensive
paper
with
good
,
clear
type
.
She
had
not
really
mastered
Russian
from
the
night
course
at
the
university
,
but
she
could
read
the
names
and
the
notations
easily
enough
.
Yet
the
Cyrillic
characters
were
irritating
.
It
angered
her
that
the
Soviet
government
put
so
much
money
into
chess
,
and
that
they
even
used
a
different
alphabet
from
hers
.
When
the
eggs
were
done
,
she
peeled
them
into
a
bowl
with
butter
and
began
playing
a
game
between
Petrosian
and
Tal
.
Grünfeld
Defense
.
Semi
-
Slav
Variation
.
She
got
it
to
the
black
king
knight
on
queen
two
for
the
eighth
move
and
then
became
bored
with
it
.
She
had
been
moving
the
pieces
too
fast
for
analysis
,
not
stopping
herself
as
Benny
would
have
made
her
do
to
trace
out
everything
that
was
going
on
.
She
finished
the
last
spoonful
of
egg
and
went
out
the
back
door
into
the
garden
.
It
was
a
hot
morning
.
The
grass
in
the
yard
was
overgrown
,
it
nearly
covered
the
little
brick
pathway
that
went
to
where
some
shabby
tea
roses
stood
.
She
went
back
into
the
house
and
played
the
white
rook
to
queen
one
and
then
stared
at
it
.
She
did
not
want
to
study
chess
.
That
was
frightening
;
a
vast
amount
of
study
lay
ahead
of
her
if
she
wanted
to
avoid
humiliation
in
Moscow
.
She
pushed
down
the
fear
and
went
upstairs
for
a
shower
.
As
she
dried
her
hair
,
she
saw
with
a
kind
of
relief
that
she
needed
to
have
it
cut
.
That
would
be
something
to
do
today
.
Afterward
she
could
go
to
Purcell
’
s
and
look
at
sofas
for
the
living
room
.
But
it
wouldn
’
t
be
wise
to
buy
—
not
until
she
had
more
money
.
And
how
could
she
get
the
lawn
mowed
?
A
boy
had
done
it
for
Mrs
.
Wheatley
,
but
she
didn
’
t
know
his
telephone
number
or
address
.
She
needed
to
clean
up
the
place
.
There
were
cobwebs
and
messy
-
looking
sheets
and
pillowcases
.
She
could
use
some
new
ones
.
Some
new
clothes
,
too
.
Harry
Beltik
had
left
his
razor
in
the
bathroom
;
should
she
mail
it
back
?
The
milk
had
gone
sour
and
the
butter
was
old
.
The
freezer
was
full
of
ice
crystals
with
a
stack
of
old
frozen
chicken
dinners
stuck
in
the
back
.
The
bedroom
rug
was
dusty
,
and
the
windows
had
fingerprints
on
the
glass
and
grit
on
the
sills
.
