Chocolate Kisses by Judith Arnold

jacket. Her hair was the color and
consistency of straw, lying in an uneven shag about her drawn, pallid face.
    “Is
it still raining?” Lila asked Mitzie as she slid her tray along the counter.
    “Yeah,
a little,” Mitzie answered. Thanks to the precipitation, perhaps, her face was
less grimy than usual.
    “Have
you got a dry place to stay tonight?”
    “Don’t
worry about me,” Mitzie said.
    “Fat
chance of that,” Lila argued gently. “I will worry about you.”
    “Thanks,”
Mitzie said, smiling bashfully. “Thanks for the food, Mrs. Chapin.” She waved
again and carried her tray to one of the long tables set up throughout the
room.
    Lila
sighed and tucked a stray strand of pale brown hair behind her ear. Her head
hadn’t stopped throbbing, but hearing Mitzie say “thanks” had done more for the
pain than the aspirin she’d taken that morning. She smoothed out her apron and
shaped a smile for the unshaven man across the counter from her.
    “How
are you doing?” Claudette asked her once the flow of clients had ebbed to a
trickle. “You look beat.”
    “Just
tired,” Lila replied. “I’m feeling tired and old.”
    “Old!”
Claudette let out a hoot. She stacked the empty macaroni pans and carried them
into the kitchen, calling over her shoulder, “I’d like to be as old as you
are.” Claudette was in her fifties, but she was so youthful and energetic Lila
often forgot that the woman was a grandmother.
    By
two-thirty, all the pots and pans were scoured, the remaining apples had been
distributed among the clients and the basement was clean. “See you Wednesday,”
Claudette said as she and Lila parted ways in the parking lot behind the
church.
    “I’ll
try to get here earlier,” Lila promised.
    Claudette
swatted the air with her hand. “Whenever you get here, I appreciate it.”
    Lila
smiled and climbed into her car.
    Michael
and Danny were already home from school by the time Lila pulled into the
garage. Danny had found the new box of pencils on the kitchen table and was
sharpening them. Michael was storming around the basement, complaining about
the lack of good materials for a science project. “Mark Nugent, his dad’s got
dry cells and switches and everything,” Michael moaned. “He’s gonna get a
better grade than me.”
    “I’m
sure you can put together a decent science project with what we’ve got,” Lila
attempted to bolster him. “Maybe you can make a weather chart out of oaktag and
paint.”
    “I
don’t want to make a chart. You don’t get an A-plus for something like a
weather chart. I want to make something neat, like, something with electricity.”
    “Why
don’t you do dinosaurs?” Danny hollered down the stairs.
    “That’s
kid stuff.”
    “I’m
doing dinosaurs in my class,” Danny noted.
    “Yeah,
on account of you’re in third grade. In fifth grade we do better
stuff—electricity and stuff. How come we never have any neat things to do
science projects with, Mom?”
    Lila
suppressed the urge to snap at Michael. “I’m sure we’ve got something down here
you can use for a science project,” she said, surveying the shelves lining the
walls. They were crammed with toys, art supplies, tools and seasonal items.
“Maybe you could do something with ice,” she suggested, inspired by the cooler
chest.
    “Yeah,
what?”
    “I
don’t know. It’s your project.”
    “Ice
melts. Big deal.” Michael shoved his hands into the pockets of his dungarees
and sulked.
    “How
about mold? You could grow bread mold.”
    His
face brightened. “Hey, yeah, that’s an idea. It’s not as neat as dry cells and
switches, but yeah, maybe I could do that.” Michael bounded up the stairs,
leaving Lila to turn off the lights.
    She
helped Michael to set up an experiment with slices of bread, then prepared
dinner. Ken got home late, and his piqued expression conveyed that he hadn’t
heard anything about the promotion. Lila gave him a reassuring hug, which he
returned.