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Show 149 drink. "It was kind of hard to separate the two." She waited for him to say more. But he remained leaning against the counter, bouncing the icecube with his finger. So she removed the turkey from its plastic wrapper and washed it off in the sink. It was a nice bird; small, but plump, with a deep, full breast. She told Robbie how nice a bird it was; rather absently, he agreed-again his mind was somewhere else, closed off from her. Carefully, with close concentration, she packed the bird's inside cavity with the dressing she had put aside when stuffing the Bradshaws' turkey last night. It was very satisfying, packing the hollow cavity of the bird, preparing it like this for the oven. "There," she said, tying the wings-on her request, he held the string with his finger, "that saves us some time." "And what did Katie say about using her dressing?" "I made some extra," she said, "Just for this." He frowned-with that question, he was his old self. Or rather, that old, equivocal self that he had become since she had moved in with the Bradshaws. "Look," she flared out, "you don't owe Katie a thing. And neither do I." "Yes I do." His face flushed, becoming hawk-like-he wanted to talk about this, she suddenly realized: that was what he had been brooding about. "And so do you-how can you say that? She took you in, didn't she?" "Yes, she took me in. So she wouldn't have to hire a maid. I'm a 'live-in'-that's the term they use for maids in the neighborhood. Only Katie doesn't have to pay me a cent." |