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"Tell me this is a bad dream, and you're not planning on bringing that major embarrassment with us."
"I've invited Molly along to watch her. We can take my car. I hope you don't mind."
He smiled at Molly. "Not at all."
Relieved, she stepped outside.
Molly's mulish expression made it obvious she wasn't happy, but Dan acted as if he didn't notice. "It's a good thing you could come with us, Miz Molly. You'll be able to keep that Chinese hors d'oeuvre away from me."
Molly forgot to look sullen. "Don't you like Pooh?"
"Can't stand her." He began leading both of them to the Cadillac Phoebe'd left at the curb.
Molly was so shocked that she quickened her steps to pull abreast of him. "Why? Don't you like dogs?"
" 'Course I do. Shepherds, labs, collies. Real dogs."
"Pooh is a real dog."
"She's a sissy dog, is what she is. A man spends too much time with a dog like that, next thing you know he's eating quiche and singing soprano."
Molly regarded him uncertainly. "That's a joke, isn't it?"
Dan's eyes twinkled. "Of course it's not a joke. You think I'd joke about something so serious." He turned to Phoebe and held out his hand. "Pass over the keys, honey lamb. There are certain things a man still does better than a woman, and driving a car is one of them."
Phoebe rolled her eyes as she gave him the keys
to the Cadillac. "Today's going to be a living history lesson for you, Mol, on life in the fifties. You'll get to spend time with a man who's managed to miss an entire social movement."
Dan grinned as he unlocked the driver's door and reached inside to flip the automatic locks. "Climb in, ladies. I'd open the doors for you, but I don't want to be accused of holding back anybody's liberation."
Phoebe smiled as she passed Pooh to Molly, then slid beneath the wheel to the passenger side of the front seat. As they pulled away from the curb, she turned toward the back. "If he takes us out to eat, Molly, order the most expensive thing on the menu. In the fifties, the men always paid."
"Dang," Dan grumbled. "Now you're playin' hardball."
Naperville was an old Illinois farm town that had grown into the largest city in DuPage County, with a population over ninety thousand. Intelligent city planning had made it into a showplace. There was plenty of parkland and a well-maintained historic district of shady streets, lovely gardens, and old homes. The town's small crown jewel was its Riverwalk, a park built along the section of the DuPage River that wound through the downtown area. It featured brick pathways, a covered bridge, a small amphitheater for outdoor concerts, and a fishing pond. At one end an old gravel quarry had been converted into a large public beach.
Dan left the car in a small lot on the edge of the festivities, and the three of them followed the brick sidewalk toward the crowd that had gathered beneath the trees. Every September the Riverwalk served as a picturesque setting for area artisans, a place where painters, sculptors, jewelers, and glassblowers could exhibit their work. Brightly colored pennants snapped in the warm breeze, and the beautifully mounted exhibits of paintings, ceramics, and glassware made splashes of color along the riverbank.
It was an affluent crowd. Young couples pushed expensive strollers or carried well-fed babies in sturdy backpacks, while older adults in the brightly colored clothes they'd worn to the golf course that morning strolled between the exhibits. The teenagers' faces had been treated by expensive dermatologists, and thousands of dollars worth of orthodontics straightened their teeth. A sprinkling of African-Americans, Hispanics, and Asians, all well-dressed and prosperous looking, mingled with the crowd.
Phoebe felt as if she'd stumbled into the center of the American dream, a place where poverty and ethnic strife had been held at bay. She knew the city had its troubles, but for someone who had spent the last seven years in Manhattan, those troubles seemed small. There were full stomachs here and a sense of connection with others rare in a society that had become increasingly disconnected. Was it wrong, she wondered, to wish every community in America clean streets, unarmed citizens, families with 2.4 children, and a flotilla of Chevy Broncos filling its parking lots?.
She decided that Dan must have read her mind when his steps slowed beside her. "I guess this is just about as good as it gets."
"I guess so."
"Sure is different from the place where I grew up."
"Yes, I imagine it is."
Molly had gone ahead of them with Pooh, who was tossing her ears and prancing on her leash to show off for the crowd. Dan slipped on a pair of Ray-Bans and pulled the Bulls' hat lower on his head. "This is about the best I can do for a disguise. Not that it's going to work. Especially with you in that hat."
"What's wrong with my hat?" Phoebe put her hand to the silk rose holding up the floppy brim.
"Not a thing. Matter of fact, I like it. It's just that we were going to have a pretty hard time looking anonymous anyway, and that hat makes it even harder."
She saw his point. "Maybe this outing wasn't such a good idea."
