Derek piped up. “Nah, the last owners never used anything. They just left it, more or less. They were really old, sweet ancient people. Deaf as posts, both of them—the ideal neighbours for me. Then he died and she had to go into a home.”
“Derek gave me the trampoline,” said Betsy excitedly. “Do you like it?”
“No,” said Meghan, bristling at the idea that the two of them were on a first name basis. “It’s old and decaying and I’m sure it wouldn’t pass safety standards.”
“But it’s fun!” Betsy protested.
“It’s dangerous. I don’t want it.”
“Did Daddy leave? You told me I could do anything I wanted once you finished your talk.”
“He left, and yes, that’s true, I did say that, but—”
“Then I get to keep the trampoline,” she trumpeted. She sang it over and over, like a victory song. “I get to keep the trampoline! I get to keep the trampoline!”
“We’ll see,” Meghan told her. “No promises. Go inside and get your face cleaned up, and let me talk to our neighbour for a minute.”
Betsy ran into the house. Derek took a final swig from his beer and dropped the empty into the dirt behind him.
“I see you two have made fast friends,” she said coolly.
“Lovely girl. Full of life,” he answered.
“Yes, she is. And the key to that is to let her win some battles sometimes. I wish I didn’t have to let her win this one. But I’m afraid I do.”
“Excellent plan,” said Derek. “Compromise is essential to civilized life. Without it we’re just animals.”
Meghan let that pass without comment. She was tempted to say, Yes, and speaking of animals, last night I saw you rutting like one. But the way he looked down at her over the fence put her on the defensive, as if he were the judge and she the one on trial, when it should have been the other way round. She stood as tall as she could and said, “You weren’t very civilized last night.”
“Was I rude?” he asked.
“Yes.”
“Then I’m sorry. I don’t remember it all that well.”
“You were yelling at me in my window.”
“I was responding to someone yelling down at me, as I recall.”
“But I wasn’t rude. You were.”
“And I’ve apologized. I was inebriated, so I wasn’t myself. Except that I usually am inebriated, so I guess I was myself. In any case we did kill the noise and put out the party lights, just for you, more or less. I hope you got back to sleep?”
He was smirking—as if he knew she’d watched him and that girl going at it on the picnic table. Meghan said, “Yes I did, thank you.”
Derek looked toward her house. “Betsy loves the trampoline.”
“She’s got a bike helmet, and knee and elbow pads from a brief interest in skateboarding,” said Meghan. “I’m going to make sure she wears them. Are you sure this thing is safe?”
“When it was new, it was top of the line, it’s not some cheapy Chinese knock-off. It’s not new now, obviously—I salvaged it from the trash but I gave it a good going-over.”
“I think I might buy her a new one,” she mused.
“You look like the environmentalist type,” he said. “Throwing out things that still work should be sin number one.”
“But peace of mind trumps all. If you were a parent, you’d understand.”
“Don’t make it sound like privileged information,” he said.
“I didn’t mean to sound that way.”
“It’s common knowledge people worry about their loved ones.”
Just then Betsy, her face freshly scrubbed, came bounding onto the deck and down to the lawn.
“Well?” she said expectantly.
“You can keep it,” Meghan said. “I might get you a new one instead though.”
“Yippee,” Betsy shouted. The hug she gave her mother was the most joyful, unselfconscious, and heartfelt embrace she’d given in a long, long time.
10
It was late afternoon when the castle gate opened, and Sylvanne emerged, holding herself erectly and proudly in her finest raiment. Kent, the leader of the besiegers, was napping in the shade of a small tree when a comrade shook him awake. What he saw was a vision walking toward him. Sylvanne’s light brown hair fell in waves across her shoulders—there had been no time to find or fashion a widow’s cap. Her dress, a type of velvet gown called a bliaut, in a shade of deep forest green that shimmered in the sunshine, she had worn only once before, at the previous year’s feast of Christmas. Its bodice was laced at the sides to fit