"He must have bit his tongue," Flynn mumbled.
"I did, I did," Angelo said, his voice muted by the towel which Flynn squeezed against his mouth.
"Christ, what a stupid wop," Flynn grumbled.
Celeste took the towel from Flynn and shoved him away from Angelo. "Let me do that," she said. "You'll rub his whole face off."
"I should have hit her," Angelo blurted. "I should have just hit her a good one."
"Christ, listen to him!" Flynn shouted.
"Shut up, Flynn," Celeste said.
And Minna, silent all this time, moused in a corner of the kitchen. She said, "He'll have to leave. Mrs. Elwood said he'll have to leave at once."
"Christ, what'll he do?" Flynn asked. "Where in hell can he go?"
"Don't worry about me," Angelo said. He blinked his eyes and smiled at Celeste. She knelt in front of him, made him open his mouth so that she could see his tongue; she had a clean handkerchief in the pocket of her dress and she gently touched his tongue with it, gently closed his mouth, took his hand and made him hold the wet towel to his lips. Angelo shut his eyes again, leaned forward, his head falling on Celeste's shoulder. Celeste settled back on her ankles, wrapped one great arm around Angelo, and slowly rocked him, forward and backward, until he made himself into a little ball on her breast -- his curious moan began again, only now it was more like someone making up a song.
"I'll lock the door," Flynn said, "so's no one can come in."
Minna watched, a dull ache in her throat, the prelude to great weeping and sorrow; and arising with the ache was a coldness in her hands and feet. This was hate -- oddly enough, she thought -- hate for Angelo's possessor, for Celeste, his captor, who now held him as if he were a wild, trapped rabbit. She calmed him, she would tame him; Angelo, dutifully, was her pet and her child, her charge -- possessed by this vast, sensuous body, which now and forever would be his magnificent, unachievable goal. And he wouldn't even be aware of what it was that held him to her.
"Angelo," Celeste said softly, "my brother-in-law has an inn in Maine. It's very nice there, on the ocean, and there
would be work for you -- a free place to stay. In the winter it's quiet, just clean snow to be shoveled and things to be fixed. In the summer the tourists come to swim and sail; there's boats and beaches, and you'd like my family."
"No," Minna said. "It's too far. How could he get there?"
"I'll take him myself," Celeste told her. "I'll drive him there tonight. I'd only miss one day, just tomorrow."
"He's never been out of Boston," Minna said. "He wouldn't like it."
"Of course he'd like it!" Flynn shouted. "It'll be perfect."
"Celeste?" Angelo asked. "Will you be there?"
"On weekends, in the summer," she said. "And all my vacations."
"What's it called?" Angelo asked her. He sat up, back against the counter cabinet, and he touched her hair with his hand. His wondering, adoring eyes passed over her thick, black hair, her strong-boned face and wide mouth.
"It's called Heron's Neck," Celeste told him. "Everybody's very friendly. You'd get to know them all, right away."
"I'll bet you'd like it just fine, Angelo," Flynn said.
"We'll go tonight," Celeste prompted. "We'll go as soon as we put your things in my car."
"You can't do it," Minna said. "You can't take him there."
"She'll only miss one day!" Flynn shouted. "Christ, Minna, what's one day?"
Minna passed her hand over her face, the powder wet and clotted at the corners of her eyes. She looked at Celeste.
"You can't have the day off," Minna told her. "It's a busy time of year."
"Christ!" Flynn hollered. "Speak to Mrs. Elwood about it!"
"I'm in charge of this kitchen!" Minna cried. "I saw to getting her hired, and I'll see to this." Flynn evaded Minna's eyes. It was very quiet in the kitchen.