And the next morning, at breakfast, “And how is Mr. Geezenstack, Aubrey?”
“A little better, but he isn’t going to work today yet, the doctor said. Tomorrow, maybe.”
And the next day, Mr. Geezenstack went back to work. That, as it happened, was the day Sam Walters came home feeling quite ill, as a result of something he’d eaten for lunch. Yes, he’d missed two days from work. The first time he’d missed work on account of illness in several years.
And some things were quicker than that, and some slower. You couldn’t put your finger on it and say, “Well, if this happens to the Geezenstacks, it will happen to us in twenty-four hours.” Sometimes it was less than an hour. Sometimes as long as a week.
“Mama and Papa Geezenstack had a quarrel today.”
And Sam had tried to avoid that quarrel with Edith, but it seemed he just couldn’t. He’d been quite late getting home, through no fault of his own. It had happened often, but this time Edith took exception. Soft answers failed to turn away wrath, and at last he’d lost his own temper.
“Uncle Geezenstack is going away for a visit.” Richard hadn’t been out of town for years, but the next week he took a sudden notion to run down to New York. “Pete and Amy, you know. Got a letter from them asking me—”
“When?” Sam asked, almost sharply. “When did you get the letter?”
“Yesterday.”
“Then last week you weren’t— This sounds like a silly question, Dick, but last week were you thinking about going anywhere? Did you say anything to—to anyone about the possibility of your visiting someone?”