"What? Huh?" he mumbled, confused. "Oh," he exclaimed, dabbing his lips with his napkin, wiping away a small piece of sauerkraut.
Grace smiled and shook her head, her grin spreading wider when
Kate smiled back.
Peter had chosen the subject of children to start the table discussion. "I don't think that's a fair judgment, Byron," Peter said. "I think it's more than just what goes on in the home. It's everything, all of society. Kids are hardly given a good example by their parents, their friends. Movies. Television," he said. "It's like they've turned into MTV lemmings."
The foursome ate at an antique Shaker table, situated near the living room hearth. The home was decorated in simple and warm country style. A charming, homey combination. Like Byron and Grace Holmes themselves.
Kate and Peter had both felt instantly comfortable when they arrived a few minutes late wearing jeans and sweaters, which fit in nicely with Byron's work shirt and khakis, and Grace's simple cable-knit sweater and flannel slacks. Dock lamps dotted the inlet outside, and boats bobbed silently in the bay, glowing with a fuzzy luminescence in the moonlight. Peter and Kate's own vacation home was situated a few hundred yards down the inlet. Their dock was similar to the Holmes's, though they did not own a boat.
"We had primarily invented the Mate computer with no one in mind but ourselves, computer guys," Peter said. "But within a short time, parents were buying them like crazy for their kids.
"We want," he started, then paused for an instant to correct himself, "wanted computers to be especially great for kids, to lure them away from the TV set. When some of the software developers created really great learning games, it all took off from there." His eyes were shining with the clarity that comes when you talk about something you deeply care about.
They were silent for a moment then Byron looked up from his plate with a frown. "That's all well and good. And you're right about it, that children especially benefit from computers, and not by television. Now," he said, pointing to Peter's plate with his mustard-smeared knife, "how about you eat that bratwurst before it gets cold."
Grace broke the silence. "They have a computer at the foster home where I volunteer a few hours a week, one of yours I think," she said, smiling at Peter. "Those little kids, and the bigger ones too, they sit there for hours and play games on it, and do homework, and talk about all sorts of things I don't understand, in a language all their own. It's lovely how such a thing could bring these children together and give them a family of sorts."
The discussion carried on some more. Peter had not resumed eating, so Grace got up and began to clear the table.