"No, she's busy," he said. She was surprised that he was impudent enough to address her this way in person.
"Get her now!" she commanded. "Get her and then, maybe…maybe I'll come down to get you your airline ticket to Kansas."
"You'll buy one?"
"It is already bought. If you are eager to get rid of me I am eager to get rid of you."
"Okay," he said happily.
"Sure," she said acrimoniously, "if that is what you want. And if that is what you want why should I put these lights up for you?"
"Yes, why do it when I don't care," he said.
"Well good we agree on something. I'll look forward to hearing the results of the experiment: paradise or penitentiary in Kansas. Feel free to email me through the process. Go on and get Betty." As he left she knew that fear had motivated her to mention the plane ticket. The thought of cajoling a response from a child by appeasing him, and doing it from a legitimate fear or, worse, perhaps a baseless one, appalled her. Her will and her foundation of motherhood seemed to be collapsing. She could no longer move him by her words any more than an old woman could twist a lid off of a jar; and for the first time in her life she was losing confidence in her own will.
Betty came out to her.
"You gotted all of the lights up there, Miss?"