“We haven’t seen much of Beth and Henry.” Ruth sounded apologetic. “Time was when Ferndale seemed practically next door to Walnut Street. But now”—she sighed—“by the time I get the kids organized, or a few hours of an afternoon, it seems a million miles off.”
“I know,” Chuck nodded. “Took me an hour and a quarter to get over here.”
“Mercy!”
“Both cities,” Jim said, speaking with professional assurance, “were horse-and-buggy designed. I read the other day in my drafting magazine that cities are strangling themselves.
Green Prairie and River City sure are!” Jim suddenly realized that, although his nephew was the younger man, he had a degree in architecture. “What do you think?” he asked, yielding his moment of pontification.
“You’d believe so, if you could hear Dad and his wardens talk! They jammed up Green Prairie, but good, last week.”
Ruth said, “I wish Hank Conner would get out of that thing!”
Charles lit a cigarette. “Why? He loves it. Dad’s a kind of natural leader of folks.”
“Think of the effect on Nora, though—and Ted—”
“ What effect?”