The naked V, folded, was not hard to manage, especially with Mildred, who was stronger than she looked, helping.

Mildred had already put a cash box and an immense roll of double tickets in the booth. After Betsy helped redrape the quilt, Mildred fixed Betsy with a look. “They’re a dollar apiece,” she said in her sweet but firm old-woman’s voice, “six for five dollars. How many shall I tear off for you?”

Betsy sighed and bought twenty dollars’ worth, asking in her own firmest voice for a receipt so she could record the money as a charitable donation. It never occurred to her that she might win-Betsy never won raffles.

Perhaps, she reflected on her way back into the shop, she had been a little too quick to promise her sponsorship of Lars and his Steamer. Between the parts he had had to order-very expensive and one all the way from England-and the strange, also expensive, requirements in cylinder and gear oil and kerosene for the pilot light, and the lousy mileage it got on gasoline-plus the entry fee for the Antique Car Run and raffle tickets, this was turning out to be a very expensive sponsorship. She was also beginning to regret that she’d volunteered to help out at the Run. It was taking too much time away from the shop. And since her volunteer assignment on the day of the New London-New Brighton run was to record the names of the drivers as they left on the run, and then to help prepare and serve lunch at the halfway stop, she wasn’t even going to get to ride with Lars next Saturday.

She began the opening-up process in her shop. She was going to be in and out today, so Godwin was going to be helped by Shelly Donohue, an elementary school teacher who worked for Betsy during the summer months. Betsy turned on the lights, put the start-up money in the cash register, and tuned the radio to a classical station with the volume barely audible. She was just plugging in the old vacuum cleaner when Shelly came in.

“Did you hear the latest?” asked Shelly breathlessly.

Shelly was an inveterate gossip, and her “latest” was usually exceedingly trivial, but Betsy politely delayed turning on the machine so she could hear whatever the silly tidbit was.

“John threw Godwin out.”

Betsy dropped the wand. “Oh, Shelly, are you sure?”

“How sure do you want? Godwin slept at my house last night.”

“Is he very upset?”

“We sat up till two this morning, and he never stopped crying for more than five minutes at a time. He’s a real mess.”

“I suppose that means he won’t be in today?” Betsy felt for Godwin, but she really needed two people in the shop on weekends. Especially this weekend, with two attractions bringing lots of visitors to town.

“He said he’d be here, but to tell you he’d be late, because he had to go get his clothes. He got a call from a neighbor that they’re in a big pile along the curb outside John’s condo.”

Betsy sat down. Godwin’s clothes were enormously expensive: Armani suits, silk shirts, alpaca sweaters, handmade shoes, all bought by John, of course-Godwin couldn’t have bought the sleeve of one suit on the salary Betsy paid him. John loved to ornament his handsome boy toy and had taught Godwin to treat the clothes with respect. If they had been unceremoniously dumped out in the street, this wasn’t a mere lover’s quarrel; John must be serious about the breakup.

“This is terrible. I feel so sorry for Godwin! And I can’t imagine him coming in after having to pick his beautiful clothes up off the ground. How cruel of John!”

“I agree. Goddy is so upset that even if he does turn up, I don’t think he’ll be much use. So what are we going to do? With you out most of the day, we have to have another person.”

“All right, call Caitlin and see if she’s available. If she isn’t, go down the list. If you get down to Laverne, you’ll want a third person.” Caitlin, a high school senior, had been stitching since she was six; Laverne, a retired brewery worker, barely knew linen from Aida and was afraid of the cash register. “Meanwhile, I hope he comes before I have to get back out to the booth. I really want to talk to him. Has he got someplace to go? I mean, besides your place?”

“I don’t think so. He was crying that John made him give up all his real friends, except me and you. But he can stay with me for as long as he wants. I’ve got a spare bedroom. And Goddy doesn’t mind the dogs.”

“Is that what the fight was about, John’s jealousy?” asked Betsy.

“Something like that. Goddy says John accused him-falsely, Goddy says-of flirting with Donny DePere at a party. But John is very jealous, he won’t let Goddy have any male friends, even straight ones.” A smile flickered across Shelly’s face. “Goddy says he’s so frustrated he caught himself flirting with a girl just to keep his hand in.”

“What do you think, was Godwin flirting with another man?”

Shelly hesitated only briefly. “Yes, I think so. But it’s still John’s fault, don’t you think?”

“I don’t think I have a right to an opinion. I don’t know the rules of that relationship, and I only met John once.”

“Yes, well, that snotty attitude you saw at your Christmas party-” Shelly assumed a lofty attitude and sniffed lightly. “ ‘How terribly tedious your friends are, Goddy,’ ” she murmured, then grimaced. “That’s John all over. What a jerk!”

“Yes, but he’s a wealthy jerk. That enables Godwin to work here for very low wages, for which I am very grateful,” said Betsy heartlessly. “So encourage Goddy to kiss and make up, will you?”

The door went Bing! and they turned to see the subject of their conversation come in. Godwin was a handsome young man of barely medium height, slim and blond, wearing tight jeans, a white linen shirt with no collar, and loafers with no socks. Normally ebullient and witty, he was looking very woebegone at the moment.

“Hi, Godwin,” said Betsy. “I was afraid we might not see you today. I’m so sorry about you and John.”

At this show of sympathy, tears formed in his sky-blue eyes. “What am I going to do?”

Shelly went to him. “You’re going to stay with me until John comes to his senses,” she said, taking him by the arm. “He has to learn that you have feelings, too.” She led him to the library table in the middle of the room, and pulled a chair out for him. “Now sit down for a minute and pull yourself together.”

“Thank you,” murmured Godwin.

“Would you like a cup of coffee? Oh! I haven’t made the coffee yet! It’ll just take a minute. You just sit and wait, and think happy thoughts.”

“All right,” he said, but instead he made a little display of his grief, dropping his head and sighing, touching the end of his nose, then wiping under each eye, and sighing again.

Betsy said, pulling the vacuum cleaner over by the door, “Are you going to be able to work today?”

Godwin lifted his head. “Oh, I’ll get through it somehow. After all, now I really need the money.”

“Shelly says you’re staying with her, and can stay as long as you like. That will help.”

Godwin smiled sadly. “Shelly is the nicest person in the world. It’s so lovely having someone coo over you and make you little treats and bring hot cocoa to you in bed. Don’t you agree?”

Betsy laughed. “Ever since I was a little child with measles.”

Godwin straightened. “Why are you so sure I’m feeling too sorry for myself? John has never gone this far before. My beautiful clothes, all dirty and wrinkled! Does he think I’m going to go crawling back to him after this?”

“If he threw you out, don’t you have to wait for an invitation before you go crawling back?”

“Oh,” said Godwin, looking disconcerted. “Well, yes, I suppose I do. Well, say, that puts the ball in his court, doesn’t it? I don’t have to try to think of an excuse to call him, do I? And when he finds out I’ve got a place to stay, he’ll be the one getting anxious. Won’t he?”