WE DISCOVERED THE FOLLOWING MORNING THAT THE POWER WAS out not only on our street but throughout the neighborhood. It wasn’t until midafternoon that they finished repairing the relay station or whatever it was that short-circuited. Mr. Price survived, thanks to Dad’s quick intervention, but his recovery was expected to be slow. When the temperature had reached ninety degrees well before noon, ill-feeling began to spread through a neighborhood contemplating a summer without a capable air-conditioning repairman at hand. I was sure the local weatherman was gloating when he reported the National Weather Service’s prediction that temperatures for the coming month would be above average. If anyone blamed us, they could take consolation in the fact that we were suffering more than most. Dad and the sheriff insisted on
taking the fuse box away to be examined by an expert to see if it had been tampered with. It was going to be a few days before we could have another fuse box installed and get our power back. Mother went to stay with Pam, who had plenty of room with Mal and most of the kids away. I stayed on at the house. With the answering machine out of commission, I didn’t feel I could leave the phone for too long. I might miss a vital call from a caterer, a florist, or someone who had peacocks.