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Right now； a cat lurked in the living room； fixing the TV set； and Nora was in the kitchen； gripped by mouselike fear。 She was not actually in the middle of cooking anything； as she had told Streck。 For a moment she stood by the sink； one cold hand clasped in the other…her hands always seemed to be cold…wondering what to do until he finished his work and left。 She decided to bake a cake。 A yellow cake with chocolate icing。 That task would keep her occupied and help turn her mind away from the memory of Streck's suggestive winking。
She got bowls； utensils； an electric mixer； plus the cake mix and other ingredients out of the cupboards； and she set to work。 Soon her frayed nerves were soothed by the mundane domestic activity。
Just as she finished pouring the batter into the two baking pans； Streck stepped into the kitchen and said； 〃You like to cook？〃
Surprised； she nearly dropped the empty metal mixing bowl and the battersmeared spatula。 Somehow； she managed to hold on to them and…with only a little clatter to betray her tension…put them into the sink to be washed。 〃Yes。 I like to cook。〃
〃Isn't that nice？ I admire a woman who enjoys doing woman's work。 Do You sew； crochet； do embroidery； anything like that？〃
〃Needlepoint；〃 she said。
〃That's even nicer。〃
〃Is the TV fixed？〃
〃Almost。〃
Nora was ready to put the cake in the oven； but she did not want to carry
the pans while Streck was watching her because she was afraid she would shake too much。 Then he'd realize that she was intimidated by him； and he would probably get bolder。 So she left the full pans on the counter and tore open the box of icing mix instead。
Streck came farther into the big kitchen； moving casually； very relaxed； looking around with an amiable smile； but ing straight toward her。 〃Think I could have a glass of water？〃
Nora almost sighed with relief； eager to believe that a drink of cold water was all that had brought him here。 〃Oh； yes； of course；〃 she said。 She took a glass from the cupboard； ran the cold water。
When she turned to hand it to him； he was standing close behind her； having crept up with catlike quiet。 She gave an involuntary start。 Water slopped out of the glass and splattered on the floor。
She said； 〃You…〃
〃Here；〃 he said； taking the glass from her hand。
〃…startled me。〃
〃Me？〃 he said； smiling； fixing her with icy blue eyes。 〃Oh； I certainly didn't mean to。 I'm sorry。 I'm harmless； Mrs。 Devon。 Really； I am。 All I want is a drink of water。 You didn't think I wanted anything else…did you？〃
He was so damned bold。 She couldn't believe how bold he was； how smart…mouthed and cool and aggressive。 She wanted to slap his face； but she was afraid of what would happen after that。 Slapping him…in any way acknowledging his insulting double entendres or other offenses…seemed sure to encourage rather than deter him。
He stared at her with unsettling intensity； voraciously。 His smile was that of a predator。
She sensed the best way to handle Streck was to pretend innocence and monumental thick headedness； to ignore his nasty sexual innuendos as if she had not understood them。 She must； in short； deal with him as a mouse might deal with any threat from which it was unable to flee。 Pretend you do not see the cat； pretend that it is not there； and perhaps the cat will be confused and disappointed by the lack of reaction and will seek more responsive prey elsewhere。
To break away from his demanding gaze； Nora tore a couple of paper towels from the dispenser beside the sink and began to mop up the water she had spilled on the floor。 But the moment she stooped before Streck； she realized she'd made a mistake； because he did not move out of her way but stood over her； loomed over her； while she squatted in front of him。 The situation was full of erotic symbolism。 When she realized the submissiveness implied by her position at his feet； she popped up again and saw that his smile had broadened。
Flushed and flustered； Nora threw the damp towels into the waste can under the sink。
Art Streck said； 〃Cooking； needlepoint 。 。 。 yeah； I think that's real nice； real nice。 What other things do you like to do？〃
〃That's it； I'm afraid；〃 she said。 〃I don't have any unusual hobbies。 I'm not a very interesting person。 Low…key。 Dull； even。〃
Damning herself for being unable to order the bastard out of her house； she slipped past him and went to the oven； ostensibly to check that it was finished preheating； but she was really just trying to get out of Streck's reach。
He followed her； staying close。 〃When I pulled up out front； I saw lots of flowers。 You tend the flowers？〃
Staring at the oven dials； she said； 〃Yes 。 。 。 I like gardening。〃
〃I approve of that；〃 he said； as if she ought to care whether he approved or not。 〃Flowers 。 。 。 that's a good thing for a woman to have an interest in。 Cooking； needlepoint； gardening…why you're just full of womanly interests and talents。 I'll bet you do everything well； Mrs。 Devon。 I mean everything a woman should do。 I'll bet you're a first…rate woman in every department。〃
If be touches me； I'll scream； she thought。
However； the walls of the old house were thick； and the neighbors were some distance away。 No one would hear her or e to her rescue。
I'll kick him； she thought。 I'll fight back。
But； in fact； she was not sure that she would fight； was not sure that she had the gumption to fight。 Even if she did attempt to defend herself； he was bigger and stronger than she was。
〃Yeah； I'll bet you're a first…rate woman in every department；〃 he repeated； delivering the line more provocatively than before。
Turning from the oven； she forced a laugh。 〃My husband would be astonished to hear that。 I'm not too bad at cakes； but I've still not learned to make a decent piecrust； and my pot roast always turns out bone…dry。 My needlepoint's not half bad； but it takes me forever to get anything done。〃 She slipped past him and returned to the counter。 She was amazed to hear herself chattering on as she opened the box of icing mix。 Desperation made her garrulous。 〃I've got a green thumb with flowers； but I'm not much of a housekeeper； and if my husband didn't help out…why； this place would be a disaster。〃
She thought she sounded phony。 She detected a note of hysteria in her voice that had to be evident to him。 But the mention of a husband had obviously given Art Streck second thoughts about pushing her further。 As Nora poured the mix into a bowl and measured out the required butter； Streck drank the water she had given him。 He went to the sink and put the empty glass in the dishpan with the dirty bowls and utensils。 This time he did not press unnecessarily close to her。
〃Well； I better get back to work；〃 he said。
She gave him a calculatedly distracted smile； and nodded。 She began to hum softly as she returned to her own task； as if untroubled。
He crossed the kitchen and pushed open the swinging door； then stopped and said； 〃Your aunt really liked dark places； didn't she？ This kitchen would be swell； too； if you brightened it up。〃
Before she could respond； he went out； letting the door swing shut behind him。
In spite of his unasked…for opinion of the kitchen