The report of the June 21, 1993 opinion arrived among the other things Marion had carried home: a spool of gray thread, a receipt for machine servicing, and bread Frank had requested. She put the bread away before opening the paper. According to the account, the appellate court had examined the questioning of prospective jurors and rejected the challenge alleging jury bias. It had upheld consecutive sentences for five separate killings. The judgment was affirmed. She read the passage again, this time without searching for a reference to her.
There was no new task for her in it. She had not been responsible for the juror questioning or the sentencing decisions, and reading about them did not make her responsible now. The court's conclusion belonged to the court. She placed the report with the others and checked that the dates faced the same way. At the bottom lay the older image that had stopped her in the supermarket. She did not unfold it. She could remember the interruption without asking the printed face to produce it again.
Frank watched her fit the papers into a folder. “Are you keeping all of them?” he asked. “For now.” She took out a duplicate clipping and put it with the discarded envelopes, then closed the drawer. She had once imagined that the last official decision would settle something inside the household as neatly as it settled the public question before the court. Instead, the kitchen still needed sweeping, and Ruth was expecting her outside the supermarket at two. Marion checked her watch and fetched her shopping list.
Ruth was waiting beside the carts, wearing the light jacket she kept for overcooled stores. She handed Marion a cart and said she only needed a few things. They began with produce. Marion chose potatoes while Ruth compared two bags of apples, turning each to inspect the bottom. It was agreeable work to do together, neither a family gathering requiring careful hospitality nor a conversation arranged for the purpose of having a conversation. Marion crossed potatoes from her list and followed Ruth toward the bread.
Near the dairy cases, Ruth said she had renewed Nora's afternoon arrangement for the coming term. Marion kept her hand on the cart handle. She had understood that the old arrangement would not return immediately, yet some part of her had preserved a later date at which it surely would. “With the same person?” she asked. Ruth said yes. Nora knew the routine, and it fitted the school day. Marion looked at the eggs in Ruth's basket and noticed one carton sat crookedly against a bottle.
She could have mentioned the report, although Ruth had not asked about it. She could have counted the afternoons she had kept since the trouble began, the school event, the hems finished on time, the visits when she had stayed as long as promised. None of those was an argument against a working arrangement for Nora. “I'm glad you have it settled,” she said. Then, because she did not want politeness to do the work of honesty, she added, “I hoped you might ask me again. But I understand.”
Ruth adjusted the egg carton. “I'd still like you to come over. Just not be the whole plan.” Marion heard the limit and the invitation together. “Then ask me over,” she said. “You don't need a reason.” Ruth nodded and reached for milk. They stood briefly in the cold air from the case, making room for another shopper. Marion did not ask which day. There would be a telephone call, or she would make one herself, and either of them would be allowed to be busy.
In the next aisle she realized she had forgotten flour. She told Ruth and went back for it rather than deciding she could manage without it. The familiar shelves held nothing she needed to interpret. She checked the weight on the bag, chose the smaller size, and returned to the cart. At checkout she laid out every item, matching them against the list before putting it away. Ruth paid separately. They spoke about whether the weather would hold through the weekend while the cashier passed their groceries across the counter.
Outside, Ruth reached for her own bag. Marion nearly took it by habit, then let her daughter lift it. They walked together as far as the corner, where their routes divided. Ruth said she would call about Sunday. Marion said she would be home after four. There was no need to promise more. She watched Ruth turn, adjusted the handles against her fingers, and carried the rest home herself. Source note
Private scenes are not verified events, quotations, or judicial findings.
Additional sources
https://law.justia.com/cases/new-jersey/appellate-division-published/1993/270-n-j-super-169-1.html https://leb.fbi.gov/file-repository/archives/january-1994.pdf