A slender ray of morning sunlight fell across the polished top of Frank Beal’s Sherman Clay upright piano. He lightly tapped the keys with the tips of his fingers patiently waiting for inspiration to ignite.

“Good morning dad,” greeted Matt, still nibbling on a wedge of toast.

Frank turned on the piano stool. “Morning Matt. Ready for school?”

Matt bounced in, his eight-year-old freckled face sparkling with a soap clean smile.

 “Knock, knock,” he said fairly squirming with anticipation.

Frank looked at his son. “What?”

“Knock, knock,” Matt repeated.

Frank sighed and took his fingers off the keyboard. “All right,” he said. “Who’s there?”

Matt covered his mouth to muffle a giggle. “Little ole lady.”

“Little ole lady who?” Frank asked trying to guess the puzzle.

“I didn’t know you could yodel,” Matt said throwing his head back to howl with laughter.

“Matt!” Joan called. “We have to go.”

“Okay mom,” he said as he rolled his big blue-green eyes.

Frank reached out to ruffle his son’s hair.

Joan entered the room with her keys in hand. “The Roberts are getting a new Ford Fairlane station wagon this week-end.” She placed a brochure on the piano in front of Frank. “What do you say we go to the Ford dealer tonight and have a look at them?”

Frank frowned. “What’s wrong with our Caballero? Wouldn’t you really rather have a Buick?”

“What?” She pulled her fox jacket on. “You want me to drive around in a seven year old car?” She shook her head. “I couldn’t live with myself if I had to drive past their new car everyday.”

“But I’m living with you,” Frank replied.

“Exactly,” Joan said as she turned toward the bottom of the stairs. “Melinda!” She called.

Objection marked Frank’s face. “Honey, it’s been a tough year. I’m really struggling with this new ad campaign and ideas aren’t exactly flowing out of me.” He stood up to walk toward her. “I think we should keep the spending down for awhile.”

Joan smiled at him sweetly and tilted her head. “You’ve never let us down before.” She stepped in front of him and wrapped her arms around his neck. She rose on tiptoe and planted a long wet one on him.

“Groady!” Matt grimaced.

Frank laughed and stepped over to playfully lift Matt up off his feet.

Clomping equal to the sound of horse hooves descended the stairs. “I’m ready,” Melinda announced.

“You’ve something under your eyes,” Joan said wetting her thumb and leaning toward her.

“Don’t you dare wipe off my tweaks, Mother!” Melinda shrieked.

Joan’s face pinched up. “Why do you need to wear tweaks?”

“Twiggy wears them; they make your eyes look bigger.” Melinda widened her eyes then batted her false eyelashes and ran her fingers through her long blond hair.

“They look more like dangling caterpillars, and Twiggy gets paid to wear them,” Joan snapped.

Melinda flicked her hair back and with half lidded eyes said, “I’ve decided to become a model, Mother.”

“Where’s your sister?” Joan asked as she adjusted her jacket.

Melinda shrugged and clomped to the front door. “I’m riding to school with Bobby today.”

Joan turned toward her. “You’ve been seeing an awful lot of him lately.”

Melinda grinned from ear to ear. “I know.” She opened the door and stepped out.