whale moves jauntily onto the front lawn, singing to himself:
hanna runs down the path, clutching the front of her apron in two tight fists.
clay fetches a pair of hedge clippers from his truck. he can't help stopping by the side-view mirror to look at his face.
clay prunes the roses on the front lawn. hanna appears, frowning.
hanna stands at the front door, hands tangled in her apron. whale tugs his hat brim at her as the car swings around the driveway.