Commonwealth

by Ann Patchett

Dick Spencer explained that Fix Keating had a new kid, and that there was going to be a christening party. “First kid?” Cousins had asked, watching Keating retreat down the hall in his blues. “Second.” “They do all that for second kids?” “Catholics,” Spencer said and shrugged. “They can’t get enough of it.”

Teresa had once thought her husband to be the handsomest man in the world, when in fact he looked like one of those gargoyles perched on a high corner of Notre Dame that’s meant to scare the devil away.

The nuns had led her to believe that God gave preference to people who did things the hard way.

“They’re free,” Franny said. “I check them out of the library.” “Well, thank God for libraries,” Caroline said.