High Noon

night?”
    “Hmm.” Phoebe brushed her hand over Carly’s curls. “Any-o’clock could be arranged. Let’s see how you do on your Friday spelling test.”
    Bright-eyed with the idea, Carly pushed to sitting, gave a butt bounce. “If I get a hundred, can we rent a DVD, have popcorn and stay up till any-o’clock?”
    “That’s a lot of reward.” Gently, firmly, Phoebe put the heel of her hand to Carly’s forehead and nudged her back down. “You have an arithmetic test on Friday, too, don’t you?”
    Carly’s gaze went to her Barbie sheets. “Maybe. It’s harder than spelling.”
    “I always thought so, too. But if you do well on both your tests, we have a deal on the DVD, the popcorn and the any-o’clock. You get some sleep now, so your brain’s ready to study tomorrow.”
    “Mama?” Carly said when Phoebe turned off the bedside lamp.
    “Yes, baby.”
    “Do you miss Roy?”
    Not Daddy, Phoebe thought. Not Dad, not even—very often—my father. It was a pitiful commentary. Phoebe sat on the side of the bed, stroked her fingers over Carly’s cheek. “Do you?”
    “I asked you. ”
    “So you did.” And honesty was a linchpin of her relationship with her little girl. “No, sweetie, I don’t.”
    “Good.”
    “Carly—”
    “It’s okay. I don’t miss him either, and it’s okay. I was just wondering because of what Gran said at dinner about having somebody to take walks with and stuff.”
    “I can take walks with you.”
    Carly’s pretty mouth curved. “We could take a walk on Saturday. A long walk. Down to River Street.”
    On to the ploy, Phoebe narrowed her eyes. “We are not going shopping.”
    “Looking isn’t shopping. We can just look and not buy anything.”
    “That’s what you always say. And River Street’ll be jammed with tourists on Saturday.”
    “Maybe we should just go to the mall then.”
    “You’re tricky, kid, but you can’t win this one. No shopping this weekend. And no talking your grandmama into buying you something online either.”
    Now Carly rolled her eyes. “Okay.”
    With a laugh, Phoebe snuggled down for a major hug. “Boy, oh boy, I sure do love you into little, bitty pieces.”
    “I sure do love you. Mama, if I get A’s on my next three spelling tests, can I—”
    “Negotiations are closed for the night, and so, Carly Anne Mac Namara, are you.”
    She tapped a finger to her lips as she rose. And when she went out, she left the door open a couple of inches so the hallway light slanted in, the way her baby liked it.
    She needed to get her work started. There was a good two hours of it waiting for her. But instead of angling toward her home office, Phoebe veered off toward her mother’s sitting room.
    Essie was there, as she was most evenings, crocheting.
    “Got an order for a christening gown,” Essie said, looking up with a smile as her fingers continued to ply thread and hook.
    Phoebe moved over, sat in the pretty little tapestry chair that matched the one her mother used. “You do such beautiful work.”
    “I enjoy it. Satisfying. I know it doesn’t bring in a lot of money, Phoebe, but—”
    “Satisfying’s most important. The people who buy your work, why, they’re buying heirlooms. They’re lucky. Mama, Carly asked about Roy.”
    “Oh?” Essie’s hands stilled now. “Is she upset?”
    “No. Not at all. She wanted to know if I miss him. I told her the truth, that I don’t, and I have to hope that was the right thing.”
    “I think it was, if you’re asking me.” Concern filled Essie’s eyes. “We’ve had us some lousy luck with men, haven’t we, baby girl?”
    “Oh yeah.” Leaning back, Phoebe let her gaze wander to the ceiling, the beautiful plaster work of an old, grand home. “I’m wondering if I shouldn’t cancel this sort-of date I’ve got tomorrow.”
    “Why would you do that?”
    “We’re doing all right, aren’t we? Carly’s happy. You’ve got your satisfying work, I’ve got mine. Ava’s content—though I do wish she and Dave would stop pretending, now that they’re both single, that they’re not attracted to each other. So, why mix anything else in with having drinks in some pub with a man I don’t even know?”
    “Because you’re a lovely young woman, with so much of her life ahead of her. You’ve got to step out of this henhouse sometimes. Which may sound silly, coming from me, but it’s true.” Essie’s hands started moving again. “The last thing I want is for you to start