High Noon

hauled two picnic tables together to form one long space.
    She was comfortably round in the way that made Phoebe imagine every child would want to crawl into her lap, would want to rest their head on her breast for comfort. Her handsome face with its deep-set eyes, strong nose and mouth, was capped off by a puffball of ebony curls.
    Both hands fisted on her generous hips, and when a big yellow dog streaked by after the blur of a gray-striped cat, she threw back her head and laughed so her whole body shook with it.
    Then she turned toward the ancient old man, her hands moving. It took Phoebe a moment to realize she wasn’t merely gesturing but signing. The old man wheezed out a laugh, signed back.
    Duncan’s arm draped around Phoebe’s shoulder, and when she glanced up to smile at him, she saw he was looking over at the laughing woman. On his face, deep in those soft blue eyes of his, was absolute and unconditional love.
    It struck her suddenly, and with a little curl of terror, that this was a moment. Not just a backyard barbecue.
    She had to fight the urge to streak away like the cat when Duncan led her forward. “Ma Bee.”
    Bee took hold of him first, her big arms going around him, pulling him into a hard, full hug. When she pulled him back, she patted his face with both hands. “You’re still skinny, and you’re still white.”
    “You’re still the love of my life.”
    She gave that full-body laugh, but her eyes were tender on his face. Then they shifted, turning speculative, to Phoebe.
    “Ma Bee, this is Phoebe Mac Namara. Phoebe, Beatrice Hector.”
    “It’s wonderful to meet you, Mrs. Hector. Thank you for having me today.”
    “Somebody’s ma raised her right.” She winked at Duncan. “You’re welcome here,” she told Phoebe. “You brought me daisies? I’ve got a fondness for daisies, thank you.” She took them, cradled them. “They’ve got such happy faces. Tisha? You take these daisies in for me, and get that blue glass vase Arnette gave me last Mother’s Day. It’s in the right-side cupboard under the big server. That blue vase is just what these daisies want.”
    Bee made introductions as one of the teenage girls came over for the flowers. Phoebe got a polite if measuring look—Duncan a wistful one.
    “Uncle Walter here’s been deaf since he got hurt in the Korean War,” Bee explained, and signed Phoebe’s name for him. And snickered when he signed back. “Says you’re prettier than the last one this skinny white boy brought by.”
    With a smile, Phoebe gave the sign for thanks. “It’s one of the few I know,” she said as Bee pursed her lips. “Hello, goodbye, thanks.”
    “You decide you need to converse with him, he can read lips if you talk straight to him, and slow. Mostly, he’s going to sleep anyway. And this here’s my daughter-in-law, my second boy Phin’s wife. Loo—”
    “I know you,” Phoebe and Loo said together.
    “Lieutenant Mac Namara.”
    “Louise Hector, for the defense. Small world.”
    “Seems like, and previously we’ve been on opposite sides of it. Welcome to Ma’s.”
    “Since you’re acquainted, you get Phoebe what she drinks, and introduce her ’round the rest of the way.” Bee lifted her chin toward the picnic tables. “We’ve got to get food out on the tables here.”
    Excellent, Phoebe thought, busywork. Just the thing to ease herself into the social. “Is there something I can do to help?”
    “Guests don’t haul out the dishes. That’s for family. Duncan, we need some more chairs.”
    “Yes, ma’am. Get you ladies a drink first?”
    “We’ll take care of it,” Loo told him, and led Phoebe away. “What do you drink?”
    All right, alcohol, another way to ease into the social. “What’s handy?”
    Phoebe ended up with a plastic cup of chilled chardonnay, and so many names in her head she tried to alphabetize them to keep them straight.
    “I didn’t put the Phoebe Duncan talked about together with the lieutenant from the Hostage and Crisis Unit.” Loo glanced over as they crossed the lawn edged with cheery flower beds and chunky shrubs. “I’m sorry to hear you were hurt a couple weeks ago.”
    “I’m doing fine now.”
    “Well, you look fine. Love the dress. Let me introduce you to the grill masters. Phoebe Mac Namara, my brother-in-law Zachary, and my husband, Phineas. Phoebe’s a cop, so watch yourselves.”
    “Off duty.” Phoebe lifted the wine cup as she shifted to avoid the smoke billowing from