Local Hero

“I’m fine.”
    Radley stared up at her, his eyes widening, then his bottom lip trembling as he saw the black-and-blue mark under her eye. “Did you fall down?”
    She wanted to lie and say yes, but she’d never lied to him. “Not exactly.” She forced a smile, annoyed to have a witness to her explanation. “It seems that there was a man at the subway station who wanted my purse. I wanted it, too.”
    “You were mugged?” Mitch wasn’t sure whether to swear at her or gather her close and check for injuries. Hester’s long, withering look didn’t give him the chance to do either.
    “Sort of.” She moved her shoulders to show Radley it was of little consequence. “It wasn’t all that exciting, I’m afraid. The subway was crowded. Someone saw what was going on and called security, so the man changed his mind about my purse and ran away.”
    Radley looked closer. He’d seen a black eye before. Joey Phelps had had a really neat one once. But he’d never seen one on his mother. “Did he hit you?”
    “Not really. That part was sort of an accident.” An accident that hurt like the devil. “We were having this tug-of-war over my purse, and his elbow shot up. I didn’t duck quick enough, that’s all.”
    “Stupid,” Mitch muttered loud enough to be heard.
    “Did you hit him?”
    “Of course not,” Hester answered, and thought longingly of her ice pack. “Go put your things away now, Radley.”
    “But I want to know about—”
    “Now,” his mother interrupted in a tone she used rarely but to great effect.
    “Yes, ma’am,” Radley mumbled, and lugged the backpack off the couch.
    Hester waited until he’d turned the corner into his room. “I want you to know I don’t appreciate your interference.”
    “You haven’t begun to see interference. What the hell’s wrong with you? You know better than to fight with a mugger over a purse. What if he’d had a knife?” Even the thought of it had his reliable imagination working overtime.
    “He didn’t have a knife.” Hester felt her knees begin to tremble. The damnedest thing was that the reaction had chosen the most inopportune moment to set in. “And he doesn’t have my purse, either.”
    “Or a black eye. For God’s sake, Hester, you could have been seriously hurt, and I doubt there’s anything in your purse that would warrant it. Credit cards can be canceled, a compact or a lipstick replaced.”
    “I suppose if someone had tried to lift your wallet you’d have given him your blessing.”
    “That’s different.”
    “The hell it is.”
    He stopped pacing long enough to give her a long study. Her chin was thrust out, in the same way he’d seen Radley’s go a few times. He’d expected the stubbornness, but he had to admit he hadn’t expected the ready temper, or his admiration for it. But that was beside the point, he reminded himself as his gaze swept over her bruised cheekbone again.
    “Let’s just back up a minute. In the first place, you’ve got no business taking the subway alone.”
    She let out what might have been a laugh. “You’ve got to be kidding.”
    The funny thing was, he couldn’t remember ever having said anything quite that stupid. It brought his own temper bubbling over. “Take a cab, damn it.”
    “I have no intention of taking a cab.”
    “Why?”
    “In the first place it would be stupid, and in the second I can’t afford it.”
    Mitch dragged the check out of his pocket and pushed it into her hand. “Now you can afford it, along with a reasonable tip.”
    “I have no intention of taking this.” She shoved the crumpled check back at him. “Or of taking a taxi when the subway is both inexpensive and convenient. And I have less intention of allowing you to take a small incident and blow it into a major calamity. I don’t want Radley upset.”
    “Fine, then take a cab. For the kid’s sake, if not your own. Think how it would have been for him if you’d really been hurt.”
    The bruise stood out darkly as her cheeks paled. “I don’t need you or anyone to lecture me on the welfare of my son.”
    “No, you do just fine by him. It’s when it comes to Hester that you’ve got a few loose screws.” He jammed his hands into his pockets. “Okay, you won’t take a cab. At least promise you won’t play Sally Courageous the next time some lowlife decides he likes the color of your purse.”
    Hester brushed at the sleeve of her jacket. “Is that the name of one of your characters?”
    “It