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disease.”
    â€œListen to who’s talking.” Phoebe forked up a bite of chicken and looked at her mother. “And listen to who’s not. Mama?”
    â€œI was just thinking how nice it would be if you had somebody to go out to dinner with, to the movies, to take walks with.” She laid a hand over Phoebe’s. “Only time there’s a man’s voice in this house is when Carter’s over, or a repairman comes in. What’s this really cute man do?”
    â€œI’m not entirely sure, not altogether sure.” She sipped more wine. “I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.”
    Â 
    Whenever she was home and could manage it, Phoebe liked to tuck Carly into bed. With her little girl at seven and counting, Phoebe knew the tucking-in stage wouldn’t last much longer. So she prized it.
    â€œPast your bedtime, my cutie.” Phoebe bent to kiss the tip of Carly’s nose.
    â€œJust a little bit past. Can I stay up until any-o’clock on Friday night?”
    â€œHmm.” 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?”
    â€œThat’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.”
    â€œI 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.”
    â€œMama?” Carly said when Phoebe turned off the bedside lamp.
    â€œYes, baby.”
    â€œDo 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?”
    â€œI asked you. ”
    â€œSo you did.” And honesty was a linchpin of her relationship with her little girl. “No, sweetie, I don’t.”
    â€œGood.”
    â€œCarly—”
    â€œIt’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.”
    â€œI 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.”
    â€œLooking isn’t shopping. We can just look and not buy anything.”
    â€œThat’s what you always say. And River Street’ll be jammed with tourists on Saturday.”
    â€œMaybe we should just go to the mall then.”
    â€œYou’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.”
    â€œI sure do love you. Mama, if I get A’s on my next three spelling tests, can I—”
    â€œNegotiations 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