to him?”
“I do, thank you. And Jessie…”
“Yeah? I mean, yes, sir?”
“I’ve been meaning to tell you this for ages. You’re a lovely girl. We’re all proud of you.”
She caught her breath, considered his remark, then giggled. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. See you when we get back.”
“Hey,” said Dooley.
“Hey, yourself! Lace Harper’s dropping over at four o’clock. Cynthia made lemonade and pimiento cheese sandwiches. Want to come?”
Silence. Maybe he should throw in a plate of brownies. He could run to Sweet Stuff….
“Dooley?”
“I don’t know, I don’t think so.”
“It’ll take thirty minutes, maybe an hour, it won’t be a long visit.”
“I don’t think so.”
He observed his own silence. “Well, then. I’ll drive out to Meadowgate with you on Thursday morning, OK?”
“OK.”
“We love you, buddy.”
“Love you back.”
Click.
“He’s not coming,” said Father Tim, feeling oddly bereft.
His barefoot wife thumped onto the sofa beside him. “Want to bet?”
Perhaps he’d write an essay on the mystery of a woman’s ability to know and sense things beyond a man’s ken. At five ’til four, the front door opened and Dooley blew down the hall.
“Hey.”
He and Cynthia offered their family greeting in unison. “Hey, yourself!”
“I forgot something.”
“What?” asked Cynthia.
“My, umm, tennis shoes.”
“You’re wearing them.”
Dooley blushed. “Oh, right. I mean, no, not these. My old ones.”
“You outgrew them.”
Father Tim put his arm around his wife’s shoulder, hoping to distract her. She was a regular CIA agent, a storm trooper. “Cynthia…”
“I want them for…for Poo!” said Dooley.
“For Poo! What a great idea. Of course !”
“Of course!” said Father Tim. Quick thinking! Chalk one up for Dooley.
Dooley grinned, displaying sixteen hundred dollars’ worth of recent dental work, underwritten by Miss Sadie’s trust.
Handsome! thought Father Tim. Smart as a whip! The light of our lives!
His doctor was right. Lace Harper was…what had Hoppy said, exactly? Gorgeous. Slightly bucktoothed when he’d first encountered her stealing Miss Sadie’s ferns, Lace had obviously undergone dental work of her own. However, it was her eyes that engaged him. He’d remembered them as brown, but they were, in fact, amber, a startling, clear amber that gave this young woman great presence.
Dooley tried to sprawl on the study sofa, but, finding it impossible to appear nonchalant, returned to posing as ice sculpture.
“What will you be doing this summer?” his wife asked their guest.
“My friend Alicia invited me to visit her aunt in Martha’s Vineyard, but we’re going to take a family trip out West.”
He noted that Lace pronounced aunt like the Virginians, and not like Mitfordians, who comfortably used what sounded like ant and even aint.
“I love the West!” Cynthia said. “Where?”
“Hoppy’s great-grandfather had a ranch in Montana, so we’re going there, then we’re going to explore the Oregon Trail.” Lace smiled suddenly.
Father Tim thought her smile a miracle of healing; in the early years, her countenance had reflected only anger and the weight of a terrible sadness. Further, he thought her poise was nothing to be taken lightly. Though a year younger than Dooley, she seemed wiser, more mature, more settled into her skin.
“Sounds like good medicine for my doctor,” said Father Tim. In all the years he’d known the earnest practitioner, Hoppy had taken only two vacations, one of them his honeymoon.
“Olivia bought him cowboy boots.”
“Aha!”
“But don’t tell,” said Lace. “It’s a secret.”
“Never!”
Though the conversation flowed smoothly enough, the tension in the room was palpable; he felt it somewhere around the region of his jaws, as if he’d clenched his teeth since their visitor arrived. There was no mistaking Lace’s cool indifference toward Dooley, and
“I do, thank you. And Jessie…”
“Yeah? I mean, yes, sir?”
“I’ve been meaning to tell you this for ages. You’re a lovely girl. We’re all proud of you.”
She caught her breath, considered his remark, then giggled. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. See you when we get back.”
“Hey,” said Dooley.
“Hey, yourself! Lace Harper’s dropping over at four o’clock. Cynthia made lemonade and pimiento cheese sandwiches. Want to come?”
Silence. Maybe he should throw in a plate of brownies. He could run to Sweet Stuff….
“Dooley?”
“I don’t know, I don’t think so.”
“It’ll take thirty minutes, maybe an hour, it won’t be a long visit.”
“I don’t think so.”
He observed his own silence. “Well, then. I’ll drive out to Meadowgate with you on Thursday morning, OK?”
“OK.”
“We love you, buddy.”
“Love you back.”
Click.
“He’s not coming,” said Father Tim, feeling oddly bereft.
His barefoot wife thumped onto the sofa beside him. “Want to bet?”
Perhaps he’d write an essay on the mystery of a woman’s ability to know and sense things beyond a man’s ken. At five ’til four, the front door opened and Dooley blew down the hall.
“Hey.”
He and Cynthia offered their family greeting in unison. “Hey, yourself!”
“I forgot something.”
“What?” asked Cynthia.
“My, umm, tennis shoes.”
“You’re wearing them.”
Dooley blushed. “Oh, right. I mean, no, not these. My old ones.”
“You outgrew them.”
Father Tim put his arm around his wife’s shoulder, hoping to distract her. She was a regular CIA agent, a storm trooper. “Cynthia…”
“I want them for…for Poo!” said Dooley.
“For Poo! What a great idea. Of course !”
“Of course!” said Father Tim. Quick thinking! Chalk one up for Dooley.
Dooley grinned, displaying sixteen hundred dollars’ worth of recent dental work, underwritten by Miss Sadie’s trust.
Handsome! thought Father Tim. Smart as a whip! The light of our lives!
His doctor was right. Lace Harper was…what had Hoppy said, exactly? Gorgeous. Slightly bucktoothed when he’d first encountered her stealing Miss Sadie’s ferns, Lace had obviously undergone dental work of her own. However, it was her eyes that engaged him. He’d remembered them as brown, but they were, in fact, amber, a startling, clear amber that gave this young woman great presence.
Dooley tried to sprawl on the study sofa, but, finding it impossible to appear nonchalant, returned to posing as ice sculpture.
“What will you be doing this summer?” his wife asked their guest.
“My friend Alicia invited me to visit her aunt in Martha’s Vineyard, but we’re going to take a family trip out West.”
He noted that Lace pronounced aunt like the Virginians, and not like Mitfordians, who comfortably used what sounded like ant and even aint.
“I love the West!” Cynthia said. “Where?”
“Hoppy’s great-grandfather had a ranch in Montana, so we’re going there, then we’re going to explore the Oregon Trail.” Lace smiled suddenly.
Father Tim thought her smile a miracle of healing; in the early years, her countenance had reflected only anger and the weight of a terrible sadness. Further, he thought her poise was nothing to be taken lightly. Though a year younger than Dooley, she seemed wiser, more mature, more settled into her skin.
“Sounds like good medicine for my doctor,” said Father Tim. In all the years he’d known the earnest practitioner, Hoppy had taken only two vacations, one of them his honeymoon.
“Olivia bought him cowboy boots.”
“Aha!”
“But don’t tell,” said Lace. “It’s a secret.”
“Never!”
Though the conversation flowed smoothly enough, the tension in the room was palpable; he felt it somewhere around the region of his jaws, as if he’d clenched his teeth since their visitor arrived. There was no mistaking Lace’s cool indifference toward Dooley, and
Similar Books
