One More Time by Deborah Cooke

about not coming to the service later. It’s not something that you can rewind and do differently, and I expect there will a lot of people at your grandfather’s funeral.”
    “You mean Dad should come for the sake of appearances.” She curled her lip, looking suddenly a great deal like Matt when he had a truth-on. Mr. Tell-it-like-it-is.
    Could she really have been proud of him if he’d defended his client successfully? Leslie was shocked to realize that Matt was right. She hadn’t thought it through, hadn’t thought past her own burden of obligation, but he was right. She would have hated being married to someone like his brother, James, who was more concerned with winning than with a pesky detail like truth.
    She set down the spoon, seeing her own role in his departure, wondering how she could make this right.
    “Well?” Annette prompted.
    “Um, I mean that if he makes an unconventional choice, he needs to be absolutely sure that he won’t later regret it.” Leslie looked at Annette and, in the fading light, saw her wariness. It had probably been fed both by recent events and her choosing to sit with her out here. Leslie chose to push her daughter a little. “Why do you think I would worry about such a thing happening?”
    “Because you think of everything?”
    Leslie shook my head. “Nope. I never claimed that.”
    “Well, you didn’t have to. You’re the most organized person on the planet. You’re like one of those androids.”
    “Except androids don’t reproduce biologically, do they?”
    Annette studied Leslie for so long that Leslie thought she might not say anything. Finally, she did. “Okay, maybe you’re worried about it because you once didn’t do something that you later regretted.”
    “Bingo.” Leslie saluted Annette with her spoon. “The incisive Coxwell legal mind nails it. It’s in your genes, Annette. That alone proves you weren’t adopted.”
    “How come Daddy lost that big case yesterday?”
    Leslie frowned and considered the merits of her stainless steel tablespoon. It had, in fact, gathered a few stains in its lifetime of service, as well as a few dings and scratches. Kind of like herself. “He thought it was more honest,” she said slowly, appreciating the nobility of his decision. “He thought it was the right thing to do.”
    “Why?”
    “Because he didn’t think he could live with himself if the bad guy didn’t get what he deserved. Because he didn’t want the bad guy to get away with the bad things he’d done.”
    “And you don’t agree with him?”
    “I didn’t. I just wanted him to win.” Leslie admitted then shrugged. “I guess I just wished that I hadn’t been as surprised as everybody else.” The carton was empty and Leslie was getting cold. Apparently eating ice cream outside in the winter will lower one’s body temperature. Who knew?
    It sounded like something a mother should know though, didn’t it?
    Maybe she was a lousy mother, as well as a lousy wife. She stood up, uncomfortable with the part she had played in creating her own marital disaster.
    Annette meanwhile was looking as if her mother had suddenly been replaced by an alien, maybe a more interesting alien than she knew her mother to be.
    “Come on, let’s go inside,” Leslie said. “I’m getting cold and there’s no more ice cream anyway.”
    “I’ll just stay here.”
    Leslie paused at the door and looked back. “I’m going to get take-out tonight, but I don’t know what kind. If you want a vote, you’d better come in soon.” Annette hunkered down lower in her coat, clearly having no intention of moving. “Of course, if you don’t, you’ll just prove your grandmother right about ice cream spoiling your dinner. Maybe I’ll phone and tell her that. You know how she likes to be right.”
    No response. Leslie tipped her head back and considered the first stars. “Maybe I’ll just order a pizza from Macetti’s,” she said idly, fully expecting a reaction. “I mean,