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  “Your mother mentioned it.”

  “I know. She thinks it’s so cute when she trots these little stories out and maybe it is, if you haven’t heard them all a thousand times.” She cracked a couple of peanuts together, dug out the nuts. “And I swear to God, in every story she tells, Viv is the innocent victim of my maliciousness. When Viv and Ray got married, I’d just been sent overseas—my first foreign assignment. Even though things had been kind of strained between us, I booked a flight to come back. Then one of the senior correspondents dropped dead of a heart attack and there was no one else to fill in for him, so I canceled my trip. Viv accused me of sulking.”

  “Do you think Viv’s envious of you?”

  “My mother thinks so. Although Maude can’t understand why Viv would envy me since Viv has a husband and children and I don’t.”

  “That’s your mother’s generation, though. Women weren’t fulfilled until they were married and pregnant. My mother used to nag my sister, Sophia, about the same thing. She left Sophia with a huge burden of guilt for not providing grandchildren.”

  “Your sister’s never wanted children?”

  “So she says. In fact, we were just talking about it the other day.” He stirred the peanuts in the bowl and took a handful. “In relation to you, actually.”

  “Do I want to know?”

  “Do you?”

  “I don’t know. I think the whole thing with Mom tonight only confirms how much I want to put vast distances between myself and Little Hills. The longer I’m here, the more…entangled I feel.”

  “That’s a no, I take it?”

  She laughed. “Yeah…I think so.”

  He regarded her for a moment and smiled. “Actually, Sophia said she’s never wanted children. Not all women are maternal, she says. And I should probably go.” He glanced at his watch. “I’ve got an early meeting tomorrow.”

  Edie drained her beer and they walked out of the Rat’s Nest and back up the hill to Maude’s. The porch light was on, but the living-room drapes had been pulled and the front of the house was in darkness. Peter reached for his keys and frowned at them for a moment. For a split second, she thought he might kiss her. She wanted him to as much as she hoped he wouldn’t try.

  “As long as your family has the power to hurt you—and, clearly, they do,” he said finally, “you might think about whether your determination to be anywhere but Little Hills is, in fact, a form of running away.”

  She hadn’t been expecting that. Her immediate inclination was to hit back with a sarcastic response. But she saw concern in his face and perhaps a touch of trepidation. Maybe he’d also expected her to strike back. “Thank you,” she said finally. “I’ll give that some thought.”

  “Good night, Edie.” He leaned forward to kiss her cheek. “I still think you’re wonderful.”

  AFTER HE LEFT he drove back home, kissed his sleeping daughters, undressed and went to bed. He switched off the bedside light, closed his eyes and tried to sleep. His brain had other ideas. It lighted on Edie and essentially refused to budge. Edie, Edie, Edie. In his head, he sounded like Cary Grant. Judy, Judy, Judy. What was that movie? Did Cary win Judy after all? He couldn’t remember. Maybe he’d never even seen the movie. He couldn’t remember that, either. He punched the pillow, turned onto his stomach. Edie, Edie, Edie. He turned onto his back, stuck the pillow over his head. Edie, Edie, Edie. Edie, Edie, Edie, Edie, Edie. God, this was absurd. He sat up. Edie, Edie, Edie.

  He finally gave up, went downstairs and lay on the couch, where a tedious journal article eventually did the trick. Sophia found him asleep there the next morning.

  “An enjoyable evening?” she inquired.

  Peter sat up, bleary-eyed and groggy. “Fine.”

  “Do anything fun?”

  “I had dinner,” he said. “With someone’s elderly mother.”

  “I see.” Sophia folded a sweater one of the girls had tossed on a chair. “And did this someone join you?”

  “Yes.”

  “The someone being this foreign correspondent?”

  “Yes. Edie. That’s her name.” He stretched and yawned. “And now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to get the girls up.” A moment later, halfway up the stairs, he decided that he might as well get it over with, and he ran back down to tell her that he would be taking his daughters to Maude’s that afternoon.

  “Just a thought,” Sophia said later as he was getting ready to leave for school. “If there’s no future with this foreign correspondent—”

  “Edie.” He stuffed papers into his briefcase. His brain, still yammering on about Edie, was starting to irritate him. Until later this afternoon, when he picked up the girls to go to Maude’s, he wanted to think about nothing but school matters. Down on his hands and knees, he peered under the couch for the journal he’d dozed off reading last night.

  “Peter.”

  “Sorry.” He retrieved the journal, stood and brushed carpet fluff from his pants. “You were saying…”

  “Asking. Specifically, why, if there’s no future with this woman, are you involving the girls?”

  Peter felt a surge of impatience. It was difficult enough to sort out his own feelings for Edie, much less provide Sophia with an ongoing narrative. “Sophia, the girls are going, primarily, to help weed an elderly woman’s garden. Maude is looking forward to meeting them and I think they’ll like her very much. She’ll be a grandmother of sorts.”

  She folded her arms across her chest. Her expression suggested he’d just tried to sell her a dubious bill of goods. “And Edie?”

  He grabbed his briefcase. “What about Edie? Oh, you’re wondering whether she’ll be there? I honestly haven’t the foggiest idea.”

  “NO OFFENSE, Peter, but you look…tired,” Beth Herman said when she stopped by his office with a tin of gingerbread. “Is something wrong? How are the girls? I’ve almost finished Delphina’s wings, by the way.” She smiled. “They’re darling. I think she’ll be thrilled.”

  “I’m sure she will, Beth,” he said. Beth, it occurred to him—not for the first time—was one of those sweetly sympathetic listeners who seemed put on earth to become confidantes. “You’re very kind. And the girls are fine. We’re all fine.” Other than the fact that I’m besotted with a completely inappropriate woman. On the verge of soliciting Beth’s advice, he decided that a heart-to-heart with a teacher about the agonies of unrequited love would be inappropriate and unseemly, no matter how sympathetic the listener.

  After Beth left, he stopped by Betty Jean’s desk.

  “It’s possible that Edie Robinson might call.” He scratched the back of his neck. “She’s advising me on a journalism group. If she should call, please—”

  “Put her through immediately.” Betty Jean smiled. “You already told me.”

  “Did I?”

  “You did.”

  “And if I’m not in my office—”

  “I’ll find you. Take your cell phone.”

  He looked at her blankly. “Cell phone. Oh right. Good idea.”

  Betty Jean gazed at him so searchingly that he glanced down at himself, worried for a moment that he’d left his fly undone. No. All zipped up. Edie, Edie. His brain was at it again. He ran his hand across his face. Edie.

  “Are you okay, Mr. Darling? You’re not coming down with that flu that’s going around?”

  “No, no, fine.” The phone on her desk rang and he waited for her to announce that it was Edie. He had willed Edie to call and tell him she thought he was wonderful, too, that she was tired of being a foreign correspondent and had been joking when she’d made the foreign-language remark about children. I love children, he was willing her to say. The other secretary had picked up the phone. He waited. It did not appear to be Edie. “I don’t care who else has blue hair,” the secretary was saying. “I don’t care if the Pope has blue hair. You are not dying your hair blue. And don’t call me at work with this stuff.” She slammed down the phone.

  It wasn’t Edie.
<
br />   “I’m going to make a new pot of coffee.” Betty Jean was out from behind her desk. “You look like you could use some, Mr. Darling.”

  The intercom buzzed. “She didn’t give me her name,” Betty Jean said. “But I think this may be the call you’ve been waiting for. I’ll put her through.”

  He picked up the phone. “Edie?”

  “Vivian.” She laughed. “Our voices sound just the same, huh? I hear that all the time. Or I used to, when Edie was around more.”

  She said something else, but for a moment Peter was so disconcerted that the caller wasn’t Edie that he missed it. “Sorry. You said…”

  “I said I’m having a little surprise birthday party for Beth Herman. I’d have asked Ray to put the word out, but I was scared it might get back to Beth that way. Sunday night. I know it’s short notice but…” She sighed. “I’m naturally trying to do a million and one things and that seemed to be the only date that worked.”

  “Right.” Peter made a note on his calendar. “May I bring my daughters?”

  Vivian hesitated. “Oh wow, now I’m in a spot. It’s not going to be that kind of party. Now the boys are older, my house isn’t exactly child-friendly…”

  Peter tuned out the rest of her explanation. He didn’t really care, except to wonder if Edie’s antichildren bias was genetic.

  “I’m just trying to get a rough idea of how many will be there,” Vivian was saying now. “And, I wondered if you would be bringing a date?”

  “No,” he said. “But I’m not entirely sure I can be there, Vivian. Can I let you know in a day or two?” Edie would be there. Wouldn’t she? He wanted to confirm that, but asking might seem a bit heavy-handed. But she’d surely be there and the thought lightened his mood. “Actually, put me down for probably. No, definitely…make that definitely.”

  He hung up the phone and beamed at Jennifer. “Sorry about that.”

  “Hey, don’t worry about it. Everything okay?”

  “Everything’s fine,” he said. “Now where were we? ‘Conflict resolution,’ he read from his notes. “‘Anger management, peer and family relationships.’ Let’s talk a little bit about that…”

  THE DAY AFTER THE BEER with Peter—and the second time he’d told her she was wonderful—Edie drove Maude to the Kut ’n’ Kurl for her weekly shampoo and set, and decided on the spur of the moment that her own hair could do with a little attention.

  She sat in the chair, a black cape wrapped around her shoulders, and tried to avert her eyes from the face that stared back at her. No matter whether the place was a high-end salon or the local clip joint, she always hated the way she looked in beauty-shop mirrors. It was one of the reasons she’d started pulling her hair back into a smooth and trouble-free knot that didn’t require constant visits to keep in shape.

  “So what are we looking at here?” Becky, her name in black on a pink plastic badge, lifted strands of hair. “Wow, it’s been a while, huh?” She looked at Edie in the mirror. “Your hair’s real dry and your ends look like a dog’s been chewing them.”

  “Doesn’t sound like good news.” Edie said. “What would you suggest?”

  “I’d say cut it all off.”

  “Yeah?”

  “Longer hair when you’re older…I’m not saying you’re old, I just mean—”

  Becky, who might be twenty-three, was blushing so furiously at the imagined insult that Edie wanted to put the girl out of her misery. “Don’t worry about it, okay?” Edie said. “Tell you what, go ahead and cut it. I’m overdue for a change.”

  “WOW,” Viv said when she dropped by later that afternoon to find her mother and sister both newly coiffed. “Look at you two. What’s the deal, you both have hot dates?”

  Maude, at the stove, patted her sparkling white hair. “Peter’s bringing the girls over. We’re all going to work in the yard. I’m making a pineapple-upside-down cake. Haven’t made one for years. Edie? D’you use up all the eggs?”

  “There’s a whole carton in the fridge, Mom.” Edie got up to find them and glanced at Viv, who had just poured coffee into a dark green mug, every movement so elaborately casual that she must be gearing up for an assault. Edie braced herself. The last time they’d talked, Viv had hung up on her. The time before, she’d hung up on Viv. She’d tried to follow up on Beth’s concerns, but Viv had been too busy. Ditto the issue of Maude’s still unresolved long-term living arrangements. The time was, amazingly, flying by. Another fight with Viv would help nobody. “Look.” She showed Maude the carton of eggs. “Plenty.”

  “Edie.” Vivian set her coffee mug down and lifted Tinkerbell from the counter where he was lapping daintily at some spilled cream. “God, that is so disgusting. Out.” She threw open the back door and nudged the cat out with her foot. “Cats.”

  “Actually, I’m growing quite fond of them,” Edie said. “They’re really quite entertaining.”

  “You’re nuts.” She sat down. “Listen, Edie, I know nothing I say to you is going to make a difference. When has it ever? But you’re starting up all these things, then you’ll leave everyone else to pick up the pieces. It really isn’t fair.”

  “By things, you mean…Mom’s volunteer work.”

  “Well, that’s one, but there—”

  “Okay, but let’s deal with that first.” She glanced at Maude, who was pouring batter into a pan. She thought about bringing her into the discussion, then decided against it. One, she didn’t have the patience to deal with Maude and Viv and, two, since Maude loved working at the teen mother center, this was really Viv’s problem. “What do you object to about her spending a couple of hours a week at the center?”

  “Don’t say it like that, Edie. You make me sound like some kind of monster. It’s not that I mind Mom going to the school. I’m sure it’s good for her to get out. It’s just that it’s one more responsibility for me. You’ll leave and I’ll have to drive her—”

  “Beth has already offered to drive her. She doesn’t mind at all.”

  “When Mom goes to Maple Grove, it’ll be too far. And then guess who—”

  “Viv, we need to talk about Maple Grove. Ask her.” She nodded at Maude, now carefully setting a cake pan in the oven. “She doesn’t want to go.”

  “Shh.” Vivian frowned in Maude’s direction. “Let’s not get into that now.”

  “We need to. I want the issue resolved before I go.”

  “Why? I can take care of it, Edie. I could have taken care of it without you. You wanted to come here and we’re all tickled you did, of course, but it’s not like…well, you know what I mean.”

  Edie, looking at her sister across the table, was struck by the sudden suspicion that she might understand exactly what Vivian meant. Various scenarios were running through her mind and she didn’t like any of them. Looking over at Maude, she knew one thing with absolute certainty. Maude would not leave this house against her will, if it meant Edie stayed here to guarantee it.

  “Anyway,” she said. “What about all these other loose ends?”

  “Oh…” Viv shrugged. “Let’s drop them, okay? I don’t want us to end up mad at each other. Anyway, I have a little news. I’m having a surprise birthday party for Beth next Sunday night.” She sat back in her chair, drank some coffee and set the mug down. “I’ve already started calling people. I left it too late to send out invitations. You know me. Busy, busy, busy.” She smiled. “Peter’s coming.”

  “Good.” Edie nodded, affecting a nonchalance as phony as Viv’s casual tone. “Who else?”

  “Oh…all kinds of people. But Edie, he sounded thrilled when I told him the party was for Beth. I know you disagree with me, but I really, really think he likes Beth. When I asked him if he’d be bringing a date, he said, ‘No, I’ll be alone.’”

  Edie shrugged, the significance lost on her. “So?”

  “Well, Edie. I don’t think he’d be coming alone if he wasn’t secretly in love with Beth.”

  “BUT WHY DO WE HAVE TO DO this, Daddy?” Kate asked
as Peter drove slowly along Monroe looking for a parking spot near Maude’s house. “It doesn’t sound like fun.”

  “Not fun.” Abbie kicked the back of his seat. “I’m thirsty.”

  Natalie in the passenger seat turned to give them a warning look. “Behave,” she said. “You’re being brats.”

  Peter glanced in the rearview mirror. Delphina sat between the warring twins, her nose in a book, seemingly oblivious. He wanted Edie to be there, to open the front door and smile, and yet he didn’t. Edie would completely change the dynamics. He’d be watching her, observing any interaction with his daughters. The situation would be tense; it couldn’t be otherwise. With Maude alone, he could relax and enjoy the afternoon with his daughters. And yet, he thought as he pulled into a spot two doors down from Maude’s and parked, if Edie wasn’t there he’d be disappointed—he couldn’t help himself.

  They all piled out of the car. Natalie held Abbie’s hand. He took Kate’s. Delphina brought her book along. Maude’s house was a large two-story clapboard with peeling paint and a neglected front garden. As they trooped up three wooden steps and onto the wraparound front porch, he pictured Maude raising two daughters there and reflected on all the memories such a house must hold. It had to be a difficult decision to leave, he thought, recalling the conversation that day at the burger place. He could still see the angry flicker in Edie’s eyes, the equally fierce burn in Maude’s.

  He rang. They all waited. He rang again.

  “No one’s home,” Abbie said.

  “Let’s go,” Kate said.

  “Are you sure this is the right house, Daddy?” Natalie asked.

  He rang again. Moments passed and then he heard the sound of running footsteps, down the stairs and along the hall. Edie threw open the door, a polite smile barely covering an expression of angry impatience. She’d cut her hair. It quite changed her appearance.

  “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said. “I was working upstairs. I thought Mom would answer the door. Hi.” She tugged at the seat of her denim shorts, scratched the back of her calf with the toe of her bare foot, ran her fingers through her newly shorn hair and surveyed the girls. “Let me see if I remember your names.” She held her chin. “Nope. Forgot them all. Now you’ll have to tell me all over again.”