High Noon Read Online Free PDF Page B

practically as rare. Who—”
    “And it’s not a date. Not really. The suicide I talked down yesterday? This is the man who he used to work for. He just wants to have a drink.”
    “Ava said it had to be dinner to count,” Carly reminded her.
    “He brought up dinner, we negotiated it to drinks. Just half an hour tomorrow.” She tapped Carly’s nose. “After your bedtime.”
    “Is he cute?” Ava demanded.
    The wine and the company had done its job. Phoebe flashed a grin. “Really cute. But I’m just meeting him for one drink. Over and out.”
    “Dating isn’t a terminal disease.”
    “Listen to who’s talking.” Phoebe forked up a bite of chicken and looked at her mother. “And listen to who’s not. Mama?”
    “I 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?”
    “I’m not entirely sure, not altogether sure.” She sipped more wine. “I guess I’ll find out tomorrow.”
     
    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.
    “Past your bedtime, my cutie.” Phoebe bent to kiss the tip of Carly’s nose.
    “Just a little bit past. Can I stay up until any-o’clock on Friday night?”
    “Hmm.” 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?”
    “That’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.”
    “I 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.”
    “Mama?” Carly said when Phoebe turned off the bedside lamp.
    “Yes, baby.”
    “Do 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?”
    “I asked you. ”
    “So you did.” And honesty was a linchpin of her relationship with her little girl. “No, sweetie, I don’t.”
    “Good.”
    “Carly—”
    “It’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.”
    “I 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.”
    “Looking isn’t shopping. We can just look and not buy anything.”
    “That’s what you always say. And River Street’ll be jammed with tourists on Saturday.”
    “Maybe we should just go to the mall then.”
    “You’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.”
    “I sure do love you. Mama, if I get A’s on my next three spelling tests, can I—”
    “Negotiations 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