should dig up Duncanâs number, cancel. Agreeing to the thirty-minute drink had been a moment of weakness anywayâthat damn dimple. Hadnât she thought of a dozen other things she could do with thirty minutes on the ride home?
A bubble bath. Yoga. Give herself a facial. Clean out the junk drawer in her desk.
All were a better use of her time. But a deal was a deal.
Carly sprinted into the foyer to take a flying leap into Phoebeâs arms. No outside irritations could stand up against a Carly hug.
âYouâve been in Granâs perfume.â To make Carly giggle she sniffed elaborately at her daughterâs neck.
âShe let me have a spritz. Dinnerâs all ready, and I finished my homework.â Leaning back, Carly beamed into her motherâs face. âYou get to be excused from doing the dishes tonight.â
âWow. How come I rate?â
âSo you can get ready for your date. Come on!â Wiggling down, Carly took Phoebeâs hand to drag her toward the dining room. âGran thinks you should wear your blue sweater, and Ava thinks the white blouse that ties in the back. But I think you should wear your green dress.â
âThe green dress isnât really the thing for a quick evening meeting.â
âBut you look so pretty in it.â
âShe should save it,â Ava commented as Carly dragged Phoebe in. âFor when he takes her out to dinner. Sit right down, itâs all ready. We wanted to give you plenty of time to primp.â
âItâs a drink. Itâs only a drink in an Irish pub.â
Ava set her hands on her hips. âExcuse me? Tonight you represent every dateless woman in this city, every woman whoâs about to sit down to a lonely meal of Weight Watchers pasta primavera sheâs just nuked in the microwave. Every woman whoâll get into bed tonight with a book or reruns of Sex and the City as her only companion. You,â she said, pointing her finger at Phoebe, âare our shining hope.â
âOh God.â
Essie patted Phoebeâs shoulder before she sat down. âBut no pressure.â
Â
She didnât want to be a shining hope. But she got on the bus. She had to refuse Avaâs offer of her car three times, and disappoint Carly by choosing a black sweater and jeans over the green dress. But she put on the earrings her daughter picked out, and redid her makeup.
Life, Phoebe knew, was full of compromises.
She got a wolf whistle from Johnnie Porterâall of fifteen and full of sassâas he circled her on his bike.
âYou sure look pretty tonight, Miz Mac Namara. Got a hot date?â
Now she worried she looked as if she were expecting a hot date. âWhy, thank you, Johnnie, but no. Iâm off to catch a CAT.â
âYou going somewhere, you can just hop on here with me.â He popped a little show-off wheelie. âIâll give you a ride.â
âThatâs neighborly of you, but I believe Iâll stick with the bus. Howâs your mama?â
âOh, sheâs fine. Sheâs got Aunt Susie over.â Johnnie rolled his eyes elaborately on his next circle. âTalking about my cousin Julietâs wedding. So I lit out. Sure you donât want to boost on up on my handlebars?â
How a fifteen-year-old boy could turn that into a sexual innuendo was puzzling. âIâm sure.â
âSee you later, then.â
Off to find some trouble, Phoebe thought with a shake of her head as he zipped down the wide sidewalk. God help the neighborhood when he was old enough to drive.
It was just cool enough she was grateful for the sweater as she walked from the bus stop along East River Street. Plenty of others enjoyed the evening and the stroll, wandering in or out of restaurants and clubs, pausing to window-shop or just gaze out over the water.
So many couples, she thought, hand in hand, taking in that balmy air. Mama had a point, she supposed. It
Mary Beard, Keith Hopkins