"Not much. But don't tell Dad I said so."

Tess laughed and said, "Oh, believe me, I won't."

"Their voices aren't so bad, but… I don't know. I'm probably not much of a judge. I just like to sing-country's my favorite, but it's not bad singing with the choir. It's not exactly a gig in a roadhouse, but it's singing, so I'm just glad Dad agreed to direct, otherwise we didn't know what we were going to do. You remember Mrs. Atherton?"

"Sure. Glasses, about so high, wavy black hair."

"Yeah, but it's gray now. She had bypass surgery, so I don't know if she'll ever come back and direct again."

"Hm, that's too bad." Tess got up and said, "Got some chicken poaching out here. I better go check it."

Casey followed her to the kitchen and leaned against the archway watching while Tess lifted the lid, poked the chicken breast and found it tender. She put the lid back on, turned off the burner and got her salad fixings out of the refrigerator. While she tossed them with dressing, Casey inquired, "Have you got somebody who does this stuff for you when you're at home in Nashville?"

"What? You mean cooking?"

"Yeah."

"I have a housekeeper, and she'll do it if I ask her, but on days when I'm recording we're in the studio from mid-afternoon till about nine at night or so, and midway through the session a caterer brings food in. On the night of a concert I usually wait till after the concert to eat. I don't like singing on a full stomach."

"What's it like, being up there in front of all those people? I mean, it must be so awesome."

"It's the only thing I ever wanted to do. I love it."

"Yeah, I know what you mean. I've been singing since I was about three years old. First to my dolls, then to my mom and dad, then to anybody who'd listen."

"You, too?" Tess put her food on the table and went to the silverware drawer. "When I was little I was the same way." She returned to the table with a fork and knife, and Casey pushed away from the doorway.

"Guess I'd better let you eat."

"No, listen, if you don't mind, neither do I. Sit down and talk."

"Really?"

"I only cooked one piece of chicken, but I've got a piece of pecan pie I can give you."

"Mary's?"

"You bet."

"Hey, that sounds great."

When Tess made a motion to get it, Casey ordered, "No, you sit down and eat. I'll get it myself." She knew right where to find a plate, fork and spatula. When the wedge of pie was served up she said, "Mary got any ice cream?"

"Sure. You know where."

Casey helped herself and brought her dessert to the table.

"So what kind of place do you live in, in Nashville?" she asked.

"I've got a house of my own, but I'm only there about half the time. The rest of the time I'm playing concert dates."

"Is it bad, being gone so much?"

"It was worse when I traveled by bus. It was like being marooned together, living in such close quarters with the same people day after day. There were times when I'd get sick of the bus, sick of the people, sick of trying to remember what town we were in so I wouldn't make a mistake on some radio station. But I must like it. I keep on doing it. And it's much nicer since I own my own plane."

"Your own plane… wow! Mary told us when you bought it. I was so impressed!" Tess chuckled at the girl's unbridled candor. "So tell me what it's like when you're recording," Casey prompted.

Tess was still telling her when Kenny's voice came from outside the back door. "Casey, what are you still doing here bothering her?" Dark had fallen and the kitchen lights were on. The way the door was situated he had to gaze in at an angle to see the table where the pair sat, but he got a clear enough shot by putting his face to the screen.

Tess leaned forward to peer at him around the far doorway. "She's no bother. I asked her to stay."

Casey said, "We're talking, Dad, that's all."

Uninvited, he stepped inside., into the tiny back entrance, a step lower than the kitchen. Pressing a hand on either side of the doorway, he poked his head into the room. "Casey, you come on, now. I told you to come straight back home."

"Can I finish my pie first?" she said with strained patience.

To Tess he said, "You sure she's not bothering you?"

"Let her finish."

"All right. Ten minutes," he replied, then pushed off the wall and disappeared.

When the screen door closed behind him, Casey said, "I don't know why he's breathing down my neck so bad today. He never does that."

Tess thought, I don't know why a man who's antagonistic toward me would bother to come clear across the alley in the dark to tell his daughter to get home when he could have used the phone.

"What does your dad do?" Tess asked.

"He's a CPA. He's got his own business downtown just off the square about three doors down from the dress shop where Faith works."

"Faith?"

"Faith Oxbury, his girlfriend."

"She the one who was over there having supper with you tonight?"

"Mm-hmm." Casey licked the ice cream off her spoon. "She's over most nights for supper. Either that or we're at her house. They've been going together since forever."

Tess wondered how long forever meant, but she wasn't going to ask. Casey finished licking off her spoon, set it down and pushed back her plate. Propping one heel on an empty chair seat underneath the table, she slouched down and let her spine curl. "Daddy and Faith have been going together so long that people kind of treat them like they're already married. They play bridge together, and get invited to parties together, and if there's anything of mine going on at school, she usually comes with Dad. Heck, she even sends out Christmas cards with all of our names on them."

"Then why don't they get married?"

"I don't know. I asked him once and he said it's because she's a Catholic and if she married a divorced man she couldn't receive the sacraments in her church anymore. But if you ask me that's a pretty lame excuse not to marry a man you've been going with for eight years."

"Eight years. That's a long time."

"You know it. And I'll tell you something else. They'd like me to think there's nothing below the waist going on between them-I mean, he pecks her on the cheek now and then, and they'll hold hands sometimes, but she never stays overnight at our house and he never stays overnight at hers. But if they think I buy that charlotte russe they're stupider than they think I am."

"Charlotte russe?"

"Oh, it's just this name I've given it-we made charlotte russe in home ec one time-anyway, that's what I call it, this little charade they play with me, like I'm still in the sixth grade. But nobody goes together that long without doing it." Casey brought her observations up short, then shot a straight look at Tess. "Do they?" she asked, as if suddenly uncertain.

"Don't ask me."

"Well I don't think so. But you know what? Underneath it all, I have to respect him for caring enough about my respect for him not to want to jeopardize it. So we all pretend they're as platonic as siblings and she comes over and fixes supper and stays till nine or so, then he walks her to the car and says good night. And on Thursdays they play bridge, and once a week she comes over and irons his white shirts because he doesn't like the fold lines from the laundry, and once a week he goes over there and cuts her grass. And on Sunday she goes to her church and he goes to ours. But at least we all get along. Faith is real nice to me." Casey paused and took a deep breath. "Well…" She dropped her foot to the floor and slapped her knees. "My ten minutes are up and I have to get home." She got up and took her dirty dishes to the sink, followed by Tess. When she'd run water onto her plate she turned and said, "Thanks for letting me hear your song in progress, and for the pie, and for letting me ask you questions. Sorry if I got nosy, but I couldn't help myself. Could I give you a hug?"

Tess had just set her own dishes down when she found herself hugged hard and hugging back. While she was in Casey's clutches the girl pulled in a noisy breath, and exclaimed, "Ooo, you're just super! And I've always been blown away by the fact that you grew up right over here across the alley and made it as big as you did. I want to be just like you!"

With that, the impetuous girl hit for the door. " 'Night, Mac. Tell Mary I'll be up to see her tomorrow afternoon!"

CHAPTER FIVE

On the day following Mary's surgery, Tess arrived at her bedside at midmorning and found she missed the company of her sisters, who failed to show up as promised. It was difficult watching her mother, whom she remembered as hale and hearty, now wearing support stockings, clinging to a walker and struggling to stand upright for a mere fifteen seconds.

Tess once again found herself sadly lacking in bedside technique. Without Judy and Renee, conversations with Mary tended to be brief and drift off into silences, or occasionally, run into brick walls. She told Mary about her visit from Casey, and how much she'd enjoyed the girl.

"She tells me she's sung with a band," Tess prompted.

"Yes, but I never heard them."

"Country?"

"I think so."

"She's got a really distinctive voice, a gruff contralto that sort of claws at you."

"Kenny made her quit doing that, though. He didn't like that bunch she was hanging around with, so don't encourage her."

"Kenny's got a real thing against country western singers, doesn't he?"

"Oh, Tess, are you still picking on him after all these years?"

That was one of the brick walls.

The day sent Tess's emotions vacillating.