"Drop the robe, sweets, or I'll tell your mother."
"That's mean."
"I am mean."
"Don't I know. I'm going to run away to Atlanta, get myself an apartment and leave no forwarding address." But Phoebe dropped the robe.
Sympathy shone in Josie's big brown eyes, but her voice was brisk. "Bruising's fading. The hip looks a lot better. That shoulder has to be painful yet."
"It's coming along."
"How's the range of motion?"
"I'm still grateful I've got some front-hook bras, but it's improving." Josie took Phoebe's hands, turned them over. If truth be told, those injuries hurt her heart more than the rest. "Wrist lacerations look pretty good."
"Bitching sore if you want the truth. Can I regain my modesty now?" Josie picked up the robe, helped Phoebe into it. "Any trouble with your vision in that eye?"
"No, it's clear. And before you ask, the headaches are fewer and less intense. I can poke at my jaw without feeling like I've drilled a spike through it and into my brain. All in all, not too bad."
"You're healing well. Helps that you're young and in excellent physical shape."
"I knew those damn Pilates were good for something. You didn't have to come by to check on me, Jo."
"You get the bonus round because I came early so Ava can teach me to bake lemon meringue pie. Which you know she's making because it's Dave's favorite. Why doesn't she just jump that man and get the ball rolling?"
"I wish I knew." Phoebe moved to her dresser for underwear. "In all these years it's the first time they've both been free at the same time. His divorce has been final for almost two years now. But they're both still playing just friends."
"We could set them up on a blind date. You know, you tell him you've got somebody, and I tell her, and we don't tell either the somebodies are each other. And then-"
"We both get our butts burned for meddling."
Josie pouted. "That's what Carter said when I tried the idea out on him. Well, I'm giving them six months more, then I'm risking my butt. Want me to help you get dressed?"
"I can handle it."
"Just between us now?" Josie watched Phoebe's range of motion as Phoebe eased into a shirt, and judged it improved. "How are you doing otherwise?"
"Okay. I know the symptoms of posttraumatic stress. I've had some unpleasant dreams. It's natural."
"It's also natural for stress to bottle up when you feel obligated to keep it inside and not upset the family."
"If I need to spew, I have my ways. Don't worry. I'm back on the job full-time next week. That helps me."
"Okay. Call if you need me."
To prove to herself as well as her family that things were approaching normal, Phoebe dressed with some care. The bold blue color of the shirt cheered her up enough to nudge her into taking some time with makeup. Then more time as she realized if she just kept blending, the bruises went from a shout to a murmur.
By the time she got downstairs, the kitchen was full of women cooking. It didn't hurt her feelings at all to be banished out to the courtyard and the sunshine with Carter and Carly.
"Mama!" Carly flew across the bricks. "I kicked Uncle Carter's butt at jacks."
"That's my girl."
"It's a sissy game."
"He says that when he loses," Carly announced. "Do you want to play the champ?"
"I don't think I'm up to sitting on the ground yet, baby. Give me another week, and we'll see whose butt gets kicked. You better practice."
"I'm going in for a drink, okay? Whipping Uncle Carter was thirsty work."
"Smart-mouth."
Carly grinned at her uncle and ran for the door. With a sigh, Phoebe sat on the circular bench around the courtyard's little fountain.
Here, she could not only see Ava's roses but smell them. She could hear the birds sing, and admire the tenacity of the thyme and chamomile that spread between the cracks of the pavers, the sweet faces of the violas that danced around a copper birdbath.
Here, with the brick walls and wrought-iron gates, Ava had created a personal sanctuary where shade dappled through moss onto benches and tea olives perfumed the air.
"God! It feels good to sit outside."
"Josie give you the thumbs-up?"
"Yeah, yeah."
He sat, slipped an arm around Phoebe's shoulders. "We get to worry about you. It's part of the package."
She leaned her head on his shoulder. "We all had a scare. It's over now."
"I remember how long it took me to get over being scared."
"Carter, you were just a little guy."
"That doesn't matter, and you know it. You looked after me. And you stood between me and Cousin Bess for years after."
"Old bitch. Which is mean and ungrateful, however true, when we're sitting here in her pretty courtyard while other people are baking pies and ham in the kitchen."
"It's Ava's courtyard," Carter said, and made Phoebe smile.
"Yes, it is. And really, even during the tyrant's reign, it was Ava's. Do you ever think how she was younger than we are now when she started working here? Barely twenty-two, wasn't she? And to have the spine to stick it out, to stand up to Cousin Bess."
"You had it at twelve," Carter reminded her. "And you're still looking after us. She knew you'd stay because Mama has to. She could've left Mama the house, after all Mama did for her, but she put it on you, with strings. Locked you in here."
There was no point in denying the truth, every word of truth. And still, it was too lovely a day for bitter old memories. "Locked me in this beautiful house, where my daughter thrives. It's not what we can call a sacrifice."
"It is. It always was. You let me walk away."
She took a firm grip on his hand. "Not very far. I don't think I could stand it if you went very far away."
He smiled, pressed his lips to her hair. "I'd miss you too much. But I'll tell you one thing, Phoebs, I never knew how much I needed to move out of this house until I did it. You never really had a chance."
"I had my time away." College, Quantico, my disaster of a marriage. "I'm happy to be back. I especially like being able to sit out here while three other women put Sunday dinner together."
"That's only because you're a lousy cook."
"Lousy's an exaggeration. I'm an unreliable cook."
"No, you're reliably lousy."
She laughed and poked him in the ribs. "You burn even the thought of food, so you're one to talk."
"That's why they invented takeout and delivery. You won't need to cook if you play your cards right with the rich guy. He's probably got a couple of chefs on staff."
"Listen to you." She gave him another, zestier poke. "Playing my cards. Plus, I don't think he actually has a staff." She frowned over that a moment. She didn't think he had one, but really, how would she know?
"I see he sent more flowers. Looked like a few thousand of them in the parlor."
"A couple dozen lilacs." That smelled so, so lovely. "He seems to be a man who likes to make gestures."
"I got the look from Josie when she saw them." Hissing out a breath, Carter narrowed his eyes at the kitchen windows. "Guys who make gestures make other guys make gestures, and now I'm going to have to remember to bring home flowers next week like I thought of it myself."
"You ought to think of it yourself. I have no sympathy for you."
"I brought her home her favorite panini and a cheap bottle of wine just a few days ago, and I ought to get credit for it. But I'm outdone by some forest of lilacs."
"You used the cheap wine to get lucky."
He grinned. "'Course I did. Well, megabucks aside, and having only met him once, I already like him more than I did Roy."