Rosie shook her head. “I’m not so sure about that.”

“Why? Don’t you think I’ve got what it takes?”

“Probably.” Rosie finished her shake and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “But you don’t know my dad. He’s stubborn.”

“I’m stubborner.”

Rosie dragged her pack into her lap. “My mom says my dad is like one of those big rocks off shore. Storms and surf beating at him all the time, and he just sits there and takes it.”

“Sounds boring. And annoying.”

“Tell me about it,” Rosie said. She grabbed the door handle and then paused to look back at Tess. “Have you won an argument with him yet?”

“Sure.”

The kid gave her a skeptical frown. “Really?”

“Of course.”

Tess set down her cup. There was an important point to be made here, and now that the kid was talking again, she wanted to keep the conversation on track. “But that’s not the point. He’s the exception to the rule, remember? Mémère’s philosophy is that looking for a fight all the time makes a person mean and petty. And in spite of what Jared Medvedev said, the fight I picked today ended up making me feel mean and petty and stupid. It made me lose my cool, which I really hate. Shrewish isn’t one of my better looks.”

Tess checked her reflection in the rearview mirror and fluffed her hair, waiting to see if the kid had anything to say.

Rosie toyed with the handle. “Do you ever wish you could stop fighting with him?”

“With your dad? If I quit, I wouldn’t know what to do with him. Confrontation is the basis of our relationship.”

Rosie slowly sank back against her seat and stared through the windshield. “Do you like him?”

“I do. In a narrowly defined version of the term ‘like,’ that is.”

“Even when you’re fighting with him?”

“Especially when I’m fighting with him.” Tess took a fortifying sip of her cooling latte. “Let me tell you something about your dad. Even when he’s just plain wrong and I want to bash in his pigheaded face, he’s still a pretty awesome guy. I’ll share this secret-and you have to swear you won’t tell him I said this, or I swear, I’ll kick your butt-I actually admire him.”

“Yeah, but, do you…” Rosie fingered the strap on her pack. “You know, do you like, like him?”

“You mean, the girl-guy kind of like?”

“Yeah.”

“Now there’s a loaded question,” Tess said. “With all sorts of answers, depending on the context. Don’t worry, kid,” she added when Rosie gave her the stink eye. “I’m not going to duck out on this, although I wish I hadn’t started it.”

She took a deep breath. “Yes, I find your dad extremely sexy.”

“Eeuww.”

“Hey,” Tess said. “You asked. If you don’t want to hear the answer, don’t ask the question.”

Rosie gave her a suspicious, sideways glance. “How come you’re talking to me like this?”

“Like what?”

“Telling me all this stuff.”

“Why wouldn’t I? If I don’t want to answer one of your questions, I’ll just tell you to mind your own business. It’s called conversation, kid, remember? People do it all the time.” She took another sip. “Besides, talking to you is kind of interesting. I wonder if you’d keep me interested past the first few dates.”

“Girls don’t go on dates.”

“Yes, they do. I go out on girl dates with my girlfriends all the time.” She took another sip. “What do you think this was?”

“You just picked me up from school.”

“Hey, we kicked some butt, we got some snacks. We’ve been stuck together in this car for half an hour.” Tess tilted her head back and drained the last of the coffee. “That’s longer than some of my dates have lasted.”

“Time for me to go.”

“Rosie.”

The kid climbed from the car and then turned to face her. “Yeah?”

“You’re not going to tell your dad I think he’s sexy, are you?”

“Puh-leeze.” Rosie rolled her eyes as she slammed the door.

Tess waited until she walked into her building. And then she leaned her head against her window and glanced at the figure staring down at her from the third floor. “She’s not so bad, Quinn. Fiesty, but I can relate.”

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

TESS PERCHED on a stool at the wide kitchen island at Chandler House late Saturday afternoon. With the sun peeking below the awning and Aretha on the radio, Tess was certain there were no problems in the world that couldn’t be solved with a plate of Julia’s snickerdoodles and a tall glass of ice-cold milk. She’d figured out the answers to plenty of life’s questions in this particular spot. So she was certain that if she concentrated hard enough-and ate enough cookies-she could figure out what to do about Quinn, too.

Not that she wanted to do anything about him except hold on tight and enjoy the ride for as long as it lasted. She’d had a week to calm down and think things through after her flight from his apartment, and now she knew what she wanted: an affair. With him. And since her usual method of handling an affair-comfortable boundaries and a casual distance-had worked every time in the past, she reassured herself it would probably work again this time. Boundaries would be important with Quinn.

Distance would be essential with his kid.

So now that she had things figured out, all neat and tidy, why was her stomach looping in knots, and why were so many cookie crumbs catching in her throat? She grabbed for her glass.

“What time did you say Miss Addie and that fool Charlie were getting here?” Julia rolled her marble pin across a sheet of pastry dough. “I want to get this pie in the oven before I head to town.”

Tess glanced at the clock fixed to the wall above the big steel-fronted refrigerators. “Any minute now. And why is Charlie a fool?”

“I’ve seen her beau. Any woman who would drag her feet about marrying a man like that needs her head examined.”

“She loves Jack. She just isn’t looking forward to getting dressed up and having everyone stare at her.” Both concepts were completely alien to Tess, but she’d stick up for Charlie because she was a loyal friend.

Loyal to a fault, as Mémère was fond of reminding her.

“Then they should have decided to elope,” Julia said.

“She suggested that, but Jack doesn’t want to sneak away. He says he wants plenty of witnesses so she can’t back out of the deal later.” Tess sipped her milk. “He also says he wants to watch her walk down the aisle to him.”

“With a scowl on her face, most likely.”

“Probably.” Tess smiled. “Definitely.” She set an elbow on the counter, rested her chin in her hand and sighed. “I think it’s romantic.”

“The words romantic and Charlie Keene don’t exactly match up too well, do they?” Julia asked.

Tess smiled around the rim of her glass as she finished her milk. She wondered if all these doubters-herself included-would dissolve in tears at the sight of Charlie in white, clutching a fistful of flowers.

Julia draped the pastry over one of her wide pie dishes and began to fill it with shaved apple slices. “It’s been too long since Miss Addie came around for a visit. I miss her.”

“Well, you’ll get to see both of them now.” Tess scooted off the stool at the sound of a car in the drive beyond the kitchen door. “They said they’d meet me here.”

Julia wiped her flour-dusted hands on her apron. “They’ll be wanting some of my cookies.”

“Why do you think they told me to meet them in the kitchen?”

A few moments later, Julia had her arms around “her girls” and was offering cookies and milk, just like old times.

Addie pulled out a stool next to Tess, and Charlie slouched against the island across from them. “Mmmm,” Charlie said as she bit into a snickerdoodle. “Let’s skip those fancy frosted cakes and have these at the wedding.”

“Snickerdoodles on the south lawn.” Julia shook her head as she slid her pie into the oven. “Miz Geneva would never recover.”