"Miz Tiffany? She had her own people to clean, but I did for her now and then when she had a party or just needed another hand. She still living?"

"She is." And Phoebe relaxed again. The odd and delightful Mrs. Tiffany was much safer ground. "And as colorfully as ever."

"Was on her fourth husband when I did for her."

"She's had one more since, and I believe is currently on the prowl for number six."

"She always kept her name, didn't she? Tiffany, no matter how many she hooked down the aisle."

"Her second husband's name," Phoebe explained. "She stuck with that, however many came after, as she likes the sparkle of it. Or so she says." Bee's lips twitched. "Your cousin, as I recall, didn't have much truck with Miz Tiffany."

"Cousin Bess didn't have much truck with anyone. She was a… difficult woman."

"We are what we are. I'd see your mama now and again, enough to say how do you do, when I did for Miz Tidebar. You favor her."

"Some. My daughter more. Carly's the image of her grandmother."

"She must be a pretty girl. You tell your mama Bee Hector sends her best."

"I will. I think she'll enjoy the connection. She's very fond of Duncan."

"We're fond of him around here, too." Bee leaned in a little while the men continued to argue. "What're you going to do with that boy?"

"Duncan?" Maybe it was the wine, the steady beam from Bee's eyes, but Phoebe said what first came to mind. "I'm still deciding what I'm going to let him do with me."

Bee's laugh was an explosion of mirth. Her thick finger tapped Phoebe's shoulder. "He's brought other pretty girls around here."

"I expect he has."

"But he hasn't brought any of them around for my approval before today."

"Oh." Phoebe decided she could use another sip of wine. "Did I pass the audition?"

Bee smiled easily, then she thumped her hands on the table. "Y'all want pie and ice cream, we have to clear this table." Under the general scramble, Bee looked back at Phoebe. "Why don't you grab some of these dishes, haul them into the kitchen."

And that, Phoebe decided, made her by way of family.

She ended the evening necking with Duncan at her own front door. "I can't ask you in." More brain cells fried when he changed the angle of the kiss, spun it out. "Which, mmm, is a euphemism for not being able to go up to my room and get each other naked."

"When?" His hands glided up her, torturing them both. "Where?"

" I… I don't know. I'm not being difficult or coy. I hate that word.

Carly. My mother." She waved a hand toward the house. "It's all so complicated." "Have dinner with me. My place."

Her bones turned to mush as his lips trailed down her neck. Dinner at his place, now that was definitely code for sex.

Thank God.

"You're going to cook?"

"No, I want you to live. I'm going to order pizza."

"I like pizza fine."

"When?"

" I… I can't tomorrow. I have to-" She should think it through, of course. Be practical, be cautious. "Tuesday. Tuesday night. I'll drive over after shift. As long as-"

"There isn't somebody on a ledge, or holding hostages. I get it. Tuesday." He leaned back. "What do you like on your pizza?"

"Surprise me."

"Planning to. Night, Phoebe."

"Okay. Wait." She threw her arms around his neck again, dove headlong into the kiss until the need inside her edged toward actual pain. "Okay."

She went straight inside before she did something insane like pull his clothes off, then almost dreamily wound her way upstairs. The man could kiss her into a steamy puddle of lust. And, she had to admit, though she was eager for Tuesday night, this anticipation, this notquiteyet bumped up the pulse and warmed the belly.

If she'd felt this damn near giddy before over a man, she couldn't remember it-or him. That was saying something.

She heard the TV in the family room, and Carly's laughter. Not quite bedtime, she thought. And she wanted a moment, just a moment or two by herself before she took what must have been a dopey smile into the family room.

Because it was a pretty night, she opened her window. Soon enough, she thought, every window and door would be shut tight to hold in the air-conditioning and block out the steamy heat of Savannah in summer. She decided to change out of the sundress into her sleep clothes before joining her girls.

She was stripped down to her underwear when she heard the whistling. It drifted through the open window, brought a quick chill to her skin.

That tune. That same tune. The man with the camera.

It came to her, the memory, the image of the man standing alone on River Street. But it couldn't be the same man, could it? Compelled, she grabbed her robe, pulled it on. By the time she got to the terrace doors, wrenched them open to go out to look, the whistling had stopped.

No one strolled down the wide white sidewalk of Jones Street.

Chapter 14

Female voices-they always reminded Phoebe of happy birds chirped and trilled out of the kitchen as she headed in for coffee. Since she could hear Carly's voice, a kind of quick piping, she marveled a bit. That wasn't the usual Monday morning routine.

The kid liked school, she really did, but she rarely liked it on Monday morning.

But when she stepped into the fashion show, Phoebe understood why her little girl was in the happiest of moods. Nothing like a new sweater-or a new article of any kind of clothing-to put a smile on Carly's face.

The one she was currently modeling like a finalist on Project Runway was a pale, almost fragile blue. It looked like it was made from clouds, Phoebe thought, the way it simply wisped over shoulders and arms, swirled at the waist.

Doing a practiced pivot, Carly spotted her mother. "Look, Mama! Look what Gran made me!"

"It's gorgeous." Phoebe trailed a fingertip down one sleeve. Itfelt like a cloud. "You spoil her, Mama."

"My job to. But it's a sample. It's what I call market advertising. I'm going to do a few in adult sizes, but thought I'd start out small."

"Gran said she could make me a purse to match."

"Might as well surrender," Ava said under her breath as she handed Phoebe coffee. "You can't beat the two of them. How about a hot breakfast?"

"No, thanks. I'll just grab some toast."

"How about one of these instead?" Ava held out a basket filled with muffins. "I just made them this morning."

Phoebe took one, bit in. "And I talk about Carly getting spoiled.

Carly, let's get some breakfast into you now. I'll drop you off at school on my way to work."

"We're supposed to drive Poppy and Sherrilynn today, too."

"Right. I knew that." Somewhere, in the back of her mind. "I can haul them if it'd be easier for you," Ava offered.

"No, it's fine. Ah, listen, I was thinking about going out to dinner with Duncan tomorrow night, if that's not a problem."

Phoebe watched Ava and Essie exchange smug looks behind Carly's back as the girl dumped Frosted Flakes into a bowl.

"What?"

"Nothing." Essie offered the most innocent of smiles. "Of course it's not a problem. Not at all. Ava, I believe you owe me five dollars."

"You bet on…" Phoebe made herself zip it up because Carly's eyes were on her, and full of speculation.

"Is he your boyfriend now?"

"I'm too old for boyfriends."

"My third best friend Celene's mother has two boyfriends. Celene heard her say how she juggles them so the left hand isn't sure what the right hand's doing."

"Sooner or later your two hands get together and you end up with bruised knuckles. And that is not to be repeated," Phoebe added. "I'm just going out to dinner with a friend." And having sex, she thought. Probably a lot of really great sex.

Should she buy condoms? Surely he'd have condoms. God, something else to worry about.