The kitchen was crowded. Not everyone fit around the table. Kenny stood with his backside against the kitchen sink, and Tess stood with an arm propped against the living room archway. Sometimes, above the heads of the others, their gazes met, but they were careful not to be seen fixing on one another overly long. Conversations overlapped. The fourth pot of coffee got perked. The phone rang and Kenny was the closest so he reached over and answered it without asking permission. "Mary," he said, "it's Enid Copley. Do you want to talk?" "I don't think I can get over there," she said from the other side of the table. ' "What does she want?" He asked Enid what she wanted and reported, "Just wants to see if you're home yet and how you're doing." "Tell her I'm doing okay and I'll call her tomorrow. Tell her all you kids are here." When he'd hung up he refilled his cup, crossed his ankles and resumed his pose. As he settled back against the cabinets, his eyes met Tess's and this time they stayed. She had been watching him answer her mother's phone and refill his cup just as any of the others might have done. It struck her full force how he dovetailed into her family-not just into Mary's life, but into that of her extended family-with the nonchalance of one who need not think about it because his acceptance there is taken for granted. He knew them all, had known them for years. He liked them all and they all liked him. "Tell her all you kids are here," Mary had said, as if he were actually one of her own.

A little while later, he set down his empty cup and maneuvered through the thicket of chairs on his way to the bathroom. Tess was still leaning against the archway, blocking the way.

" 'Scuse me," he said, as he edged by her. She stepped back to make room for him, and he went through. When he returned a minute later, he stopped right behind her and she had the distinct impression he'd gone to the bathroom to get himself near her as unobtrusively as possible.

She glanced back over her shoulder and inquired quietly, "Where's Casey this afternoon?"-the first words she'd spoken directly to him since he'd been in the house.

"Out riding her horse."

With everybody else continuing to chatter in the kitchen their conversation went unnoticed.

"Horses and music," Tess observed, "those are her two big things."

"You've got that right."

He told her about the conversation he'd had with Casey about keeping her horse after she graduated, and asked, "Do you still ride?"

"I don't have time anymore. Lots of people around Nashville own horses, but not me. I live in town."

"Maybe you'd like to ride with Casey sometime while you're here."

"I thought she just had one horse."

"She does, but she boards him out at Dexter Hickey's place, and Dexter's got enough of his own that

they always need exercising. We can ride them whenever we want."

"Sounds tempting. Maybe when Momma gets more steady on her feet. Speaking of Momma..." She turned her back against the archway and crossed her arms, facing him. "I hear you went up to visit her again last night."

"Well..." His quick downward glance telegraphed modesty. "It was on our way to dinner." She had noticed before how he downplayed anything he did for Mary.

"Still, you stopped by." She paused before adding, "I guess I've never properly thanked you for all you've done for her."

"No thanks necessary. Mary's a great gal." He smiled at Mary through the archway, but she was busy enjoying her family.

"Faith's been awfully good to her, too."

"Yes... well... Faith is a good woman."

Of course Faith was a good woman. He wouldn't be tied up with her if she weren't. Tess knew that much by now. She couldn't stop herself from asking, "So where is Faith today?"

"At home. Sundays we save for ourselves."

So Kenny and Tess had cleared their consciences, hadn't they? Sunday was Kenny's day to do as he wished. It was his and Faith's agreement. They were still wrestling with the idea when the back screen door opened and Casey burst into the room, still in her riding clothes.

"Hey, ya'll!" she greeted. "What am I missing? Mary, you're home! Oh, cake! Yum! Judy, did you make this?"

"Pee-ew, girl do you stink!" Renee said. "Go take those boots off!"

Casey fit in as easily as Kenny did. She put her boots on the back step, helped herself to cake and stood stocking footed, eating it and visiting with the cousins. Stuffing the last bite into her mouth, she said, "Hey, Mac, can we do our song for these guys?"

"What song?" somebody said, and the next thing they knew they were all in the living room, Mary resting on the sofa with a pillow between her knees, the others sitting on the furniture and the floor. The only one who didn't come fully into the room was Judy, who lingered behind Kenny in the archway where it wouldn't be noticed if she failed to applaud.

Tess and Casey shared the piano bench with their backs to the group. But when they sang, everyone listened. And when they finished, everyone applauded. Except Judy. She had slipped away into the kitchen where she was cleaning up the cups and saucers. Kenny remained with his shoulder to the wall, arms crossed, but one forefinger lined his lower lip and the expression in his eyes was that of a man torn between celebration and suffocation as he watched and listened to Casey. He could hear, unquestionably, that his daughter had talent. But it would eventually take her down a road of which he disapproved, an eager disciple on the heels of her idol, of whom he was beginning to approve more and more.

When the song ended Tess sought his reaction first, glancing at him immediately, and in his frown she saw ahead to a time when all these undercurrents would become exposed and he would either blame or praise her for the part she'd played in Casey's future. There was more going on between them, too: there was this cat-and-mouse game they were playing with their unwanted attraction for each other, plus the words of the song itself, speaking about a woman reassessing her values and those of the people she loved.

Everyone started talking at once, the hubbub full of surprise and praise.

"Wow, that's good!" Packer said to Casey. "Are you gonna sing it with her?"

"I already did, on a demo tape."

"No, I mean like for real."

"No, she's got studio musicians who do that."

Kenny left the doorway and approached his daughter. He put a hand on her shoulder approvingly. "Is this what you've been working on behind your bedroom door when you were mad at me? Next thing I know I'll be hearing you on the radio." He hugged her. But he waited to say anything to Tess until he could do so away from other ears. All he said, quietly, was, "It's very good." Hardly effusive praise but it didn't need to be, for it erased the sting caused by Judy's flagrant jealousy.

When everyone left, the coffee cups and saucers were neatly washed and put away in the cupboards. The table was wiped off and the remaining wedge of German chocolate cake had been carried off by Judy when she went.

CHAPTER NINE.

When everyone was gone, Mary lay down on her bed to rest. Tess spent the time screening her fan mail and answering requests for autographed copies of her CDs. Every week at least a dozen fund-raisers wanted donations for their causes-city libraries, battered-women's shelters, schools and every disease research facility known to man. Most of them ran annual auctions, and Tess sent a signed CD to every single one that sent her a plea. Kelly had forwarded last week's fan mail all in one batch, along with a stock of CDs for Tess to sign, and a typed letter to the representative of each group. When she'd finished, she packed them all into a postal express box to return to Kelly, who would, in turn, send them on.

She also spent time answering special fan mail. Though she had fan clubs in all the major cities of America, each headed by a president in that town, and she had a person in her Nashville office who did nothing but coordinate fan club activities, there were some of her fans who sent special gifts that needed personal answers. Others requested inspirational messages for relatives with cancer, or accident victims, or people whose tragic life stories were spilled out in heartbreaking detail, along with requests for something spe-cial from Tess because "she's your greatest fan, and a note from you would mean more than anything else in the world to her."

Such requests could not be denied, but the sheer volume of them became a drain on her time that she sometimes resented. She understood: she was luckier than most. She was rich and healthy and blessed in a thousand ways. But the requests never stopped. Nor did people seem to understand the protocol of sending a stamped, self-addressed return envelope when they wanted a reply. Some didn't even understand that it was ridiculous to expect her to fulfill their wishes, which were sometimes ludicrous.

Today's packet of letters included one from a woman who came right out and stated that she couldn't afford to buy CDs and would Tess send her her last two? Another woman invited her to come down to Coral Gables, Florida, to sing at a retirement home because all the ladies there just loved Tess's records, and they would just love to meet her; twelve letter writers wanted to know how she got started; two asked for the name of her agent; several wanted to know where they could buy Tess's past albums (had they never heard of asking in a record store?). One chewed her out for the lyrics on her new hit single, "Cattin'," because it condoned loose sex, which was immoral. An English teacher from Bloomer, Wisconsin, took her to task for all the double negatives in country lyrics in general.

There were, of course, many kind words in the fan mail, yet the negative ones left a longer-lasting aftertaste. It was just after Tess had been chewed out for the double negatives that Mary woke up complaining, "Why didn't you wake me? I missed the beginning of 60 Minutes. I never miss 60 Minutes ."

"Well, you didn't tell me, Momma. How was I supposed to know?"

Perhaps Tess would have been more patient with her if it hadn't happened at that particular moment.

When Mary was settled on the sofa in front of the TV, she added, "And suppertime was at six, too.

What are you making for supper?"

"Chicken breasts and rice."

"No potatoes?"

"No. Rice, I told you."

"But I always fix potatoes with chicken."

"This chicken is different. I marinated it and I'm going to broil it."

"It gets dry that way."

"Not if you don't overcook it."

"Broiling always makes it dry. I like mine fried."

"Mother, you don't fry marinated chicken, you broil it or grill it."

"Well, I don't have a grill, and besides, I never liked the flavor of charcoal anyway."

Tess sighed. Domesticity being her short suit, she was doing her best here.

"Do you want me to go to the store and buy you a piece of chicken so I can fry it?"

"The store's not open on Sunday night."

"Well, I could thaw one in the microwave then."

"Heavens, no. I wouldn't put you through all that trouble."

"But you just said-"

"No, I guess I'll have to eat mine however you're fixing yours."

But when Mary sat down to supper, distaste was written all over her face.

During the meal Tess attempted to broach the subject of Judy's jealousy and how it hurt her, but Mary said, "Don't be silly. Judy's not jealous. She was in the kitchen washing up the dishes while all the rest of us were having fun."

So that's how it went at mealtime, always disagreements about what Tess chose to put on the table, always differing opinions when they tried to talk. The yellowed plastic doily reappeared in the middle of the table and stayed. Tess couldn't believe her mother had retrieved it from the garbage, but there it was, looking as warped and discolored as ever.

Tess loved her mother, truly she did, but she was beginning to realize that as Mary aged she was becoming argumentative and persnickety about lots of things. She wanted to have her way. Maybe her hip was hurting, maybe she missed her privacy, maybe Tess wasn't the best cook in the world, but damn it, she was trying.

Starting on Monday they established a routine. Every day Tess helped her mother with physical therapy. Every day she watered the garden and fetched and carried, and did laundry and housecleaning and errands, none of which she enjoyed, and with much of which Mary found fault. Every day Kelly Mendoza sent an express packet that required Tess's attention, be it signatures, decisions, phone calls or simply reading. It became difficult to find a time when Tess could compose on the piano because during the mornings she was busy, and during the afternoons Mary watched soap operas on TV, and in the evenings there was prime time, followed by bedtime during which Tess hesitated to use the piano for fear of keeping Mary awake.

On Tuesday Jack Greaves called and said, "The new song is a winner and so is the other voice. Is it that high school girl's?"

"Yes. Her name is Casey Kronek. I thought you'd like her."

"So what's on your mind, Tess?"

"I'll let you know."

On Tuesday night choir practice started at seven-thirty. An hour beforehand, Tess bathed, washed her hair, spritzed Jean-Louis Scherrer eau de toilette on her neck and behind her knees, dressed in a denim skirt and white shirt, and hooked a pair of silver discs in her ears. Tricia had been commandeered into staying with her grandmother and arrived when Tess was putting the finishing touches on her makeup. She came and lounged against the bathroom door-way. "Wow, Aunt Tess," she said, "you look sensational."

"Thanks."

"Smell good, too."

"Some new perfume I just found last month."

Tricia watched as Tess finished outlining her lips with lip liner and began filling them in with a lipstick brush.

"Going to a lot of trouble just for choir practice, aren't you?"

Tess checked the results in the mirror. Her makeup was perfect, her lip line crisp. "It's about maintaining an image. People expect you to look a certain way when they see you out in public."

It wasn't about that at all. It was about impressing Kenny Kronek, though Tess wasn't exactly admitting that to herself yet.

She walked out of the house with fifteen minutes to spare and was halfway to the alley when the man himself came out of his own house heading in the same direction. They caught sight of each other and felt a connection that kept their footsteps brisk and their gazes locked as they continued toward their cars, which were both sitting out.

"Hiya," she said jauntily, reaching her Z.

"Hiya," he answered, reaching his Plymouth.

She felt spunky and a little flirtatious and decided to test out her wiles on him. "I'm goin' to choir practice, where you goin'?"

He caught her mood and squinted at the clear violet sky. "Full moon. Thought I'd go out and bite a couple necks."

"You all alone?"

"Yes, ma'am," he drawled, opening his car door.

"Where's Casey?"

"Gone already. She picks up Brenda and Amy on the way." Those were the girls Tess had met after church on Sunday.

"Shame to take two cars when we're both going the same way. Wanna ride with me?"

He slammed his car door and crossed the alley. "You bet."