"Looks like Casey's still up," she noted.

"And your mother, too."

"Tricia, too. She's taking care of Momma."

"You have to take her home?"

"Yes... and I'd better get going. It's a school night."

"Well..." he said, reaching for his door handle, looking back at her. "Thanks for the ride."

"Anytime."

They smiled at each other in the semidark while the half-moon shone in the back window and the

shadows of the trees patterned the garage roofs. There was no further reason to linger. They got out of the car, slammed the doors and stood in the warm night on either side of the Z.

"Good night," he said over the car roof.

"Good night."

It took a while before either of them moved. He finally turned and walked across the alley slowly, and she watched him become a black cutout against his distant porch light.

"Hey, Kenny?" she called, wishing to detain him awhile longer. He turned, stopped. She could tell he really didn't want to go in the house yet. "I really did enjoy talking with you tonight."

"I enjoyed it, too."

"Especially the stuff about my dad. Thanks for that."

"No need to thank me. He was a part of my childhood, too."

"In Nashville all my friends are music related. Seems like all we talk about is music. But back here it's... well, it's good to reminisce a little."

"Yes, well..." He thought of how much she'd changed in these few short days at home, and how much his opinion of her had changed as well. He wondered what her reaction would be if he simply walked back to her side of the alley and kissed her. But it struck him afresh who she was, and who he was, and that he was on his way inside to call Faith and say good night.

"Good night again," he called, doing the right thing. "See you Sunday."

"Yeah, see you Sunday."

After Tess had taken Tricia home and prepared for bed she turned out the light and stood for a few minutes at the window overlooking the backyard. Across the alley one upstairs light was on in the bedroom that used to be his when he was a child. Did he still use that room? Or was it Casey's now? What was the point of wondering? Yet she did, even after she got into bed and lay in the dark going over this evening and how very, very enjoyable it had been. Singing with him, driving with him, petting the horse with him, talking about the old days. It was true what she'd told him when he was walking back to his house, every friend she had now was somehow connected to the music industry. None of them had known her as a child, none could share recollections of her past, yet Kenny even remembered her father. How precious his story had been and how very connected it made her feel, as if this place would always be here for her, with its living family as well as its dead. This then was nostalgia making its impact, and in her lucid moments she realized it was temporary and would fade as soon as she returned to Nashville. But in her less guarded moments, it-and Kenny Kronek, too-made her question where she belonged.

In the bright light of morning she knew exactly where she belonged. The daily express packet arrived from Kelly Mendoza and it was back to business, in between housekeeping duties. She called Jack Greaves and told him, "I'm going to ask Casey Kronek to sing backup on 'Small Town Girl.' Okay with you?"

"I think your voices are a perfect blend."

"Thanks, Jack. This means a lot to me."

"Not nearly as much as it means to Casey Kronek, I'll bet."

"Listen, put it on the schedule for the first week of June."

"Will do."

She went to find Mary and tell her. Mary was resting in bed with her eyes closed and a cup of coffee balanced on her stomach, as if she'd just dozed off. As Tess stopped in the doorway a floorboard creaked and Mary awakened with a start. Her hands jerked and the coffee sloshed onto the sheets.

"Oh, Tess... oh, dear, look what I've done. The sheets."

"That's okay, Momma, I can change them." She went in and took the cup from Mary, setting it aside. "I came to tell you something exciting."

"What's that?"

"I'm going to ask Casey to sing backup on the song we wrote together."

"You mean on the real record?"

She no longer tried to correct Mary when she referred to tapes and CDs as records. "Yes. I just talked to Jack about it."

"But Kenny isn't going to like it."

"I got his permission last night."

"You did?"

"I wouldn't ask Casey without it."

Mary thought a moment. "Well, in that case then, my, this is going to be something, isn't it? Casey's going to flip when you tell her."

"You know what. Momma?" Tess sat on the edge of the bed with the air of a girl sharing confidences. "It's really exciting to find somebody with talent like hers, and to be able to give her a start. And everything's so perfect, the two of us having written the song together; the old, established star taking the young one under her wing when we're both from the same small town. It'll make great press, and besides that, Casey and I are going to have fun together, I can tell."

Mary squeezed the back of Tess's hand. "It's real nice of you to do this for her, honey."

"I think I'm going to get as much out of it as she is."

It was one of the more contented moments Tess had shared with Mary since coming home. They sat holding hands for a moment, enjoying each other while Tess mused, "Maybe someday we'll be in concert together and you can come and hear us both."

"Wouldn't that be something."

Mary had been to several of Tess's concerts during her career, but the plane rides were getting harder on her. She hadn't heard Tess live in six years.

"Well..." Tess said, realizing there were things to do. "Better get these sheets in the washer, huh? Up and out of there, Momma, unless you want to get thrown in with them."

The rapport between them was too good to last. A half hour later when the sheets were washed, Tess went downstairs and put them in the dryer. She came back up to find Mary waiting in the kitchen with her walker.

"You didn't throw them in the dryer, did you?" she said anxiously as Tess came around the corner. Tess halted, nonplussed. "Well... yes... I did." "Sheets get wrinkled in the dryer. I want them hung on the line." "What will it hurt this once?" "I never put my sheets in the dryer." "Momma," Tess said, exasperated. "They smell stale and the hems get all crinkled up." "I dried them in the dryer on Saturday." "I know, and they were all wrinkled. Hang them outside." Tess's mouth took on a stubborn set. "I don't know how." "Well, it's time you learn." Tess wanted to shout, "Why? It's an obsolete method and I'll never use it again!" "Besides," Mary added, "there's no sense burning up electricity on a nice day like this." Tess would have gladly paid the damned electric bill, but saying so would only prolong the argument.

Mary turned away and stumped to a high kitchen stool, ordering, "Put them in the clothes basket and

bring them up here and I'll show you how." Tess stomped back downstairs, the affable mood of earlier soured. In Nashville she had a housekeeper who took care of laundry for her, yet here she was doing it for her mother, and she thought she was doing pretty well, considering her lack of experience. Couldn't Mary accept things done just a little differently for the two and a half weeks that were left?

Mary was sitting on the stool waiting to deliver the useless instructions when Tess brought the laundry basket up and dropped it down beside her, then stood there with her mouth puckered like a dried mushroom. Mary stretched the edges of the sheets, got them doubled together and gathered into three peaks. "Here, hold it this way. It's all ready for the clothespins. Then just do the second one the same way, only match the four corner seams."

Outside, the first sheet went up with no trouble. The second one-the fitted one-was like wrestling a python. It was midmorning and Tess hoped to God nobody was home at Kenny's house watching out the window while she made a nincompoop of herself. Around here there were probably women who still didn't own an electric dryer, while she didn't even know how to hang a sheet.

She was in a full-fledged snit by the time she finished and clumped back to the house. Mary had been watching through the window and said, "You stick the corners together first, and then hang them." Tess wanted to shout, "When I get out of here I'm never going to hang another sheet for the rest of my life, so bug off, Mother!" She bit her tongue instead and decided the best way to handle her anger was to get out of the house for a while.

"I'm going up to Stillman's Market. What do you want for supper?"

"Well, we haven't had beef roast in quite a while. That's easy."

Fatty beef roast. What else had she expected?

Tess swung by Renee's house hoping to unload some of her pent-up frustrations, but Renee was

distracted by wedding preparations and her phone kept ringing. Finally Tess left, and on her way out the door Renee gave her a hug, and said, "She doesn't mean to get on your nerves so badly. It's just that she's not used to having other people around doing things their way. She's lived alone a long time."

"I know," Tess conceded, and though her visit with Renee had been brief, it had helped.

A short while later she was selecting green grapes at Stillman's Market when she turned around and collided with a shopping cart. "Oh, excuse me." "Tess?" a familiar voice said. "Oh, my gosh, it's you! I heard you were back!"' "Mindy Alverson!" "It's Mindy Petroski now." "Mindy Petroski, of course, I knew that, but you'll always be Alverson to me. It is so good to see you!" They hugged hard and rocked like bell buoys, bumping their shopping carts together and making them chime. Finally Mindy gripped Tess's arms and set her back to get a better look.

"Hey, you look fabulous, Tess!"

"So do you." Mindy was still dishwater blond, still wearing jeans, still needed heavier tweezing between

the eyebrows. Her hips had spread and her breasts had drooped, but she didn't seem to care. "Momma says you live here now, and you and your husband own the appliance store."

"Right around the corner from the town square where Moore's Plumbing used to be."

"Oh, sure, I know where that is. And you have kids."

"Three." Mindy stretched out her T-shirt. It said, Moms Rule When Their Kids Let Them.

They stood in the aisle catching up. Mindy's parents had sold the house and lived out on Lake Wappapello. Her husband liked to fish, so they spent a lot of time out there. Of the classmates from high school only a couple lived around here anymore.

"Speaking of kids from high school though," Mindy said, "it's all over town that you've been singing with Kenny Kronek's church choir."

"News travels fast."

"When it's about Wintergreen's most famous graduate, of course it does."

"How did you find out?"

"We play bridge with Kenny and Faith."

"Ah, Kenny and Faith. So you're good friends with them."

"Pretty good. He does the taxes for our business, and he and I have worked on a couple of civic committees together. Kenny's one of those guys who takes on the volunteer duties that nobody else wants to do. That's how he became the choir director."

"So I've heard."

"If you need somebody to organize a Fourth of July parade, or a Lion's Club pancake breakfast, all you have to do is ask Kenny. He knows everybody in town."

"Surprising how people change after high school."

"Oh, Tess, remember how mean we used to be to him? Weren't we just awful?"

"I guess we were."

"And he's such a nice man, really he is."

"My mother certainly thinks so. He's over there helping her all the time."

"Sounds like Kenny."

Tess put some watermelon into her cart and asked, "So how does Faith fit into the picture?"

"Faith? Oh, they've been going together forever."

"Funny they don't marry."

"I think he got stung pretty badly the first time-you know about his wife walking out on him?"

"Yes, I've heard."

"My guess is he'll never get married again, not to Faith or anybody else."

They visited awhile longer, and though Tess was infinitely curious about the degree of intimacy between Kenny and Faith, she could hardly inquire about it in the aisle of the supermarket without starting the whole town talking. Furthermore, it was none of her business. If Kenny had wanted her to know, he would have answered her last night. Instead, he'd cut her off and changed the subject. When she said good-bye to Mindy, Mindy said, "You'll still be here for the wedding, won't you?"

"You mean Rachel and Brent's? Of course."

"Great! Well, we'll see you there."

And so Tess got a new take on Kenny Kronek. He was liked, respected, even praised by the townspeople, and no-body seemed to think it odd that he'd never married Faith Oxbury.