"I was out riding my horse. How's Mary doin'?" She was dressed like a barrel racer who'd fallen on hard times-cuter than a bug's ear, with a loose blond French braid, a messy straw cowboy hat, faded shirt with pearl buttons, and blue jeans with enormous holes in the knees. When she advanced into the room, the smell of horses came with her.

"Pretty well, actually. The surgery went perfectly and she's been resting a lot."

"Well, hey! Sounds good!" She moved like an aging rodeo cowboy, with a graceless sway. "I don't believe we've ever met." She extended her hand to Tess. "I'm Casey Kronek. I live across the alley from your mom."

"Hello, Casey. I'm Tess."

"I know. Heck, everybody knows. I told my dad soon as I found out you were coming home, 'Hey, I

gotta meet her!' And, I gotta tell you, I'm excited to be shaking your hand at last. So your mom, she's doin' okay, huh?" "Just fine." "I don't suppose people can see her yet." "Tomorrow might be better. She's been sleeping a lot." "Well, that's just as well, 'cause I stink." Casey looked down at her sorry jeans and sorrier cowboy boots. Tess burst out laughing and said, "Yes, you do, actually." "I was going out to ride my horse and it wasn't that much farther over here, so I figured I'd just sidetrack a little and see how Mary's doing. Your mom's one fine old babe. She's always been like a grandma to me, and I feel bad that she's got to go through so much pain and misery to get her hips fixed up." Abruptly she turned to Judy. "So, I hear Tricia's going to the prom with Brandon Sikes."

"Yes, he finally asked her."

"Boy, he's cute! And nice, too."

"She thinks so, too."

"Is she going to college next fall?"

"She's been accepted at SEMo, plans to be an elementary teacher. How about you?"

"Oh, gosh no!" Casey held up both palms. "No college for me, thank you! I haven't got the brains for

that. Raising horses is more my style. Hey, Renee, we got the invitation to Rachel's wedding, and we'll be there for sure. It's pretty exciting, huh?"

"Yes, and not far off now. Less than a month."

"They gonna live here?"

"For a while."

"Bet you're relieved, huh? I mean, who'd want their kid to get married and then move off right away? I guess that'd be kind of a bummer."

"I'm glad they're staying, for a while anyway. You still singing with that little band?"

"Nope, we broke up. Couldn't find anyplace to get a gig around here, plus Dad said it was keeping me up too late at night and even if I didn't want to go to college, I had to finish high school. He said the band was getting in the way."

Renee turned to Tess. "Casey's just like you, Tess. Singing all the time."

"Shh!" Casey scolded. "She'll think I'm coming around here looking for her to help me get a break or something. She's prob'ly thinking, 'Help! Another one!' " Casey clasped her hands on her head, then dropped them. "I really just came to check on Mary, And to bring her this." She handed something to Renee. "It's a four-leaf clover. Found it out in the pasture. You give it to her and tell her Casey sends her love and I'll see her tomorrow or the next day, okay?"

"Sure will, Casey, and thanks for coming. She'll appreciate it, I know."

"Well..." Casey stood a minute longer, her index fingers hooked into the belt loops of her jeans. Abruptly she stuck out her hand to Tess. "Sure was nice to meet you, Miss McPhail... ah, Tess... Mac... I don't know for sure what to call you."

Tess could scarcely keep from wincing at the strength of the girl's handshake. Beyond her cute face, little about her was feminine, but it appeared she assumed the masculine body language on purpose.

"Around here everybody uses 'Tess'. Out there"-Tess gestured at the rest of the world-"it's Mac. Take your pick."

"Mac, then." Casey smiled and released Tess's hand, stepping back. "There is one thing I'd like to ask you if I could. Since we go to the Methodist church where your mom goes, and where you used to go-well, my dad directs the choir there and I heard you're going to be around for a while taking care of Mary, so do you think you could come and sing with us one Sunday? It'd really be awesome. I mean, just think of it-Tess McPhail and the Wintergreen First Methodist Church choir! We'd really have a packed house that day!"

The idea of standing in the choir loft and being directed by Kenny Kronek was about as appealing as chewing glass.

"Let me think about it, okay?"

"Sure. You think about it." Casey shrugged. "I suppose you get a hundred people a month asking you to do things for their groups-speeches and singing and signing autographs. I didn't mean to crowd you."

"You didn't crowd me. Public appearances are all part of my job, but I still want to think about it."

"Sure, I understand." Casey beamed straight at Tess, and a touch of high color painted a backdrop for the smattering of freckles on her cheeks. "Well, I better go. Nice to meetcha."

"Same here."

" 'Bye, Judy. 'Bye, Renee."

" 'Bye," they both said.

When she was gone, Tess remarked, "On top of everything else, Saint Kenny directs the church choir?

Since when does he qualify?"

"He doesn't," Renee answered. "I guess all he's ever done was sing in the high school choir. But when Mrs. Atherton got sick, there was nobody to take over and Casey talked him into it. Since he already sang in the church choir and nobody else volunteered, he agreed to do it. That was about six months ago and nobody else has come forward yet, so he's still directing."

"How do they sound?"

"Pretty decent. They haven't been invited to back up Pavarotti or anything, but"-Renee shrugged-"decent."

Judy spoke up. "Saint Kenny?"

"Well, isn't he? Mother seems to have canonized him."

"He's very good to her."

"Very good to her! He might as well move right in! He plants her garden, fills her water softener, installs her new garage door! Hell, I'm surprised he didn't show up to do her hip replacement surgery this morning! I mean, every time I turn around I'm running into this guy. What is going on?"

Judy and Renee exchanged baffled glances.

"Maybe you'd better tell us what's going on," Renee responded. "The guy helps Mom-what's wrong with that?"

Judy added, "And we've known him our whole lives long, so, yes, what is wrong with that?"

Tess stood before her sisters caught in an unjustified bout of temper. How could she reveal-especially to Judy-that Kenny had set her off by ignoring her? If that didn't sound like a star with a bloated ego, what did?

"I send her money all the time. Plenty of money! What does she do with it? She could pay to have her garage door installed, and she could hire someone to mow her lawn, and have the Culligan man come and service her water softener, but instead she has Kenny Kronek do it. It just aggravates me, that's all! And you know what else hurts? The fact that I offered to buy her the house of her choice, a brand-new one so she wouldn't have to be replacing garage doors and everything else that's crumbling to pieces around the place. She could have a dishwasher, and a laundry room on the main floor, and an air conditioner and anything else she wanted, but she said no. For heaven's sake, have you taken a look at her kitchen cupboards lately? The Formica is worn right down to the underlayer in spots. And her front steps are tilting and the sidewalk is cracking apart. Her bedroom carpeting is as old as we are, and the tile in the bathroom is still that god-awful putrid stuff that was put on when the place was built. I send her nice clothes from really good stores when I'm out on tour, and she wears that lavender polyester slacks set that she probably bought fifteen years ago. I just don't understand her anymore."

When Tess quit speaking, a deep, thoughtful quiet spread through the room. Judy and Renee exchanged discreet glances before the latter spoke quietly.

"She's getting old, Tess."

"Old! She's only seventy-four!"

"Old enough that she doesn't want change. She wants what's familiar."

"But that's absurd."

"Maybe to you, but not to her. There's a lifetime of memories in that house. Why would she want to move away from it?"

"All right, I'll concede that she probably wouldn't want to leave the house, but couldn't she update it a little?"

"You know what your trouble is?" Judy said. "You haven't been around to see her aging. You come home once a year or so and demand that she be the same as she always was, only she's not. Sure she gets stubborn, and sure she thinks that there's no use making changes at this late date, but if she's happy, leave her alone."

Tess stared at Judy. Then at Renee. "Is she right?"

"Basically."

"But does Mother have to look so shabby? Can't you get her to do something with her hair, Judy? You own a beauty shop."

"I've tried. She knows she can come in anytime for a style or a perm, whatever she needs, but it's always some excuse. Either her hips hurt or she has gardening to do."

"Oh, don't even mention gardening! That's the last thing on earth she needs is that garden!"

"It gives her great joy, her garden."

"It gives her hip aches, that's what it gives her."

"That, too, but you're not going to change her mind, so why try? She's had a garden her whole life long, and we all know she doesn't need to raise her own vegetables, but it makes her happy, so let her be."

"And while you're at it, let Kenny Kronek do what he wants for her," Renee added. "The truth is, he seems to be able to convince her to make changes when we can't. Jim told her I don't know how many times that she should have an automatic garage-door opener installed, because it hurt her hips when she bent down to reach the handle. He even offered to do it for her, but she always said no. Then one day she just announces that she's got one and Kenny put it in for her. I don't pretend to understand, but the two of them get along like peas in a pod, so I'm just grateful to have him around."

When Tess went into Mary's room for the last time that afternoon, she looked at her differently, trying to grasp the fact that she was aging, that at seventy-four she had a right to be getting a little feisty. Perhaps Judy was right. Perhaps coming home so seldom left Tess with the illusion that time was not marching on.

She pressed the four-leaf clover into Mary's hand. "That's from Casey Kronek. She came by to see how you are and said to give you this. She found it out in the pasture where she keeps her horse. Said to give you her love and tell you she'd be back to see you tomorrow."

"Oh, isn't that nice. That Casey's a sweet girl."

"Listen, Mom... I'm going to leave now but I'll be back tomorrow. Anything you want, you just let me know, and if you're uncomfortable during the night, you ask for a pain pill, will you?"

"I will."

"We're going to be going, too," the other girls said.

They took turns kissing her and left her looking drowsy and pale.

Outside, they took great gulps of the sweet air. They looked up at the blue spring sky. But they were all silent as they walked toward their cars. In the parking lot, Renee gave Tess a genuine good-bye hug, but Judy offered only a moue that passed for a kiss on the cheek but was not.

It felt like being released, driving away, even in Mary's old Ford Tempo. The spring day was glorious and had warmed up to eighty degrees. Creeping phlox and irises were blooming in front yards. Here and there, rhododendrons made a splash of color. Tess took her time, stopping at a Kroger supermarket and buying herself some fresh vegetables, low-fat salad dressing and boneless chicken breasts before heading back toward Wintergreen. Driving along the familiar roads, she found herself cataloging her mixed feelings about being home again.

There was something to be said for living away from family. Out there, in Nashville and beyond, she was clear of the daily reminders of her mother's health, of Judy's jealousy and all the other petty irritations that had cropped up in the twenty-four hours she'd been home. Being here had brought moments of nostalgia, but more often she became aware of how different she was from the girl who'd left. Her values and priorities had changed. Her pace had changed. Her acquaintanceship, scope and obligations. Was that necessarily bad? She didn't think so. What she had accomplished with her life had taken tremendous energy and commitment, so much, in fact, that on a day-to-day basis there was little room left in her mind for what she thought of as social trifles.

Judy's jealousy was a social trifle.

Mother's stubbornness was a social trifle.

When Tess was wrapped up in business she forgot about such things. At home, idle, they niggled and their importance in the overall scheme of life got blown out of proportion.

When she pulled up in the alley at five o'clock, another of those social trifles was waiting to irritate her: Kenny Kronek was mowing her mother's backyard, dressed in blue jeans, a white V-neck undershirt and a navy-and-red Cardinals baseball cap. He looked up but kept on mowing as she stopped in the alley and activated the garage door. Throughout the jockeying of cars, which took a while, he went on cutting swaths up and down the length of the yard, disappearing to the front, then reappearing in back. When her mother's car was tucked away and her own returned to the apron, Tess took her groceries and headed for the house. She and Kronek met head-on when she was halfway up the sidewalk.

Though they'd have rather snubbed each other, the woman they both loved had had surgery that day. They could hardly pass each other without mentioning it. He stopped and switched the motor to idle.

"How'd it go?" he asked, his weight on one hip, no smile on his mouth.

"Perfect," she snapped, as rudely as possible.

"And Mary?"

"Doctor says she's doing great. No complications at all. They'll be getting her up to stand tomorrow."

"Well, that's good news."

They both felt awkward, speaking with surface civility while wishing they need not.

"I met your daughter today," she told him.

He reached down, picked up a little stick from the grass in front of the grumbling mower and threw it

into the garden. "She told me she might stop up there. I told her she should wait at least until tomorrow, till Mary was feeling a little better."

"She's quite refreshingly natural."

"Meaning she smelled like horses, right?"

Had he been anyone else, Tess would have laughed. Since he was Kenny, she forcibly refrained. "Some.

But she apologized for it."