"A meeting," Carolyn explained patiently. "The editors want me in Boston by tomorrow afternoon. It's a follow-up to a pitch letter I sent last month about writing an article featuring Maine's first woman legislator. She'll be sworn in late next month."

Her mother was skeptical. "How did they find you here?"

"Martha took the call, and gave them your number," Carolyn continued, nonplussed. "Yes, I'm paying her to watch the house. She hardly wants to fly to Florida in July. And Gull Cottage is her home, too. I think she's even got a crush on a certain Mr. Peavey -"

Emily Williams listened carefully as she mixed them each another gin and tonic, adding ice cubes at her daughter's request.

"Are you sure, Carolyn?" she finally interrupted. "Two days ago, you couldn't live without some New York lawyer summering in Maine and now it's as if you've flipped a switch and fallen right back in that awful working-woman role you seem to prefer over marriage and real happiness."

Carolyn swung her leg casually, over the arm of the pool chair, balancing her shoe on her big toe. The last time she and her mother had agreed on anything, it was about which brand of Kotex to buy when Carolyn turned fourteen.

"I'm sorry for blowing in here like an overwrought teenager. All of a sudden, Maine just seemed –"

"—I know, too provincial, too, well, summery."

"Exactly," Carolyn sighed, relieved. Her mother never disappointed when it came to drawing the exactly wrong conclusions at the most convenient times.

"You know, mother, maybe I'm just not ready for another man, yet. Right now, flying to Boston to sit in a conference room with two old editorial maids and a Boston Brahmin publisher sounds pretty good – and potentially lucrative. I know the kids will be disappointed, but if you could drive them to summer camp on Friday, I can leave for Boston and not worry about an afternoon meeting stretching into dinner."

Jonathan and Candy were spying. She could see them just behind the tea service, and surprised herself by winking at them.