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Deana lowered herself carefully to the child's level, making sureher skirts and pettis stayed neat as she said, "You're a bit young tobe by yourself, aren't you?" The girl was about eight or nine, Deana thought, and dressed inpetticoats of her own. Hers, though, lifted a dress that went clearto the ground. She had a neat bonnet, and a parasol, and looked likea miniature version of one of the characters from Gone With The Wind. "My mama is down the street, at a party. I have to stay in sightof the house," the child explained, pointing to a brightly lit house. "I suppose that will be all right," Deana said as she looked at theHarrison's house. That's where she and her husband would have been, ifBob's boss hadn't decided to have a dinner party of his own that evening.She offered the little girl a bit of fresh-baked bread, another traditionshe had learned from her own mother. "You know," Deana said conspiratorially to the child, "I used to havea Halloween costume. Our families are close, or at least they were, until today." And you didn't even introduce me! Aren't I your fiancé? Are you ashamed of me already?" Sally asked, astonished.I stopped the car and pulled off to the side of the road. They had switched seats, with Sally sitting in the back."Well, I have never been more proud of you," I said. "It's just that, well, their daughter is kind of possessive and still thinks of me as her property sort of, and they were expecting her to arrive at the restaurant at any moment. Her mother supports her daughter fully in that fantasy, too, by the way. And you know how it is with mothers and daughters, right?" You mean if we had stayed, I could have met a piece of your past?" teased Sally."She was never a 'piece' of my past. I was a 'piece' to her, like a trophy or furniture. And no, I never got a 'piece' from her. First she played hard to get, then hard to lose," I remembered ruefully."So, that old broad didn't look too spry. Whatsa matta, don'cha.
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