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  “Okay, now you’re weirding me out,” Sophie said. “Who are you?”

  “Dillie Tucker,” the girl said, and Sophie said, “Tucker? Are you related to Phin?”

  “He’s my daddy,” Dillie said, and Sophie lost her breath.

  “Your daddy.” Sophie regrouped and tried to keep her voice light. Well, Amy and Davy had warned her. Always listen to family. “And how’s your mommy?”

  “She’s dead,” Dillie said, and Sophie tried hard to feel sympathetic about that instead of relieved. The poor kid was motherless, for heaven’s sake. “She died a long time ago,” Dillie went on. “I was a baby. It was very sad.”

  “Oh,” Sophie said. “Yes, I’m sure it was. So, uh, you live with your dad.” There’s something he might have mentioned.

  “And my grandma Liz,” Dillie said. “But I would like to move.” She turned to look at the farmhouse, and Sophie had one strange moment when she thought Dillie might be house hunting. She seemed organized enough for it.

  “How old are you?” Sophie said.

  “Nine,” Dillie said. “How old are you?”

  “Thirty-two,” Sophie said. “Explain to me again why you’re here.”

  “Don’t you want me?” Dillie made her eyes huge and pitiful, and Sophie said, “That’s pretty good, kid, but you’re out of your league, I grew up with a pro. What are you up to?”

  “What’s a pro?” Dillie said.

  “Dillie,” Sophie said warningly.

  “Jamie Barclay says her mother says that she heard that you’re my dad’s girlfriend,” Dillie said. “Are you?”

  “No,” Sophie said. “Who’s Jamie Barclay?”

  “Because it’s okay if you are,” Dillie said. “I can stand you.”

  “That’s very generous,” Sophie said. “I’m not his girlfriend.”

  “Why not?” Dillie said.

  Sophie decided there was nowhere the conversation could go that wouldn’t be dicey. “How about some ice cream before I walk you back to your grandma’s?”

  “Yes, thank you,” Dillie said, and then she grew very still as Sophie stood up, and Lassie got to his feet and yawned.

  Sophie watched Dillie watch Lassie. “Are you afraid of dogs?” she asked gently.

  “No.” Dillie stuck her chin out and just for a moment she looked so much like Phin that Sophie sucked in her breath. “I’m just not accustomed to them.”

  “This is a very nice dog,” Sophie said. “His name is Lassie Dempsey. But if you’re unaccustomed, I can make him stay out here while we go inside.”

  “No.” Dillie seemed uncertain. “What kind of dog is he?”

  “A con dog,” Sophie said. “It’s all right, Dillie. I promise he won’t hurt you.”

  “All right,” Dillie said, and then Sophie walked off the dock with Lassie close behind her as always and stopped next to the rigid little girl.

  “Do you want to pet him?”

  “Maybe.” Dillie swallowed and gave the dog a gingerly pat. Lassie looked up at her with his You’re new at this look. “His legs are short.”

  “But his heart is large.” Sophie held out her hand. “Come on. We’ll get you a Dove Bar and walk you home to your grandmother.”

  “What’s a Dove Bar?”

  “An insanely good ice cream bar.”

  Dillie looked at her for a long moment and then took her hand. “There’s no hurry,” she said, and they went up to the house.

  An hour later, after extended conversation about school, softball, Dillie’s driver’s license, dessert, Lassie, Jamie Barclay, Grandma Junie, Grandma Liz, Dillie’s dad, her hopes, her dreams, her past, her present, and her plans for the future, Sophie had a new respect for Phin. The kid never shut up; clearly nobody had ever turned on her and told her to put a sock in it. That took massively patient parenting skills. Phin really was good at everything.

  Dillie also ate like a horse. When they’d gotten to the kitchen, Dillie had looked at the bag of potato chips on the table and said, “I missed lunch, you know.” Sophie made her a ham sandwich, followed by potato chips, followed by an apple and a banana, washed down with lemonade. “This is excellent,” Dillie said, reaching for another chip. “Is it time for dessert?”

  They were finishing up their Dove Bars and singing along to the sixth replay of “I Only Want to Be with You” so Dillie could learn the words and Sophie wouldn’t have to hear any more about Jamie Barclay, when Amy came into the kitchen.

  “It’s hot as hell out there,” she said, and Sophie said, “Meet Dillie Tucker and stop swearing.”

  Amy blinked at Dillie. “Hello.”

  “Dillie is Phin’s daughter,” Sophie said.

  “Hello.” Amy sat down at the table. “I knew it. I told you so.”

  “This is my sister Amy,” Sophie told Dillie. “Ignore her.”

  “I don’t have any sisters,” Dillie said around the last of her Dove Bar. “Or a dog. It’s very sad.”

  “Tragic,” Sophie held her stick down so Lassie could lick the last of the ice cream off.

  Dillie turned huge gray eyes on Amy. “I don’t have a mommy, either.”

  “That’s a relief,” Amy said, sitting back, and Dillie looked shocked.

  “I told you,” Sophie said. “We’re pros. Don’t try it on us.”

  “Well, it is sad,” Dillie said in her regular voice. “I love Grandma Liz, but I’ve had enough.”

  “I sympathize,” Amy said.

  “I’m not following here,” Sophie said. “What do you want?”

  “I want to live with my dad by ourselves,” Dillie said. “But he says we have to live with Grandma Liz because somebody has to take care of me.”

  “Couldn’t he get Nurse Ratched?” Amy said. “That’d be a step up in warmth.”

  Dillie concentrated on Sophie. “So then Jamie Barclay said you were Daddy’s girlfriend.”

  “I’m not,” Sophie said. “We’re leaving next Sunday.”

  “You don’t have to,” Dillie said. “You could stay here. I like you. And I think I need a mom.” She surveyed Sophie, who was trying to think of something to say, and added, “Maybe you. I don’t know.”

  “Don’t get confused because of the dog and the Dove Bar,” Sophie said. “I’m really not mom material.”

  “I don’t know,” Amy said. “They might be pretty good indicators.”

  “You’re not helping,” Sophie told her.

  “She raised me, you know,” Amy told Dillie. “She was great.”

  Dillie frowned. “I thought you were her sister.”

  “My mother died when I was little,” Amy said. “It was very sad.”

  “Don’t try that on me,” Dillie said. “I’m a pro, too.”

  “I like you, kid,” Amy said. “Was your mom a Dempsey?”

  “No, a Miller,” Dillie said. “Her name was Diane. She was very pretty. Grandma Junie has pictures. She looked like Sophie.”

  “Time to go home,” Sophie said, suddenly feeling depressed.

  On their way out, they ran into Davy. “This is my brother, Davy,” Sophie said.

  “I don’t have any brothers,” Dillie said, looking up at him. “It’s very sad.”

  “Not necessarily,” Sophie said. “This is Dillie. Phin’s daughter.”

  “Is it?” Davy smiled down at Dillie. “Very nice to meet you, Dillie. And how’s your mama?”

  “She’s dead,” Dillie said. “It’s very—”

  “The mayor gets to live another day,” Davy told Sophie. He smiled down again at Dillie. “I was just going to teach this dumb dog how to play Frisbee. Want to help?”

  “Yes,” Dillie said, and then looked at Sophie.

  “Ten minutes,” Sophie said. “Lassie’s legs are so short, that’s all she’s going to last anyway.”

  “That’s about my attention span, so it should work out nicely,” Davy said. “Come on, kid. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

  “Davy?” Sophie said, and watched her brother take h