"What does he do?" I asked her.

"Oh, Mike does real well. He's the top appliance salesman for Price Paradise." Angie gave me a significant glance. "Mike's a provider."

In Texas the code word for a man with a steady job is "provider." and the one for a man who doesn't have or want a job is the all-purpose "bubba." And it's a well-known fact that while providers sometimes turn into bubbas. it seldom goes the other way.

I wrote down my phone number for Angle to give to her brother. Mike called the next night, and I liked his pleasant voice and easy laugh. We agreed he would take me out for Japanese food since I'd never had it before.

"I'll try anything except the raw fish/' I said.

"You'll like it the way they fix it."

"Okay." I figured if millions of people ate sushi and lived to tell about it. I might as well give it a try. "When do you want to pick me up?"

"Eight o'clock."

I wondered if I could find a babysitter who'd be willing to stay until midnight. I had no idea what a babysitter would charge. I wondered how Carrington would react to being left alone with a stranger. I wondered how I was going to react to it. Carrington. at some stranger's mercy...

"Great," I said. "I'll see if I can get a sitter, and if there's any problem, I'll call you b—"

"A sitter," he interrupted sharply. "A sitter for what?"

"For my little sister."

"Oh. She's spending the night with you?"

I hesitated. "Yes."

I hadn't discussed my personal life with anyone at Salon One. No one, not even Angie. was aware that I was the permanent guardian of a four-year-old. And although I knew I should have revealed it to Mike right away, the truth was I wanted to go out on a date. I'd been living like a nun for what seemed like forever. And Angie had warned me that her brother didn't want to date anyone with baggage, he wanted a fresh start.

"Define 'baggage,'" I had said to her.

"Have you ever lived with anyone, been engaged or married?"

"No."

"Do you have any incurable diseases?"

"No."

"Ever gone to rehab or signed up for a twelve-step program?"

"No."

"Ever been convicted of a felony or misdemeanor?"

"No."

"Psychiatric medication?"

"No."

"Dysfunctional family?"

"I don't have a family, really. I'm sort of an orphan. Except I—"

Before I could explain about Carrington, Angie had interrupted with a gushing, "My God, you're perfect1. Mike's going to love you."

Technically I hadn't lied. But withholdine information is often the same as a lie. and

most people would say Carrington was definitely baggage. In my opinion, they would have been dead wrong. Carrington wasn't baggage, and she didn't deserve to be lumped in with incurable diseases and felonies. Besides, if I wasn't going to hold it against Mike that he'd had a divorce, he shouldn't hold it against me that I was raising my little sister.

The first part of the date went well. Mike was a handsome man with a full head of blond hair and a nice smile. We ate at a Japanese restaurant with a name I couldn't pronounce. To my surprise, the waitress led us to a table no higher than my kneecaps, and we sat on cushions on the floor. Unfortunately I had worn my least favorite pants because my best black ones were at the cleaners. The pair I'd had to settle for, also black, were too short in the stride, with the result that sitting on the floor gave me a wedgie for the entire meal. And even though the sushi was beautifully made, if I closed my eyes I would have sworn I was eating out of a bait bucket. Still, it was nice to be out on a Saturday night at an elegant restaurant instead of the kind where they handed out crayons along with the menus.

For all that Mike was in his mid-twenties, there was something unformed about him. Not physically...he was nice-looking and appeared to be in good shape. But I knew five minutes after meeting him that he was still trapped in the end of his marriage, even though the divorce was final.

It had been a bad divorce, he told me, but he'd put one over on his ex because she had thought winning the dog was a major concession, when Mike had secretly never liked it. He went on to tell me how they had split up their belongings, even breaking up pairs of lamps to achieve strict equality.

After dinner I asked Mike if he wanted to go back to my apartment and watch a movie, and he said yes. I was overwhelmed with relief when we reached the apartment. Since this was the first time I had ever left Carrington alone with a sitter in Houston, I'd worried about her all during dinner.

The babysitter, Brittany, was a twelve-year-old whose family lived in the apartment building. She had been recommended by the woman in the front office. Brittany had assured me that she babysat for lots of children in the building, and if there were any problems, her mother was only two floors down.

I paid Brittany, asked how things had gone, and she said she and Carrington had gotten along great. They had made popcorn and watched a Disney movie, and Carrington had had a bath. The only problem had been getting Carrington to stay in bed. "She keeps getting up." Brittany said with a helpless shrug. "She won't fall asleep. I'm sorry, Mrs.... Miss..."

"Liberty," I said. "That's just fine, Brittany. You did a great job. I hope you can come back and help us out again sometime."