The Oleander Sisters. Elaine Hussey

just needs this one last thing.” James bent over his toolbox and pulled out a wooden box with a little red steering wheel attached. It was covered with dials that looked as if they’d come from old car parts. Inside he’d rigged a set of hair clippers that buzzed when Andy turned one of the dials.

      Being part of her little boy’s quest for the moon might be the biggest event in their lives. Neither Tom nor James had ever been married, and they both still lived with an ancient cat and their even more ancient mother, who had taken to her bed when she was fifty for reasons nobody knew or would tell.

      Emily teared up, but she didn’t know if she was crying because Andy didn’t like Larry, or because the Wilson brothers had to find joy in a little rocket ship made from cardboard boxes, or because her own sister could end up exactly like them, with nothing to show for her years except gray hair and an old cat.

      As they loaded up their tools, Emily said, “I’m going to give you an Amen cobbler to take home. Your mother might enjoy it.”

      “Mother eats like a bird,” Tom said, “but she’s still partial to Sweet Mama’s cooking.”

      “Good, then. That’s settled.”

      They trudged back to the café, turning in the doorway to wave just as Burt Larson came out.

      “I had some old sheets of plastic up at the house,” Burt said. “I thought I’d help out with that little rocket ship, if you don’t mind.”

      Andy squealed and hugged the postman around the legs. Emily wished he’d show half that much enthusiasm with the man who was going to be his daddy.

      She thanked Burt and then left him in the backyard, helping Andy with the rocket ship while she hurried back to the café. A cloud of sugar and spice rose from the cobblers Sweet Mama had lined up on the counter.

      Wouldn’t it be wonderful if a big bowl of cobbler for dessert worked its magic on Andy? Wouldn’t it be great if the steam that rose around him softened her son so that viewing Larry as his daddy would be as simple as a hug?

      They’d eat it tonight in Sweet Mama’s backyard, while the moon was high and the stars looked like a blanket of lights thrown across the sky. She was smiling as she got a big bowl to serve up Andy’s surprise cobbler, and a length of tinfoil to cover it.

      Emily dug through the flaky crust and into a mixture of peaches and cherries so deep she could see her future. The sweetness of love long denied wafted around her, and the joy of having a real family of her own.

      But as she dipped toward the bottom, she felt an overwhelming sadness, as if something waited for her in the dark with fangs bared.

      “Oh, I’m just being silly.” She quickly covered Andy’s bowl, then wrapped cobbler for Tom and James.

      “What was that, dear?”

      Miss Opal Clemson was standing behind Emily, a little blue hat perched on her gray hair, a black patent-leather purse tucked over her arm and a wide smile on her face. Emily made a mental note to pay her a visit. Miss Opal lived just around the corner from her, and she thought how lonely it must be to rattle around in a house all by yourself.

      “My goodness. Miss Opal.” She smiled at the petite piano teacher who had tried her best to teach Emily the mysteries of the keyboard. It hadn’t worked. Emily didn’t have a musical bone in her body.

      “I was thinking about your wedding music, dear. Have you thought about using a recording of ‘Clair de Lune’?”

      Burt Larson, just coming from the backyard, chimed in with, “Seems to me like Emily’s Big Event ought to have music plain folks can understand.”

      The regulars at the next table joined in, and soon the entire café was abuzz with plans for Emily’s Big Event, spoken as if each word were capitalized and ought to be posted out by the Gulf on the huge billboard that advertised Baricev’s Seafood Harbor.

      As the customers continued to offer unsolicited advice about the wedding, Emily saw Sis materialize in the doorway of her office, then turn and walk back inside.

      Excusing herself from Miss Opal, Emily handed Tom an Amen cobbler then stowed Andy’s in the kitchen and hurried after her sister.

      She found her seated at a battered oak desk glancing at the clock as if she could cling to the march of time and soothe herself with the thought that two o’clock would eventually come and she could close up Sweet Mama’s.

      As Emily sat in the other chair, an uncomfortable old thing with a slatted back and a cane bottom losing some of its canes, she was certain Sis chose it deliberately to discourage visits.

      “How was Jim this morning?” Emily asked.

      “The same. Hunkered down in the house like he’s in a foxhole.”

      “Maybe my wedding will be just the thing to bring him around.”

      “I wouldn’t hold out any high hopes, Em.”

      Sis always looked on the gloomy side of life. Emily refused to let it sag her spirit.

      “Did you bring those special astronaut glasses for Andy?”

      “I forgot. Sorry, Em.”

      Good grief! Forgetting was so unlike her sister, Emily wondered if Sis was getting a brain tumor.

      “Just give them to him tonight at the campout, will you? He’s worrying me to death over those glasses.”

      “I don’t know that camping out in the backyard is such a good idea.”

      “Why not? We always camp out in Sweet Mama’s backyard.”

      “It’s too hot to camp out.”

      “It’s never too hot for a six-year-old. Besides, it’ll be fun. We can pitch the tent by the new hedge so we can smell the roses.”

      “Not the rose hedge!”

      “Good grief, Sis. What’s the matter with you?”

      Sis just clamped her mouth shut and refused to say another word, which was fine with Emily. She had too much on her mind to continue this silly argument with her sister. If she didn’t hurry back to that growing café crowd, there was no telling what kind of mess Sweet Mama would make. She seemed to be having one of her good days, thank goodness, because Beulah had stayed home again to be with Jim, who seemed to be going backward instead of forward.

      Still, something had to be done to help Sweet Mama, but Emily didn’t know what. After the wedding she’d ask Sis. But not until her sister got in a better mood.

      “I’ve got to get back in there,” Emily said. “You didn’t forget that we’re looking at dresses for the wedding this afternoon, did you?”

      Sis rolled her eyes and looked as if she’d been asked to stand before a firing squad. But Emily refused to be daunted, even when her sister glanced at the clock again as if it had suddenly become her enemy.

      “How could I forget, Emily?”

      “Good, then. We’ll leave at two.”

      Emily could hardly contain her excitement. They’d drop Andy off to stay with Beulah, and then Emily could enter that sacred territory she’d fantasized about ever since she met Mark Jones—the bridal shop.

      As she stepped back through the office door, she drew the sound of laughter and lazy chatter around her like a beloved shawl. But the Amen cobblers gave off such a scent of sorrow she wanted to weep.

      Quickly she skirted around them, wishing it was already two o’clock.

      * * *

      The clock on the wall had become Sweet Mama’s enemy. Every loud ticktock meant she was roaring closer to the edge of a looming precipice. Sis was saying, “Sweet Mama, are you sure you can lock up?” and she didn’t have the faintest idea what this fierce granddaughter of hers wanted her to put under lock and