Free Under the Wide and Starry Sky by Nancy Horan Page B

one side. “Did somebody die?”
    â€œAre you in love with her?”
    â€œWho?”
    â€œFanny Osbourne.”
    Bob yawned. “Hell, no.” He scratched at his head. “She’s fetching, all right, and … “
    â€œBecause I am,” Louis said.
    â€œYou’re daft, Lou.”
    â€œI knew you would find humor in it.”
    â€œWell, her name is Fanny—”
    â€œOf course you would have to say that.”
    â€œShe
is
married, and she
is
a good twelve years older than you.”
    â€œTen and a half. And she’s separated from her husband.”
    â€œSo was Fanny Sitwell, but that didn’t get you into her pantalets.”
    â€œI know, I know.” Louis’s voice was low and urgent. “But this is different. I swear it, Bob, she’s the one.”
    â€œChrist’s sake, Lou. You’ve known her for how long, a day and a half? Must you always fall so hard? Can’t you just play?”
    â€œYou two are together a lot, and I assumed you had something started.”
    â€œNaw.” Bob laughed. “I must own she has a mischievous wit, but the daughter”—he let go a soft, admiring whistle—”the daughter is a minx.”
    â€œSo you don’t mind if I …”
    Bob shrugged. “Have a try at it.”
    Louis leaned over and grabbed his cousin’s arm. “Will you talk to Fanny, then? Not yet, of course. But when the time is right, will you make my case?”
    â€œI’ll try,” Bob said, “but the woman appears to have a mind of her own.”
    Louis lit a cigarette and waited for his comeuppance.
    â€œDon’t you already have a perfectly fine mother?” Bob asked.
    Louis dropped his cigarette into the water glass, sprang onto his cousin, and put him in a headlock. Ever the superior specimen, Bob flopped him around like a fish.

CHAPTER 13
    Belle Osbourne, wrapped in a robe, collapsed on the old stuffed chair in their bedroom. “There is nothing for me to wear tonight,” she said to her mother. “Nothing.”
    â€œWear the blue check dress, why don’t you?”
    â€œIt makes me look as if I’m ten.”
    Fanny was seated at the dressing table. “You’re moving too fast, Belle.” She turned around in her seat. “These young men here …”
    â€œI want to wear something pretty for once.”
    Fanny’s palm made a dipping arc. “A lady keeps her voice low and sweet.”
    Belle hissed with frustration.
    â€œWhen I met your father,” Fanny mused, “I was your age, and …”
    â€œAnd you were standing on stilts.” Belle sighed.
    â€œThe point is …”
    â€œâ€¦Â you were just a child. I know all that, a hundred times over, Mother.”
    â€œIn those days, they started things too early. It was too, too early.”
    â€œNo, they didn’t.”
    â€œIsobel!” Fanny directed a look at the girl that instantly set aright their positions. Belle had always been a pleasant child, eager to help. Lately, she had grown willful, and in a heartbeat, the air between them could thicken with tension.
    The animosity wasn’t constant. Today, for example, they had all gone canoeing on the river. A contest evolved, and Fanny’s boat was overturned. When Bob Stevenson gallantly pulled her out of the water, Belle laughed and called to her, “How pretty you look all wet, Mama!” Soon enough, Belle was dunked, too, but Fanny could not return a tender compliment to her daughter. The mother, as well as anyone else with eyes, saw the blooming girl’s anatomy prominently outlined beneath her black blouse. It had left Fanny feeling oddly sad.
    â€œYou can’t go back, is what I am saying to you.” Fanny’s voice softened. “You sashay out of your childhood, and the world makes sure you can’t have it again. Think about what you’re