Free That Camden Summer by Lavyrle Spencer

think.
    "Ah, no, actually ... there is no dad. Just a mother."
    "Oh." Isobel grew thoughtfully somber. Because she had been reared primarily by Gabriel and recalled so little of her mother, it was difficult for her to imagine growing up without a dad. "Poor kids."
    "I think they do all right. They certainly don't lack for imagination, and they seem to be a rather happy troop - singing, playing the piano, writing operas."
    "Writing operas!"
    "That's what she said - the little one, that is. Her name is Lydia. She said she and her sisters wrote an opera in Latin."
    "My gosh! They must be brains!"
    "I thought the same thing. Well, in any case, you'll probably be meeting them soon." He pushed back his plate. "Thanks for making the fish cakes, honey. Have you got studies tonight?"
    She made a face. "Orthography and civil government. We're having examinations in both of them tomorrow."
    17 '2
    He stood, picking up his stacked plates and cup. "Then leave the dishes for me. I'll do them later on, but first I have to work on an estimate for the Jewetts."
    "The Jewetts?"
    "That's their name, the new girls. Rebecca, Susan and Lydia Jewett."
    Isobel shrugged and turned away. "I'll probably meet them at school as soon as they get there. I'll see if I like them or not. "
    "Ayup. Well, I've got that estimate to work on, so you get your books and I'll leave half of the table for you."
    They spent the next two hours sitting beneath the new electric light in their white-painted kitchen while the teakettle breathed a thin whisper of song. It was a comfortable room with a pressed-tin ceiling, bead-board wainscot and a curious combination of outdated and modernized equipment, evidence of the owner's ability to upgrade and remodel the house by himself. The lights were electric, the range wood-burning. The sink had a drainpipe but no faucet, only a pump. The oak table and chairs, fashioned by Gabriel's own hand, dated back to the year of his marriage, but the glassdoored cabinets were a recent addition and were tricked out with clear glass knobs, at Isobel's request.
    A fluffy caramel-colored cat came and shaped herself into a loaf on a third chairseat underneath the table, tucked her paws and squinted into a doze. The rattle of her purring joined the music from the teakettle while night pressed its dark
    face to the windows. Three times Gabriel got up and refilled his coffee cup, then resumed working. Once Isobel got up and found herself two molasses cookies. When she had finished munching and studying, she closed her book and looked up to find her father staring into space, his pencil idle.
    "Daddy?" "Hm?" Gabriel started from his reverie. For some odd reason he'd been thinking about that Jewett woman. "What?"
    "Maybe you should give up and go to bed. You're staring. "
    "Am I? Well, I'm not tired. Just woolgathering. Listen, I've got this estimate pretty much finished and I have to give it to Elfred Spear. You don't mind if I take it over there now, do you?"
    "Tonight?" she said in surprise. "It's kind of late, isn't it?"
    Gabriel checked his pocket watch. "Nine. That's not too late." He tucked the watch away, pushed back his chair, tamped his estimate together and reached for a light jacket. "Rain's stopped. Guess I don't need my oilskins. I won't be gone long."
    She stretched, bending backward on her chair, both arms raised. "Okay, good night, Daddy." "See you in the morning."
    He went out without touching or kissing her, thinking how grateful he was to have her and worrying about two, or four, or six years up the road when she'd probably get married and leave his house.
    71;
    Disturbed by the prospect of loneliness, he put it from his mind.
    Outside, the grass was squishy between the stepping-stones, and the sky had cleared. Pinpricks of stars put bright holes in the deep blue velvet overhead, and somewhere spring peepers were fluting. Passing beneath the rose pergola he thought as he often did, Miss you, Caroline.
    Under the lean-to it smelled