Haley reached over and put her glass on the coffee table. She has recently had her strawberry blonde hair cut short and highlighted. I think it looks great, but she calls it her Little Orphan Annie look. “The thing about it,” she said, “is that Papa won’t know how to act without Metal Fab. I mean, think about it, Mama; he eats and sleeps that shop. Always has. Remember how upset he was when he was considering selling out?”

“Well, they’ve assured him he can stay on as manager as long as he wants. So maybe being a small part of a big company is the answer. He’s sixty-four, you know. Or will be soon. He needs time for some fun.”

“Mama, Papa’s idea of fun is unlocking the door at Metal Fab every morning.”

“I know,” I agreed. “Financially it’s a good deal, though.”

We were both quiet for a moment. I had been putting Woofer in the backyard after our morning walk when Haley showed up, and I had started telling her Fred’s news right away. Now I asked her, “How come you’re not at work? Nobody’s heart’s plugged up?”

“The doctor’s on vacation. I’m on call for emergencies. No regular schedule.” She got up and walked toward the kitchen. “You want some more tea?”

“No thanks. How’s Philip?” I could hear ice clunking out of the icemaker.

“He’s fine,” she called. Philip Nachman is a very nice man, the nephew of Sister’s late second husband (also named Philip Nachman, which gets slightly confusing). Haley and Philip met at their mutual cousin’s, Debbie Nachman’s, wedding in March and have been inseparable ever since. Philip is a doctor, an ENT, (ears, nose, throat) which is great; he’s also twenty years Haley’s senior, which worries us.

Haley came back with more tea and sat down on the sofa. I had been so preoccupied with Fred’s news, I hadn’t paid much attention to her. Now I realized something was bothering her.

“You okay?” I asked.

“Philip and I seem to be at a crossroad.”

“A serious one?”

“He doesn’t want any more children. He says he’s had as much getting up with sick babies and as much Little League as he can take.” Haley’s eyes filled with tears. “And I can understand that, sort of. Matthew’s married, and Jenny’s a senior in college, so Philip’s free for the first time in twenty-five years.” The tears spilled over. “But I want my own child. I want my own family.” The family she should have had with her young husband Tom Buchanan; the future that a drunken driver had stolen from her with one swerve.

I moved to the sofa and held Haley while she cried. So much for being “free” when your children are grown.

“He knows how strongly you feel about this?”