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the process that the white wicker furniture needed to be repainted, and that a mouse had chewed a hole in the siding. But the blue gingham tablecloth and the vase of bright yellow daffodils Lori had gathered added a festive aura to the picnic of leftover chicken and Bridget’s tricolored pasta salad. Ida Mae made the first sweet tea of the season—the kind in which sugar is melted in the hot tea before ice is added—and seasoned it with early mint from the back door herb garden. Everyone lingered over the platter of chocolate-chip cookies Ida Mae brought out, and even Noah seemed to relax once the topic of his court appearance had been discussed and abandoned.
    “Gosh, it’s good to be outside again,” said Bridget, smiling beneficently as she gazed out over the yard. The tree limbs were still bare, and the lawn was littered with broken limbs and dead leaves, but in the distance the sheep meadow was turning emerald, and a jaunty row of daffodils lined the fence. “I don’t mind telling you, there have been a few days when I started to lose faith that spring would ever get here.”
    “Can you believe we have temperatures in the seventies this early?” Lindsay commented. “Although I have to admit if I had to face one more freezing night I’m afraid you guys would have had to lock up the kitchen knives.”
    “Thank heaven for global warming,” sighed Cici, sinking back in her chair contentedly.
    “Mom!” Lori’s tone was indignant. “Global warming is not a joke.”
    “I know, I know. The poor panda bears.”
    “ Polar bears!”
    “Right.” Cici hid a smile behind her glass. “Polar.”
    “Ya’ll just don’t get too comfortable in your T-shirts,” Ida Mae advised as she stacked the dishes. “We got ourselves a few cool evenings yet. I wouldn’t’ve started cleaning out them fireplaces just now, if it was me.”
    “I couldn’t stand it anymore,” Cici said. “Everything smells like ashes.”
    “You’re just going to have to dirty ’em up again.”
    “Then I’ll clean them again.”
    Ida Mae sniffed as she marched into the kitchen with the dishes.
    Noah bit into a cookie. “Yep,” he offered, with every appearance of casualness, “it’s the time of year makes a fella think about sleeping under the stars.”
    “Noah wants to move back to the folly,” Lindsay explained to Cici and Bridget.
    “Folly?” Lori said with interest. “What’s a folly?”
    “It’s a building that serves no practical purpose,” Cici explained. “They used to build them a lot in Europe.”
    Lori’s eyes brightened with excitement. “And we have one? Where?”
    “Well, it’s not exactly a building anymore,” Lindsay said. “It’s more like a porch with a fireplace in the middle of the woods.”
    “No kidding!” She looked at Noah with new respect. “And you got to live there?”
    Noah ignored her. “It could be a building again,” he insisted. “All it needs is the walls shored up and some glass for the windows. I could run a 120 line right off the back of the house—”
    Cici’s eyes flew wide. “You’ll do no such thing!”
    “And it sits right on a spring for water. I’d bury the electric line,” he assured Cici.
    Lindsay said, “That’s a great plan, but you’re basically talking about building a whole new house. We can’t afford any of it.”
    “Besides,” added Bridget, “if that social worker comes out to find you living in a folly in the woods, she’ll have us all put in jail. You don’t want that, do you?”
    Noah scowled and stood up. “I’ve got a report to write.”
    Lori got up, too. “Will you show me the folly?”
    “Hold on a minute, both of you.” Cici raised a hand to stay them. “Sit down. We’re having a family meeting.”
    Noah looked suspicious. “What about?”
    And Lori said hopefully, sliding back into her seat, “Is a satellite dish on the agenda?”
    Cici beckoned to Ida Mae as she returned to the porch. “This concerns you too, Ida Mae. Have