"The stone's fluorite," Sam told her. "For cleansing the aura, peacefulness of mind, clarity of thought. We thought, as you both have demanding and difficult occupations, this stone would be most beneficial."
"They're lovely." Roarke lifted one. "Exquisite workmanship. Yours?"
Phoebe sent him a brilliant smile. "We made them together."
"Then they're doubly precious. Thank you. Do you sell your work?"
"Now and again," Sam said. "We prefer making them for gifts."
"I sell when selling's needed," Phoebe put in. "Sam's too soft-hearted. I'm more practical."
"I beg your pardon." Once again, Summerset stood in the doorway. "Dinner is served."
It was easier than Eve thought. They were nice people, interesting and entertaining. And their pride in Peabody was so obvious it was impossible not to warm up to them.
"We worried, of course," Phoebe said as they began with lobster bisque, "when Dee told us what she wanted to do with her life, and where. A dangerous occupation in a dangerous city." She smiled across the table at her daughter. "But we understood that this was her calling, and trusted she would do good work."
"She's a good cop," Eve said.
"What's a good cop?" At Eve's frown, Phoebe gestured. "I mean, what would be your particular definition of a good cop?"
"Someone who respects the badge and what it stands for, and doesn't stop until they make a difference."
"Yes." Phoebe nodded in approval. Her eyes, dark and direct, stayed on Eve's.
And as something in that quiet, knowing stare made Eve want to shift in her seat, she decided Phoebe would be an ace in Interview.
"Making a difference is why we're all here." Phoebe lifted her glass, gesturing with it before she sipped. "Some do it with prayer, others with art, with commerce. And some with the law. People often think Free-Agers don't believe in the law, the law of the land, so to speak. But we do. We believe in order and balance, and in the right of the individual to pursue life and happiness without harm from others. When you stand for the law, you stand for balance, and for those individuals who have been harmed."
"The taking of a life, something I'll never understand, makes a hole in the world." Sam laid a hand over his wife's. "Dee doesn't tell us much about her work, the details of it. But she's told us that you make a difference."
"It's my job."
"And we're embarrassing you," Phoebe said as she lifted her wineglass. "Why don't I change the subject and tell you what a beautiful home you have." She turned to Roarke. "I hope after dinner we can have a tour of it."
"Got six or eight months?" Eve muttered.
"Eve claims there are rooms we don't even know about," Roarke commented.
"But you do." Phoebe lifted her brows. "You'd know all of them."
"Excuse me." Summerset stepped in. "You have a call, Lieutenant, from Dispatch."
"Sorry." She pushed away from the table, strode out quickly.
She was back within minutes. One look at her face told Roarke he'd finish the evening's entertaining on his own.
"Peabody, with me. I'm sorry." She scanned faces, lingered on Roarke's. "We have to go."
"Lieutenant? You want me to tag along?"
She glanced back at McNab. "I could use you. Let's move. I'm sorry," she said again.
"Don't worry about it." Roarke got to his feet, skimmed his fingertips down her cheek. "Take care, Lieutenant."
"Right."
"Occupational hazard." Roarke sat again when he was alone with Phoebe and Sam.