When Emily's phone gave its two-jingle ring, she felt first delight then minor annoyance. "Oh bother!" she muttered. She glanced around, seized a clean kitchen towel, and wiped sticky hands.

Her fingers still felt tacky with bread dough as she snatched up the receiver.

"Emily!" Olivia sang out. "Need a favor!"

"Just ask!" Emily answered.

"My daughter and her girls have moved in for a few weeks. Love them little tykes to pieces! But now there's no room to open out the quiltin' frame."

"And we've got to get those last few quilts done before the carnival." Emily stretched the phone's coiled cord and peered into her living room. "Yes, I think we can fit it in here."

"Honey, you're a gem! I'll bring it by tomorrow mornin'. If you're gonna be home, that is. Not out on one-a your odd jobs?"

"Morning's perfect."

Emily went back to kneading bread dough. She'd just swiped the top of the big soft ball in an oiled rising pan when the phone rang again. She settled the lump, wiped oily fingers on the dough-encrusted towel, and hustled again to the phone.

"Emily!" Margret chirped. "Have you decided yet about the fortune-teller role? The carnival committee is set on having you."

"Well, I—"

"You said you'd help out, and that's the last slot we need to fill."

"I was hoping for—"

"You'll enjoy this role, I'm sure. You look the part when your thick gray hair is combed out! I saw you the other morning, fetching the newspaper in your robe and slippers."

Emily laughed. "Okay, I'll do it. But not in my robe."

"I'll dress you up like a gypsy queen, don't worry!"

Emily had just finished wringing out the kitchen towel when Margret called again. "You didn't tell me about the gunfight in the woods! I had to hear it from Dora just now. Why didn't you ring me up right after? You must have had your nerves jangled near to death! You needed a shoulder to lean on, my dear. You know I'm right here, a stone's throw—"

Emily broke in. "There was a knife, not a gun." She went on to paint the whole adventure in patches, like a mosaic, for all the questions Margret spouted.

The peace of her porch beckoned. The rocker and a good book. At long last she wrangled the phone call to an end, but while hanging up, stepped in a gob of bread dough on the floor. Emily huffed, cleaned shoe and linoleum, went for her book, then hurried back when the phone jingled again.

"Aunt Emily! Hilary said her cousin said her neighbor's mom heard that you'd been arrested!" Clarissa wailed, her voice rising to a shriek.

Emily sighed. "Not arrested. Officer Edwards drove me to the station so I could make a statement about a crime I witnessed."

"A crime! What are you up to, at your age? Getting into dangerous—"

"Clarissa, dear, making bread now. The oven timer just rang. We'll talk later." Emily hung up, unplugged the phone, punched down the bread dough with extra vigor, formed loaves, and set them to rise.

At last. A book and a rocker and the company of cats.

.

prompt: "rise"