Cathy tried to walk, fell, then dragged herself across the lawn. “Jennifer!”

The young officer ran to her side. “What’s wrong?”

“My daughter . . . she went back inside!”

“I’ll get her,” he said. “Stay here.” Holding his hand over his nose and mouth, he rushed into the inferno.

Long moments passed before he carried Jennifer’s limp body out in his arms. The fire trucks and an ambulance rumbled up as he reached the street. A paramedic took the girl from his arms, laid her down, slipped an oxygen mask over her face, and began CPR.

Cathy sat on the frigid pavement, holding Jennifer’s blanched-white hand. She shivered from the cold and the shock of her injuries. “Come on, baby. Come back to me,” she moaned.

Jennifer’s body jackknifed abruptly. She coughed harshly, gagging, until her lungs refilled with oxygen. Her eyes fluttered open. After a moment she realized where she was. Her eyes searched the area around her frantically.

The policeman who had saved her life knelt beside her. “Looking for this?” He placed the object that had nearly cost her her life gently on her chest. “You didn’t let go of it, even when I picked you up. I figured it might be important to you.”

Jennifer decided then and there to marry a policeman some day.

The firemen knew their efforts were fruitless. The fire roared through the house. Neighbors gathered on their lawns to watch the action as the firemen directed their hoses onto the roofs of the adjoining homes. One neighbor coaxed Flo near enough to lift her into her arms.

Another ambulance pulled up. Its flashing light cast eerie splotches of red and white in a dizzying circle on the surrounding landscape. Paramedics helped Cathy to the ambulance and were closing the door when Jennifer tore away the oxygen mask and staggered toward the vehicle. “Wait! I’m going with her. I’m okay.”

They allowed her to ride beside her mother, who, now that the shock and adrenaline were slowly wearing off, drifted on a pulsing cloud of pain.

•

Even with dark smudges of soot on her face, and her hair a tangled mop, Ben recognized Jennifer immediately. Wrapped in a blanket, she trotted beside a gurney being wheeled into the Emergency Room by paramedics.

Ben rushed to meet them. He took one look at Cathy’s swollen, discolored face and eye, and directed the paramedics to an examination room. “What happened, Jennifer?” Ben asked, beginning his cursory examination of Cathy.

Between crying and coughing, Jennifer explained the terrifying events of the morning. “Are you . . . okay?” Ben asked.

Jennifer caught his meaning. “Yes. I . . . I poked him in the eye before he . . . he could—”

Ben squeezed the girl’s shoulder. “You did great.” To the nurse attending him, Ben said, “Let’s get Mrs. Radski to X-ray. I want shots of the left jaw, cheek, and eye orbit.”

“She hurt her foot, too,” Jennifer said. “Her right one.”

Ben pulled back the sheet covering Cathy’s feet. He manipulated the bones of her foot. “Yep. Get X-rays of the right foot, too. She has a broken great toe, for sure, but let’s make sure there isn’t anything in the foot or ankle,” Ben instructed the nurse.

Cathy’s eyes opened, slowly focused. “Hey, Ben . . . what’s up?” she asked, her mouth twisted, using only the right side to speak.

“How do you feel?” Ben asked.

“Like I went ten rounds with Mike Tyson,” she said weakly.

“Nah. You still have your ears,” Ben joked. “I’m sending you for X-rays right now. Do you need something for pain?”

Ever game, Cathy smiled lopsidedly. “No, thanks . . . “I’ve got plenty already.”

Jennifer took Cathy’s hand in both of hers. “I’ll be right here when you get back, Mom,” she said, as the nurse wheeled Cathy away to the X-ray laboratory.

Ben dropped his arm over Jennifer’s shoulders again. “What’s that leaning against the wall? You had it when you came in.”

“It’s supposed to be a surprise, but I don’t have any place to keep it, now,” Jennifer said, lifting the object into her arms.

“I have an office the size of a broom closet. I’ll put it in there for you, if you want. In the meantime, you probably ought to call Lauren. Ask the nurse at the desk over there to dial the third floor station for you.”

Jennifer entrusted her “secret” to Ben. Then she went to call her aunt. She wondered if there was a good way to tell someone you’ve burned down her house.

Ben put Jennifer’s bundle in his office. When he walked into the hall, another gurney came through the ER doors. This patient cursed and fought against the restraints holding his arms and legs securely on the gurney. A heavy gauze pad covered his right eye. He also had a police escort. “Where do you want this one, Doc?” the young officer who had saved Jennifer asked. His tone indicated euthanasia would be a good alternative to treatment.

Jennifer came up beside Ben. Scowled. “It’s Lloyd. Do the world a favor and put him out of our misery.”

Ben hid his amusement. Jennifer would be all right. She took after her mother when it came to rolling with the punches life metes out on a regular basis. He saw Lauren step from the elevator, waved, and led Lloyd and his contingent into the examination room.

Jennifer met her aunt halfway to the elevator.

They sat together in a small, littered waiting room.  Lauren held Jennifer’s hand as the girl retold her story. “Your house, everything you had, and everything you got for us is gone, Lauren. If we hadn’t been there this would have never happened. We brought Lloyd down on you,” Jennifer said, her lip quavering.

“Hush. Don’t blame yourself for your crazy father’s actions. I just thank God you weren’t harmed. And Cathy will have the best care available, here at St. Matthews.”

“But—”

Lauren drew the girl’s face to her breast. “I’m insured, Jen. Over-insured for that matter. My house and the contents can be replaced . . . you and your mother couldn’t be.”

“But where are we going to stay? I . . . I really liked having a home. Even if it wasn’t really mine.”

That, Lauren thought, was a good question.

Lauren called her father at work and broke the news to him. He insisted on coming to the hospital immediately and arrived in under an hour. Jennifer ran to meet him when he walked in. He took her delicate face in his rough hands. “Are you all right, honey?”

“I’m fine, Grampa. But Mom—”

“Where is she?”

Lauren stepped up beside Jennifer. “She’s in the OR having facial reconstruction. She got lucky. The blow shattered her cheekbone but not the orbit of her eye. And she has a busted big toe. She’ll be okay.”

“When . . . when can I see her?” Frank asked.

Lauren’s heart missed a beat. “You want to see her?”

“Of course I do. She’s my daughter.” Frank ran his palm over his balding head and stared down at the linoleum. “It’s been a long time since I thought of her that way. But when you called me . . . all I could think about was that my little girl was hurt.”

Lauren hugged her father. “They should have her in a room in a couple of hours. I’ve requested she be sent to my floor. We’ll go see her together.”

“Then there’s nothing I can do here?”

“Not right now, Dad.”

“Okay. I’ll go shopping. I can’t have my granddaughter running around in a blanket. Write down your sizes for me, Jennifer. Shoes on up.”

“We’ll have a lot of shopping to do tomorrow. I’ll have to get all of us new things. First, though, I’ll have to find us an apartment,” Lauren said, already tired just thinking about the days to come.

“Apartment? Bull! You can stay with me. Cathy and Jennifer can have my bedroom, you can have the other bedroom, and I’ll be fine on the sofabed,” Frank said.

“We’ll be like sardines—” Lauren began.

“Well, fish in this family swim together. No more discussion,” Frank said flatly.

Ben walked up behind Frank. “And now that the shark is going to jail, they won’t have to worry about being eaten alive. Mr. Radski will be facing numerous criminal charges once he’s released.” He offered his hand to Frank. “I’m Ben Tolson, Mr. Miles. Lauren has spoken of you often.”

Frank shook hands with the attractive man. “You’re the boyfriend?”

“I sincerely hope so. I care a great deal about Lauren . . . and her sister and this brat,” Ben said, ruffling Jennifer’s hair affectionately.

Frank saw the look that passed between Lauren and Ben. It reminded him of the silent way he and Olivia had conveyed their love, even in a room full of people. He liked Ben immediately.

Three hours later, after Lauren’s shift had ended and Jennifer was cleaned up and outfitted with a too-small blouse, too-large jeans, and sneakers no self-respecting teenager would be caught dead in, they all entered Cathy’s room.

Heavy bandages covered the entire left side of her face. Her foot hung from a pulley above the bed, elevating her splinted toe. Her unbandaged eye widened when she saw her father. “Hi, Daddy,” she said, a single tear rolling down her cheek.

“Can I hug you without hurting you?” Frank asked.

She spread her arms. “You can hug me even if it does hurt.”

Lauren and Jennifer watched self-consciously as Cathy and Frank remained in a long embrace. Frank’s shoulders shook with his sobs. Hearts, like dilapidated fences, could be mended. Instead of the cold wire fences required for rebuilding, these hearts were repaired using the warm, strong bonds of love.

Saturday morning, Lauren drove Cathy and Jennifer to shop for the raw materials they needed to create Cathy’s handicrafts. They returned home with the trunk bulging and Jennifer sandwiched between numerous bags in the back seat; then Lauren left the two, already at work, in the garage and drove to her father’s home. She needed to mend the rift between them.

Buoyed by her confession of love for Ben and his for her, she could think of no better time to approach her father. Nothing could spoil her high spirit. Nothing.

•

Olivia Miles’ clothing still occupied one entire bedroom closet—untouched since her death. Until today. Frank thumbed hangers to one side, sorting through the dresses, sweaters, slacks and blouses. Nearly every article carried a memory. But, he reasoned, someone could be getting some use from the clothing. The Salvation Army would be happy to receive such a large donation.

Down on his knees now, he leaned deeply into the closet, trying to snag a pair of shoes pushed into a corner. He heard the doorbell ring. He called out over his shoulder to his helper, “Would you get that? If they’re selling, I’m not buying.”

“Got’cha, sport,” she said, heading to answer the door.

When a woman greeted her, Lauren blinked, unable to think of anything to say. She saw the woman’s eyebrows shoot upward in seeming recognition. “You’re Lauren, aren’t you? Come in. Frank’s in the bedroom.”

Lauren stepped past the woman, then turned. “I’m sorry. Have we met?”

The woman stuck out her hand. “No. But I’ve seen your pictures. I’m Alice Carlson.”

Lauren shook the woman’s hand.

“Come on . . . he’s cleaning out a closet,” Alice said, taking Lauren to the bedroom. “Hey, sport, Lauren’s here,” Alice said, kicking Frank’s rear end gently.

He backed out of the closet on his hands and knees. Lauren heard his knees pop when he stood. “Hi, Dad,” she said, hugging him and kissing his cheek. She caught a whiff of aftershave. Something new. He did not smell like her father.

“Come to apologize, I suppose,” Frank said.

“Well—” Lauren started.

“Frank . . . be nice,” Alice interjected. “I’m sure you have as much apologizing to do as Lauren.”

“She keeps trying to force Cathy down my throat,” Frank grumped.

“But you hung up on her! That’s rude! Say you’re sorry,” Alice told Frank.

Lauren felt more confused by the moment. Who was this woman who seemed to know so much about her family? Why did her father suddenly look so contrite?

“Okay,” Frank said to Lauren. “Let’s call it even. I’m sorry, you’re sorry. Give me another hug.”

Father and daughter embraced again. “That’s better,” Alice said, smiling serenely.

For the first time, Lauren realized what her father was doing—going through her mother’s closet…discarding her things. A mental image of archaeologists desecrating Egyptian tombs flashed through her mind. “Why are you taking Mom’s stuff out of the closet?”

“It’s been six years, Lauren. I should have done it long ago,” Frank said softly.

“You’re just going to throw them away?”

“No. I’m giving them to charity. Unless you want them?”

Lauren calmed down. Of course her father had no reason to keep her mother’s clothing forever. “You’re right. No sense hanging on to them.”

Alice looked at her watch. “I’ve got to go, Frank. I promised my crew I’d be there by noon.”

“All right. I’ll see you later?”

“Sure. Don’t work too hard,” Alice said. To Lauren’s shock, the woman planted a brief kiss on Frank’s lips before turning to her. “It was nice meeting you, honey. Say hello to Jennifer for me.”

Lauren could only nod in stunned silence as Alice stooped to scratch Bobo’s head, then showed herself out.

•

When Lauren returned home she went directly to the garage. “Guess who has a girlfriend?” she asked Cathy and Jennifer.

Cathy looked up, her face smeared with paint, sawdust dusting her hair. “If it’s you, Ben’s gonna be pissed.”

Jennifer chuckled aloud at the expression on Lauren’s face. “Good one, Mom,” she said.

“This isn’t funny. Our father has a new woman in his life. She was there, helping him clean out Mom’s closet. And he smelled like . . . like a young man.”

“Not Old Spice? Uh-oh. This could be serious,” Cathy said. “What’s she look like?”

Lauren described Alice.

“The Sonic lady!” Jennifer exclaimed. “She’s pretty.”

“She said to tell you hello.”

“Remember? I told you they were flirting.”

“Well, it’s beyond flirting now. She kissed him before she left.”

“Good for them. Dad’s been alone too long,” Cathy said. “He’s still a young man by today’s standards. I bet he can still get it—”

“Mom! Don’t go there!” Jennifer said.

“You shouldn’t even know what I’m referring to, young lady,” Cathy scolded.

“Hey! I watch Desperate Housewives, Mom. Very educational.”

“Does nothing bother you, Cathy? How can you take things so casually?” Lauren asked in amazement.

“The same way you take everything so seriously, Sis. If it can’t be helped, don’t fight it. Go with the flow. Chill.”

Lauren took a half dozen deep breaths, removed her coat, and tossed it through the open door onto a kitchen chair. “Show me how to do something. I’ll help. Anything to pass the time until Ben comes over tonight.”

Cathy and Jennifer looked at each other—communicated telepathically, it seemed to Lauren. “Well,” Cathy said, “you’re awfully good at cleaning up.”

Lauren grabbed the broom.

•

When Ben arrived that evening, toting two large pizzas and what appeared to be a gallon of wine, Lauren shook her head. “Will you still love me when I’m a fat alcoholic?”

“Yes. But not as often,” he said with a sexy wink.

Lauren set the table. “I assume, since you brought so much, you intend to share with my boarders?”

“Uh-huh. I like them. Cathy is funny. And I’m trying to figure a way to steal Jennifer’s youth. I may have to take a seminar to hone my mad doctor skills.”

Lauren opened the garage door and called out. “There’s pizza if anyone is interested.” Luckily, she moved away from the door before being caught in the ensuing stampede.

As they ate and drank wine (she even allowed Jennifer a small glass), Cathy noted the change in Lauren—how her eyes kept drifting to Ben’s face when he laughed and the way she touched his hand, his arm and, once, even brushing his hair off his forehead with her fingertips. Lauren had never looked happier. Cathy wondered what it would be like to have a man like Ben, but doubted she would ever know. She saw Jennifer sneak a second glass of wine— but pretended she didn’t.

After eating, Cathy hauled Jennifer back to the garage so Ben and Lauren could have their privacy. Slightly woozy from the wine, Jennifer kept giggling for no reason at all.

For the first time, Ben stayed the night, sharing Lauren’s bed. Lauren awoke to find him propped on one elbow, studying her face. “Well,” she said, stifling a yawn. “now you know what I look like in the morning.”

“If you were more beautiful I couldn’t stand it,” Ben said, tipping her chin upward for a kiss.

She felt him grow against her thigh. “Do people make love in the daylight?” she asked with mock innocence.

Ben stroked her breast beneath the covers. “You don’t have to. But I hope you don’t mind if I do.a Don’t let me bother you,” he joked. “Read a book or something. I’ll let you know when I’m through.”

She curled her fingers around his maleness and snuggled closer. “Bull! I’ll let you know when you’re through.”

Sunday morning and part of the afternoon slipped dreamily away before Lauren took pity on Ben and allowed him to go home.

The man parked at the curb six houses down from Lauren’s home and waited, drinking coffee straight from a battered thermos. He saw Lauren back out of her garage and drive away, then, a short time later, watched as Cathy left the house and walked to the corner. Ten minutes passed before her bus arrived.

The girl would be leaving next, he knew, to walk to school. If she stayed to her normal schedule, he had only a half hour to wait. His pulse raced. He would take her today. He would drive past her, stop, jump from his car, and quickly force her inside. Graphic pictures exploded in his brain as he thought of the things he intended for her. Things put off too long.

The first dim light of dawn chased away the shadows of night. He checked his watch. Fifteen minutes until the girl met her destiny.

•

Due to the lack of elective surgeries on holidays and the day following them, Lauren’s work load amounted to caring for patients previously hospitalized. Barring any emergency admissions it promised to be a slow day, Lauren thought, gratefully, stifling a yawn. Four hours of sleep, troubled by her confrontation with Cathy, failed to rejuvenate her. She perked up some when she saw Donald Arrington, starched and immaculate as ever, step off the elevator. He walked to the nurses’ station and hugged her. “It’s good to be back. I owe you one, Lauren.”

She squeezed his hand. “You don’t owe me anything.”

“Nonsense. If you hadn’t cared enough to make me take time off, I would have been caught eventually. My career would have gone down the tubes.”

“How’s Bob?” Lauren inquired.

Donald shook his head. “Rehab was a bummer, but he’s okay now. He went back to work Monday.”

“I’m happy for you,” Lauren said. “By the way . . . thanks for feeding my sister yesterday. I felt awful about her being alone, but our father still refuses to see her. And I made other plans.”

His eyes crinkled. “I heard! So, you finally gave in to Dr. Tolson’s considerable charms?”

“Couldn’t help myself. He’s a rare find,” Lauren admitted, wondering irritably how much Cathy had told Donald. For all her positive changes, Cathy still lacked propriety. Anything she knew popped from her mouth with no discernible thought of the consequences. Lauren questioned her decision to allow Cathy to stay longer as a houseguest.

“I’m glad you found a man you trust enough to let your guard down.”

“Who would that be?” Ben Tolson asked, walking up behind Donald, then bending to kiss Lauren’s cheek.

“Oops! Caught in the act,” Donald said. “How are you, Dr. Tolson?”

“I’m great, Donald . . . thanks to this young lady,” he said, tossing an affectionate smile at Lauren. “It’s good to have you back.”

“Thanks. Well, I’ll leave you guys alone and try to get back into the swing of things,” Donald said. He lifted a stack of patient charts from the desk and started his rounds.

“Lunch later?” Ben asked Lauren.

She hesitated, felt a wall building itself brick by brick between them. She needed more time to analyze where their relationship was headed. Felt a need to put the brakes on before her emotions careened out of control. “Not today, Ben. I think I’ll use my lunch hour to take a nap. I’m exhausted,” she said.

She saw his green eyes cloud with disappointment.

•

He cursed and lit another cigarette. Something was wrong. Over an hour had passed, and the girl had not made an appearance. He could not risk taking her in broad daylight, with car and pedestrian traffic increasing by the minute.

He banged his fist against the steering wheel hard enough to peel skin from his knuckles, and started the engine. “Next time, kiddo,” he promised as he cruised by Lauren’s house.

Arriving at the shop late, Charlie found Cathy in the storage room and pinned her against a wall. He angled his puckered lips toward hers. She whipped her head sideways in disgust and pushed him away. “C’mon, Charlie . . . knock it off.”

He grabbed her arm. “Dammit, I’m tired of you putting me off. Come down from your high horse and give it up!”

“Jeez! It’s nine-thirty in the morning. Are you ever not horny?”

“Nope,” he answered proudly, sliding his hand between her knees, moving up her thigh in his most overt action to date.

Charlie jack-knifed in pain and shock when Cathy jammed her knee into his groin. “Unnng!” he grunted, grabbing himself with both hands and falling against the wall for support. His eyes squeezed shut. His teeth bared in a horrible grimace. He moaned from deep in his throat.

Cathy snatched up her purse and headed for the door. “Mail me my paycheck, Charlie . . . I quit!”

When Cathy arrived home, she found Jennifer at work in the garage. “What you making, honey?”

“It’s a secret. Don’t look, Mom,” the girl pleaded. “Turn your back.”

“I hope you figured a way to build me a man. One without flaws or defects,” Cathy said, turning away.

Jennifer dashed by her into the house, returning moments later. “What are you doing home?”

“I quit my job. Charlie wouldn’t leave me alone. I couldn’t handle it any longer.”

Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Great. Now what? After the things you said to Lauren last night, we’re going to find ourselves out on the street again.”

“Wait until you grow up before you judge me, little girl. Wait until men begin to pester you,” Cathy said harshly. “We have only one thing they’re interested
in . . . and it occupies about ninety-five percent of their waking thoughts.”

“I may not be grown up, but the way Charlie looked at me made me feel like a big lollipop. Like he wanted to . . . to lick me all over,” Jennifer said softly.

Cathy hugged her daughter. “He won’t be around anymore to look at you, baby. Why didn’t you tell me you were uncomfortable around him?”

“I told Lauren. He looked at her the same way. But you seemed to be so happy with your new job . . .”

“No job is more important than you. Besides, I’m ready to start selling my own crafts. If I had a car I’d take everything to the supermarket parking lot and start today.”

They stood together looking over the completed Christmas articles. An idea slowly pushed its way into Jennifer’s consciousness. “Mom.”

“What?”

“I see garage sales every day when I’m walking home from school. Why couldn’t we put everything out on the driveway and see what happens?”

Confusion stretched Cathy’s features. “I think you need a permit of some kind.”

Jennifer giggled. “When did you start caring about stuff like that?”

Within thirty minutes, Cathy’s baskets, bouquets, vases, and the rest of her creations lay carefully placed in the driveway for maximum visual effect.

The first curious passerby stopped ten minutes later.

•

Frank Miles carefully shaved, brushed back his remaining hair, and splashed Old Spice on his cheeks and neck. He hummed as he dressed in a new shirt and slacks.
His shoes were buffed to a high shine. Playing hooky from work for the first time in years felt good.

Almost eleven A.M., he noticed. He wanted to arrive before the lunch rush. When he headed for the door, Bobo tagged along, having become accustomed to their recent rides. Frank took his windbreaker from the coatrack in the hall and eased into it. A sharp bite of bursitis stung his left shoulder, but nothing could dampen his good spirits. “Not today, Bobo. This is a business trip,” Frank said, shooing the dog away as he opened the door and let himself out.

Today he intended to ask Alice Carlson out. He would not allow her to say no.

“Hey, Sis, you want some breakfast before I go to work,” Cathy asked, shaking Lauren from a sensual dream. Lauren yanked her pillow over her face. “I guess that’s a ‘no’,” Cathy said, turning to leave.

“Wait,” Lauren said hoarsely. She hugged her pillow and lay with her eyes closed. “You said something last night about a favor?”

Cathy sat next to Lauren on the bed. “You awake?”

“Mmm”

“From my first paycheck I’d planned on paying you back part of what I owe you for our bus tickets, something for rent and groceries, and start looking for an apartment,” Cathy said in a rush. “But if you’ll let me slide a little longer, I’d like to use my money for something else. And I want to use the half of your garage you don’t use.”

Fully awake now, Lauren elbowed herself to a sitting position. “You’re going to buy a car? You don’t even have a driver’s license.”

“No, no . . . that’s a long way off. I want to try something, Lauren. Something for Jennifer and me.”

Lauren ran her fingers through her tangled mop and yawned. “What?”

Cathy explained her plan. “I want to make flower arrangements, wreaths, centerpieces, shadow boxes—whatever—and sell them myself. I can get a good price on materials from the same wholesaler Charlie uses, and I’ve talked to the manager of a supermarket not far from here about setting up my wares on the front of their parking lot on weekends.”

“And if you don’t sell anything?”

Lauren expected a shrug, or Cathy’s bewildered expression. Instead, Cathy caught her off guard. “Oh, I’ll sell it. I’m keeping my job with Charlie so I can make more money, but I’ll work every night in the garage on my own things. Jennifer can help me. If I do well enough, I’ll lease a permanent place. I can do this, Sis.”

Lauren could not remember ever hearing Cathy so confident or enthusiastic. “The garage is yours. And I never expected rent from you, Cathy.”

“Well, I know you aren’t crazy about us living here. We’ve upset your life,” Cathy said, patting Lauren’s leg through the blanket.

“Wasn’t crazy about you staying here. I’m used to you guys now. And what life is it you think you’re upsetting? I don’t have a life outside the hospital.”

Flo uncurled from the foot of the bed, stretched to twice her normal length, yawned a sharp-toothed yawn, and insinuated herself between Laura’s leg and Cathy’s hand. If there was any petting to be had, she wanted her share. Cathy stroked Flo’s sleek fur, having finally made friends with the ornery cat. “It looked like you had a life last night. I heard Ben’s car drive up and tippy-toed to the living room. When I heard you on the porch, I discovered if I mashed my face hard against the wall, I could see you through the blinds. Does he kiss as good as he looks?”

Lauren grinned, enjoying the new-found camaraderie with her sister. “Better.”

“Lordy! Uh, anything else happen?” Cathy asked with false innocence.

“Everything else happened,” Lauren heard herself say. She knew she was blushing scarlet.

Cathy nodded knowingly. “I thought so. His feet weren’t touching the ground when he left. You almost caught me when you came in.”

“Snoop!”

“Hussy!”

“Aren’t you going to be late for work?”

Cathy checked her watch and leaped up. “Damn! Gotta catch my bus.” She leaned over, kissed Lauren’s cheek, and hurried to the door. “Thanks, Sis. I’ll make you proud of me.”

From the tone of Cathy’s voice, Lauren realized her approval was important to Cathy.

•

Frank Miles could not believe the mantle clock. Only ten in the morning. Already he had prepared and eaten a hearty breakfast, watered Jennifer’s plants, vacuumed, dusted, and changed Bobo’s flea collar. “Not bad for an old man, huh, Bobo?” he observed. He seemed to have found some new, unknown source of energy. In fact, he felt downright antsy.

The reason for his increased activity must be glandular, he thought. The woman from the Sonic had drifted in and out of his mind all day Saturday—and there she remained this morning. Excitement mingled with guilt.

Frank sat down and went through his photo albums. The picture he loved most of Olivia had not shown up during his housecleaning, but it had to be somewhere. It would turn up eventually. He picked his second-favorite picture of his wife and spoke to it as though Olivia could hear him. “Honey, we never talked about this because neither of us wanted to think about ever being alone. I guess if I had died, I would have wanted you to find someone to take my place . . . someone to love you. I hope you feel the same way. It’s been lonely without you, and I’ll love you until I die, but I need some companionship. Jennifer pulled me from the mire of depression I was stuck in. Now I look forward to living. Olivia, there’s this woman I met. . . .”

Bobo settled himself beside Frank’s thigh, comforted by the sound of Frank’s voice. It droned on for a long time.

•

Lauren showered, dressed in slacks and blouse, and ate a light breakfast. Jennifer joined her for toast and a cola. “How was your date?”

“Fine. He’s a nice man.”

Jennifer pouted. “He called me a kid.”

“Oh, really? Well, he told me you were beautiful.”

The pout faded. “He’s really good looking. Is he a good doctor?”

“The best. He cares about his patients, doesn’t treat nurses like they were peons, and he doesn’t have that god-like attitude most doctors learn along the way.”

Changing subjects at the speed of light, Jennifer said, “You know the Halloween party tonight? I don’t know what to wear. I was just teasing Mom about going as Madonna.”

Lauren sipped her coffee thoughtfully. “You have white sneakers, don’t you?”

“Unh-huh. Why?”

“Follow me, kiddo.”

In Lauren’s room, Jennifer stood silently as her aunt dug through the bureau and closet. “Try these on,” Lauren said, tossing clothing to Jennifer.

The girl looked them over and smiled. “Cool!” She stripped to bra and panties and tried on the clothing.

“Wow . . . that’s awfully short. But cute,” Lauren said, as Jennifer modeled the nurse’s uniform and white pantyhose. “Sit down and let me put your hair up.”

Moments later, Jennifer’s long hair perched in a mound on her head. “The crowning touch,” Lauren said, setting her nurse’s cap on Jennifer’s head. “Looks good to me.”

Jennifer turned around in front of the mirror. “Think Mom will like it?”

“After I mislead her first, she’ll love it. Leave it to me.”

Historically in north central Texas, Halloween brings with it much cooler weather. By three in the afternoon, the temperature had dropped from sixty degrees to the mid-forties, and a light, chilling rain began to fall. Lauren looked out the living room window and sympathized with the trick-or-treaters who would be disappointed if the rain continued into the evening. Not that their numbers were large these days. The world had become a scarier place since Lauren had participated in the annual rite of blackmail. Too many sick people who got their kicks putting slivers of razor blades in candy. Too many sexual predators out hunting for innocent prey. Organized parties were become more prevalent every year, to protect the kids.

Lauren expected the holiday to fade away before many more years passed—if the candy industry would allow it to die. Still, a bowl of miniature Snickers bars was on hand to appease the skeletons, Batmen, Batgirls, and fairy princesses who ventured to her door. She wondered idly if Ben some day wanted children.

The doorbell interrupted her reverie. She opened the door to find a rain-spattered Ben Tolson standing with a bottle of wine in one hand and a bucket of fried chicken in the other.

Jennifer’s built-in fried chicken radar brought her to the kitchen in time to see Ben and Lauren sharing a closed-eyed kiss. “How can you stand there swapping spit when there’s chicken to be eaten,” she said.

Ben stepped back from Lauren looking guilty. Lauren saw him blush this time. “Pay no attention, Ben . . . it’s just that ugly kid who lives with me.”

Jennifer still wore the uniform. Ben gave her an appraising glance, then turned to Lauren. “Do you think I could talk the hospital administrators into making that the official uniform length?”

“Not unless I grow four or five inches and have legs that go on forever,” Lauren told him with a hint of envy in her tone. “That’s her Halloween costume for a party tonight. Cute, huh?”

“Very. She can work at my hospital any day.”

Jennifer glowed at his praise. She joined them for chicken, though Lauren would not let her have a glass of wine, then excused herself so the lovebirds could be alone.

Shortly after six, Cathy came home from work with Charlie in tow. The rain had stopped. Lauren introduced the two men. Though worlds apart in education and background, the men bonded by virtue of sports. The Dallas Cowboys in particular. The conversation quickly became boring.

Lauren saw Cathy heading for Jennifer’s room and hurriedly intercepted her. “Don’t go in. She wants to surprise you with her costume,” Lauren said.

Cathy’s eyes narrowed. “I’ll bet. Who did she pick?”

“Oh, I don’t know her name. But we had a time getting the fake tattoos on her buttcheeks and belly. And the ring-pierced bellybutton really looks like the genuine article. The spaghetti straps keep falling off her shoulders, but if she’s careful and doesn’t bend over too far—”

“Dear God,” Cathy moaned.

Lauren tapped on the door and Jennifer stepped out. Cathy blinked several times. “You look darling, Jennifer! It’s too bad your aunt is such a bitc—”

“Mom, be nice. Do you really like it?” Jennifer asked anxiously.

“It’s fine. A little short, but hey . . . you’ve got my legs, girl. When is Kyle picking you up?

“Any minute now. He’s hardly picking me up, though. He’s fifteen, Mom. He’s walking over to escort me to the party. It’s only four blocks.”

Jennifer and Cathy rejoined Ben and Charlie. When Kyle Letterman arrived to abscond with Jennifer, three pairs of eyes examined him. The other two eyes, Charlie’s, were fastened on Jennifer, watching her every move. He rearranged himself in his trousers.

Kyle’s Eddie Haskell-like politeness was intact. “Don’t worry, Mrs. Radski, I’ll take good care of her. I’ll have her home by eleven.”

“Fully clothed and sober, young man,” Cathy said.

Jennifer, mortified, grabbed Kyle’s hand and whisked him through the open door.

“I need to be goin’, too,” Charlie said. “I have to go back to the store and make the night bank deposit.” He leaned to kiss Cathy.

She turned her cheek to him. “See you in the morning, Charlie.”

As Charlie was leaving, Ben’s beeper “meep-meep-meeped” on his belt. He checked the digital readout. “It’s the hospital, Lauren. Excuse me while I make a phone call?” He reached for his cellphone and stepped discreetly into the hall so his call wouldn’t interrupt the women’sconversation. Thirty seconds later he came back to the living room. “Duty calls. Three-car pile-up on the freeway. I’m sorry.”

“Like you said, ‘duty calls’.” Lauren kissed him softly, lingeringly, on the lips. “Be careful.”

He waved as he left, taking long, quick strides down the walk to his car. Lauren closed the door and fell with her back against it. She sighed.

Cathy shook her head and smirked. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Two blocks from Lauren’s house, the man parked, headlights extinguished. He slouched down in the seat, watching Jennifer and Kyle as they walked, hands together, arms swinging playfully. A sudden gust of wind lifted the hem of the uniform the girl wore. For an instant her shapely thighs were exposed. The man touched himself and moaned. I’ll have her, he thought, as his breath condensed on the windows, fogging them. Not tonight. But soon.

Jennifer climbed from the truck, still giggling. Since catching Frank Miles flirting, she’d been teasing him mercilessly. “Get out, you little pest,” Frank said lovingly. “You need to respect your elders.”

“Okay, sport. My Coney Island Casanova. My drive-in Romeo,” Jennifer joked, batting her long lashes.

“Brat!”

“Love you, Grampa.”

“I love you, too. Call me . . . I’ll let you talk to your plants.”

Jennifer ran to the door of Lauren’s house. Frank chuckled. What a girl! He backed out of Lauren’s driveway and headed east. A block from the house, a woman walking along the sidewalk waved at him. He automatically returned her gesture. Then he recognized her. His own daughter, Cathy. Too late to take back the wave, he drove on.

Cathy felt buoyed by the wave from her father. Until that moment she had not realized how much she missed him—how desperately she needed him in her life. Perhaps the rift between them could be mended some day.

She entered the house moments behind Jennifer. The girl stood watching Lauren hectically dust and straighten every picture on the walls. Lauren wore shorts and a ratty T-shirt. “What’s up?” Cathy asked, kissing Jennifer’s smooth cheek.

“Mary Poppins on speed or something. The house looks like a crew of cleaning women has been through here. I bet she even vacuumed the cat.”

Lauren mopped perspiration from her forehead with a paper towel. “Funny. Cathy, control your daughter.”

“Jennifer, behave. Your spinster aunt is obviously in a state of panic over her date tonight,” Cathy said, nudging her daughter.

Jennifer leaned shoulder-to-shoulder with her mother. “Judging from her hair, I’d say she isn’t in panic so much as shock. Terminal frizzies, I’m afraid.”

Lauren turned with a pout. “What time is it?”

Cathy checked her watch. “Five-thirtyish.”

“I can’t do this. I’m going to call Ben and beg off.”

Sister and niece surrounded Lauren. Each took an elbow. “Come on . . . we’ll wash your hair again, and help you get ready. You’ll be fine,” Cathy said.

“Just don’t barf in his lap . . . it makes a bad first impression,” Jennifer added helpfully.

As they tended to Lauren, Jennifer related her day with her grandfather—especially his flirtation at the drive-in. “This is my father you’re talking about, right . . . not some evil clone?” Lauren said, feeling herself relax.

Jennifer brushed and dried Lauren’s hair until it fell in lush waves, while Cathy scavenged through Lauren’s closet. She selected a simple black dress with a low-cut V neck. “Wear this with your best push-up bra and a string of pearls. You may not be home for days,” Cathy said with a leer.

It’s nice having someone else make decisions for me, Lauren thought. When dressed, she twirled around for inspection. She got twin thumbs-up from Cathy and Jennifer. Then the doorbell rang, and Lauren nearly left her skin. “He’s early!”

“Keep your drawers on, Sis . . . I’ll get the door,” Cathy said, amused by Lauren’s distress. She let Ben Tolson into the house and introduced herself. “Lauren will be ready in just a minute. Have a seat . . . I’ll let her know you’re here.”

Cathy controlled the urge to run to Lauren’s bedroom. Once there, she hissed in an excited whisper, “Good God, he’s gorgeous! He looks like that actor on ER . . . that Clooney guy . . . only taller. Those eyes!”

“Get a grip, Mom,” Jennifer said. “I’ll go keep him company until Lauren stops hyperventilating.”

Jennifer strolled into the living room. Ben stood and extended his hand. “You must be Jennifer. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Her mother’s description was accurate. Gorgeous.

Suddenly aware of her sloppy clothes and soiled fingernails, Jennifer put her hand in his. She didn’t trust herself to speak, afraid she would stutter unintelligibly. She gulped.

“Lauren tells me you’re quite an artist, and a great kid,” Ben said, smiling.

Kid? Jennifer stood up straighter, displayed her new-found figure, and returned his smile. “Yeah, she seems to like me. She’s cool.”

“Indeed.”

“Uh, I’ll go get her,” Jennifer said. She did not try to dampen her enthusiasm. She ran to the bedroom. “Lauren, if you don’t want him, can I have him?”

“I saw him first,” Cathy growled. “I get all Lauren’s rejects.”

Ben Tolson had obviously won the hearts of all three women.

“Thank you very much,” Lauren said. “but I think I’ll keep him.” She took three deep breaths, squared her shoulders, and went to meet the good doctor. Her retinue followed close behind.

When Lauren entered the living room, Ben actually leaped to his feet. His eyes widened. Lauren took this in, as well as the charcoal gray dress slacks and blue sport coat Ben wore. “Hi, Ben,” she said.

“My. My,” Ben stammered. He straightened his tie. “You look lovely. I’ve never seen you in anything except your hospital whites. What a waste.”

As Lauren and Ben were leaving, Cathy said, almost as an afterthought, “Oh, Lauren, I need to speak with you tomorrow. I have a favor to ask.”

A mild southerly wind lifted Cathy’s dress as she waited for the bus. In her previous jobs, waitressing, she always hated working Saturdays, but she found herself happy to be going to the shop, no matter the day of the week.     Granted, Charlie became more persistent every day in his clumsy attempts to seduce her but, so far, she had managed to hold him at second base, enduring his cigarette-sour kisses (she had not smoked since the night at the Italian restaurant) and his juvenile fondlings.

A plan rattled around in Cathy’s mind—possibly the first in her life. She realized she needed to change if she wanted to be a good mother to Jennifer. Gone were the two beers she usually drank each night, as were the second helpings at each meal. And, though winded at the end of their run each evening, Cathy had puffed along with Lauren the three previous nights.

More obvious were the changes in her appearance. The unnatural brassy blonde shade of her hair was gone, replaced by a brown rinse approximating her natural color. With Lauren’s help, she learned to apply her makeup lightly, rather than trowel it on. She warmly recalled Jennifer’s response to the new look. “You’re as pretty as you were in your high school pictures, Mom!”

She knew her daughter well enough to know Jennifer never lied.

The bus pulled to the curb in a cloud of blue exhaust fumes. Cathy boarded, nodding at the other passengers as she made her way down the aisle to an empty seat. She turned; and caught her own reflection in the window. The mirror-image smiled back at her.

•

Lauren sipped coffee while she scanned the newspaper. The pages wavered in her hand. Nerves. As her date with Doctor Tolson drew closer, the old wariness troubled her. She checked her watch. Ten more hours. She took a deep, steadying breath. I’ll be a complete basket case by seven, she thought ruefully.

Jennifer shuffled into the kitchen, still wearing her pajamas and fuzzy slippers. She snagged a cola from the refrigerator and joined Lauren at the table. Lauren shivered. “How can you drink a soda this time of the morning?”

“Gotta get my caffeine fix. Coffee upsets my stomach.”

“What time is Dad coming over for you?”

“He said around eleven. Why?”

“Because he’s here. I just saw him coming up the front walk.”

“But it’s only nine!”

“That’s Dad for you,” Lauren said. “Go let him in.”

Jennifer opened the door and greeted Frank Miles with a hug. “You’re early, Grampa.”

“I know. I wanted to see Lauren’s house.”

“C’mon” Jennifer said, linking her arm in Frank’s. “She’s in the kitchen.”

Lauren kissed her father’s cheek. “Coffee?”

“Sure.”

“I’ll go get dressed,” Jennifer said.

“Okay. Wear something old . . . I’m going to put you to work.”

“Old is no problem,” Jennifer said. “Until Lauren took me shopping, that’s all I had. What kind of work?”

Frank lowered himself into a chair. “You’ll see.”

“Okay. I won’t be long,” Jennifer said, heading for her room.

Lauren placed a steaming cup of coffee in front of Frank. “It’s been a long time since we had coffee together.”

Frank nodded. “I like your place.”

“Bring your coffee . . . I’ll give you a tour. Forgive the unmade beds.”

Frank followed Lauren as she took him through the house, showing him everything except Jennifer’s room. “You have a lot more room than I have. Sometimes I wonder how the four of us lived in our house, with just the two bedrooms.”

“I never thought about it, I guess. Cathy left before I got big enough to take up much space.”

Frank’s face clouded. “How are you two getting along?”

“Better. She’s working at the mall. Seems to really like her job, except for her boss. They’re dating, but I don’t think Cathy likes him much.”

“Always some man. Nothing ever changes with her.”

Lauren found herself in an unfamiliar position—defending her sister. “I don’t know, Dad. She’s quit smoking and she’s taking better care of herself. She’s really happy to be back home.”

Frank snorted. “Jennifer told me it wasn’t Cathy’s fault . . . about the funeral. Lloyd wouldn’t let her come. If she was more like you, uninterested in men—”

“Newsflash, Dad . . . I’m interested in one man. We’re going out tonight, as a matter of fact. He’s a doctor at St. Matthews.”

“A doctor? That’s good. Not like the bums Cathy drags in.”

Jennifer opened her door and came into the hallway. She wore old jeans and one of her many sweatshirts. “Want to see my room, Grampa?”

Frank peeked inside. “Nice.” He saw the chalks on her dresser. “You an artist?”

“Show him your drawings, Jen,” Lauren prompted.

They followed Jennifer into her room. She took several drawings from the dresser and handed them to Frank. “Gosh, you should have these framed,” Frank said, his voice filled with admiration.

Jennifer started to reply when she noticed the photo lying face up on the dresser. Angling until her body concealed her actions, she reached behind her and pushed the photo beneath her schoolbooks. “I still have a lot to learn. Can we go now?”

Lauren noticed the girl’s edginess but put it off to embarrassment. “You may as well get used to praise, Jen. You do draw very well.”

Flo sidled in and sniffed Frank’s cuffs. She backed away, her eyes slitted in one of her crazy Siamese expressions. Frank reached down. “Here, kitty.” Flo dashed under the bed. “She must smell Bobo on me.”

Lauren grinned. “Yeah, she hasn’t had much experience with dogs, but she sits in the front window watching them when they wander by. You wouldn’t believe the sounds that come out of her.”

After another cup of coffee, Frank and Jennifer left. Eight more hours until Ben Tolson would pick her up, Lauren noticed. Her hands no longer shook, but a tight knot filled her stomach.

•

The nursery at the hardware store smelled of potting soil, fertilizer, and herbicides. Frank pushed a metal cart down the aisle. Jennifer followed, amazed at the variety of greenery available even now, during the last week of October. “What are you looking for, Grampa?”

“You told me you never had a garden. Now you can. I repaired the hothouse,” he said, stopping beside a long table of small potted plants. “Here we are. Pick whatever you like.”

Everything looked the same to Jennifer. “I like tomatoes,” she ventured.

“Okay. Beefsteak, Big Boy or cherry.”

“Uh, red ones.”

Frank chuckled. “They’re all red, sweetheart. Some get nearly as big as a grapefruit, some are medium-sized, and cherry tomatoes are the size of ping-pong balls. Just pop ’em in your mouth and chomp down.”

“Oh! Little tomatoes! Yeah, I had those at Grandma Radski’s when I was little.”

“Right in front of you,” Frank pointed. “Pick out six healthy green plants.”

Jennifer selected a half dozen of the seedlings, looking to Frank for approval.

“Good. What else?”

“Watermelon?”

“Not exactly a hothouse plant. Too big and sprawling. Same with squash. Corn and okra are too tall. How about green onions, lettuce, cucumbers, potatoes—”

“Onions and potatoes,” Jennifer agreed.

Irish or red?”

Rather than sound ignorant again, Jennifer answered, “Both.”

With the cart loaded with seedlings, potato eyes, potting soil, garden trowels and a brightly colored watering can, they headed for the checkout counter. “These are pretty,” Jennifer said, stopping at a table filled with marigolds in a rainbow of colors.

“Get a few. The smell keeps certain insects off the vegetables.” Jennifer twisted her mouth in disbelief and looked askance at her grandfather. “Really,” Frank assured her.

She sniffed the plants—and believed him.

By two o’clock they were finished. The new plants stood in tidy rows, the marigolds interspersed amongst them. Frank showed Jennifer how to mix the root-stimulator and liquid fertilizer, and watched as she applied the mixture to each plant from the watering can. The girl’s face glowed.

Covered to her elbows with a black dusting of potting soil, fingernails grimy, she seemed delighted in her work. Frank thumbed a dark smudge from her nose. “You know you have to visit regularly now. Your little seedlings need food and water to help them grow.”

“My seedlings?”

“You planted them, you care for them . . . they’re yours.”

Jennifer touched the leaf of a tomato plant tenderly. I’ll come every week, Grampa. How long before they put out vegetables?”

I’m setting the thermostat at seventy-five degrees. By Christmas you should have your first crop. Earlier on the onions.”

“Neat. Thanks.” She hugged Frank.

“I’m so hungry, you can almost get your arms around me. Let’s get cleaned up and grab a late lunch on the way back to Lauren’s.” Bobo jittered in nervous circles at Frank’s feet. “Yeah, you can come, too. Let’s go.” Bobo yipped and bounced like a wind-up toy.

They stopped at the Sonic Drive-in and ordered foot-long Coney Islands with the works, and onion rings. Bobo got a wiener, torn in small pieces and placed on a napkin between Jennifer’s feet.

Jennifer dabbed at a dollop of chili that dribbled down her sweatshirt. “I should have waited to clean up. These things are messy!”

“But good, huh?”

“Um-hum. I’m gonna have to have a hot fudge sundae to wash it down, though.”

Frank leaned out his open window and pressed the “order” button. From inside, a voice said, “Welcome to Sonic. May I take your order?”

“Two large hot fudge sundaes, please,” Frank said.

Most of the carhops were fresh-faced teenagers, not much older than Jennifer. The woman who brought their dessert, however, looked to be in her late forties or early fifties, Frank noticed. Her dark hair was shot with silver.

She set the sundae dishes on the tray affixed to Frank’s window. “Two hot fudge sundaes?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Frank said. He handed her a five dollar bill and sat up straighter in his seat.

Green eyes appraised him. “We usually give free after-dinner mints. You may need Rolaids,” she said good-naturedly.

“Not me. Cast iron stomach,” Frank said, sucking it in. “Are you new?”

“Nope. It’s my store. I’m just short-handed. One of the kids called in sick. Happens a lot on Saturdays. ‘Party fever’ is my diagnosis.”

Jennifer gasped when she heard Frank say, “Boy . . . an attractive woman with an endless supply of Coney Islands. What more could a man hope for?”

The woman lifted an eyebrow. “Right offhand, I’d say more napkins, sport . . . you’re covered with chili and mustard.”

Frank looked down at himself.

“Got’cha!” The woman handed Frank his change and walked away. Frank watched her go.

“Grampa! You’re flirting!” Jennifer accused.

Frank turned to her. “What? I wasn’t . . . .” Then he realized she was right. He felt blood rush to his face and bald head. Emotions filled him. First guilt. How could I do this to Olivia? Then something else. A feeling of—what? Maleness? Yes, he decided. He thought those feelings were long dead. It felt good to have them back.

“It’s okay,” Jennifer said. “She was flirting back.”

“Nonsense!” Frank bellowed, regaining his composure. Then, as though he trusted Jennifer’s judgment in such matters more than his own, he asked softly, “You think?”

•

“Arrrgghhh!” Lauren cried, sending Flo dashing madly beneath the bed. “Why am I doing this? I’m not ready. What will I talk about? What if he tries to kiss me?”

Still four hours remained until Ben Tolson would come for her, and here she stood, hyperventilating, her palms gummy with perspiration.

Half the contents of her closet lay scattered over the bed. Nothing looked right on her. And her hair had naturally picked this day to frizz and stand out with static electricity. She forced herself to take several deep breaths. “Calm down, Lauren Miles. Get yourself under control. It’s what you do best . . . remember.”

She looked in her dresser mirror—saw her forehead furrowed with anxiety—and noticed, for the first time, tiny lines around her eyes. Her shoulders slumped. “All I need’s a big pimple in the middle of my nose.” Having said it, she could almost feel a giant zit waiting just below her smooth skin. Waiting to erupt. Waiting until Ben Tolson came to her front door. “Arrrgghhh!”

The first thing that struck Lauren when she arrived home was the silence—a lonesome stillness broken only by the tick-tick-tick of the mantle clock. In less than a week, she had become accustomed to Cathy’s chatter and Jennifer’s laugh.

Flo lay as flat as only a cat can on the sofa. She lifted her head and peered through sleepy eyes as Lauren passed by. “Don’t bother getting up,” Lauren said needlessly. Flo’s head flopped back down.

The temperature remained in the high sixties. Lauren changed into shorts and a T-shirt, having decided to take her run early since darkness came sooner every day. Even in her middle-class neighborhood, a woman running alone after dark offered too tempting a target for those bent upon mischief.

As her muscles stretched, the tension of the day oozed from her. She thought about her confrontation with Donald Arrington and the tearful good-byes when he announced his leave of absence at the end of their shift. She hoped things would work out for him and their friendship would remain intact when he returned.

She also thought about Ben Tolson’s green eyes peering over the top of his surgical mask, serious and intelligent, and the familiar way he pressed her hand. She thought she could become accustomed to his touch.

When Lauren turned the corner onto her street on her return, she saw Cathy ahead of her, walking from the bus stop. “Hey, Sis!” Lauren called out. Cathy turned and waited for Lauren to catch up. “How was the new job?”

Cathy bubbled. “I love it! I can do things I didn’t know I could do. Charlie was real happy with the way I helped customers . . . and my cash register checked out to the penny!”

“That’s great.”

“It shouldn’t take me long to save enough money to get a place.”

Lauren felt a wave of loneliness wash over her. She recalled the tomb-like silence of her home. At the same time, she did not wish to discourage Cathy’s enthusiasm. She simply shrugged. “It would be a shame making Jennifer change schools so soon.”

Cathy put on her confused expression but did not follow up verbally.

“Is dating Charlie part of your job description?” Lauren asked.

“Maybe. But it’s no problem . . . he’s nice.”

“I hope so. C’mon, I’ll race you to the house.”

“I’m wearing heels, silly.”

“Take ’em off,” Lauren goaded playfully. “Not that it will help.”

Cathy removed her shoes. “You’re on, Pipsqueak,” she said, using the name she’d called Lauren as a child.

Lauren crouched. “On your mark . . . get set . . . .”

Cathy looked at a point beyond Lauren. “Hang on. Here comes Jennifer.”

Lauren straightened and turned around. “Where?” she asked.

Then she heard feet slapping the sidewalk and Cathy yelling, “Go!”

Giving chase, Lauren muttered to herself, “You always cheated!”

They hit the front door in a dead heat and wrestled their way inside. Cathy’s face was flushed scarlet. She wheezed like an asthmatic. “Damn . . . cigarettes.”

Lauren helped Cathy to the kitchen for water. Jennifer was tending a skillet of pork chops and a saucepan of macaroni and cheese, the telephone receiver cradled between her chin and shoulder. “I’m looking forward to Saturday,” they heard her say.

Cathy, still gulping air, waved her hand before Jennifer’s eyes. “I’ll not have you talking to guys on the telephone for hours, Jen. And you haven’t asked my permission to do anything Saturday.”

“But, Mom—” Jennifer began.

“You heard me. Now, tell that kid you have to go.”

“Mom—”

“Jennifer,” Cathy said harshly, “hang up!”

The girl rolled her eyes and blew in exasperation. “Sorry, Grampa, I have to go now. Mom doesn’t want me talking to boys.”

Whatever Frank Miles said set Jennifer to giggling. Lauren took the telephone. “Dad?”

“Hi, Lauren. I was just asking Jennifer if she could come over Saturday and help me with something. I guess Cathy is afraid the apple doesn’t fall far from the tree?”

“Uh, I guess.”

“Too bad she didn’t have that much sense when she was a teenager.”

Lauren looked at her embarrassed sister. “Can Jen go to Dad’s Saturday?”

“Sure. Sorry, Jennifer. I should have known better.”

“That’s okay, Mom. Besides, my date isn’t until Sunday. I’ll talk to you about it later,” Jennifer said with a grin.

Lauren watched Cathy’s eyes narrow. “She can come, Dad. Hey, why don’t you come pick her up . . . you can see my house.”

The mirth went out of Frank’s voice. “Will Cathy be there?”

“Uh, I don’t know, Dad.”

As though she had heard the question, Cathy growled, “Tell him not to worry. I’ll be at work.” She walked from the kitchen, her lips set in a thin line.

A half hour later, Lauren went to Cathy’s room and leaned against the door frame. Cathy was brushing her hair. “Dinner’s ready.”

“Charlie is taking me to dinner. You guys go ahead,” Cathy said, obviously not wanting to talk.

Lauren returned to the kitchen. “Your mom is going out to eat,” she told Jennifer.

“Okay. I made you a big salad, Lauren, since you don’t eat meat.”

The chops smelled wonderful. “What the heck,” Lauren said. “Split the salad with me and throw a couple of pork chops on my plate. I’ll be a vegetarian tomorrow.”

After dinner, Lauren and Jennifer sat filled and contented on the sofa, watching a sit-com about, as near as Lauren could tell, nothing. When the doorbell sounded, Cathy rushed to open the door. Charlie was tall and dark, with eyebrows that met over the bridge of his nose. When introductions were made, he took his time looking at Lauren’s bare legs before turning his attention to Jennifer.

The glint in his eyes did not go unnoticed by Cathy. She felt a pang of jealousy flare, suddenly feeling overweight and undesirable. Something else she would have to work on, she decided, ushering Charlie out the door.

When they were gone, Jennifer said, “He looked at me the way Lloyd did . . . like I was a big piece of candy.”

Lauren hugged the girl. “I know. I got the once-over, too. Scary isn’t it?”

Jennifer nodded. “I hope Mom’s okay with him.”

Flo leaped into Jennifer’s lap, curled herself into a ball of fur, and purred softly, showing her acceptance of these new people in her home.

Lauren punched the time clock and stifled a yawn as she went to the nurses’ station. A tall, red-haired nurse was finishing up charts from the previous shift. “Good morning,” Lauren said. “Any new admissions or problems during the night?”

“One admission. Mild heart attack. He’s in 319,” the redhead answered.

“How about Mr. Oliphant? He was having a great deal of pain yesterday afternoon.”

“All quiet.”

Lauren rolled her head on her shoulders, trying to work out the stiffness from sleeping in the chair all night. “Thanks. I’m going to grab a cup of coffee from the lounge. Want one?”

“Unh-unh. My molars are floating already.”

Lauren found Donald Arrington sitting in the lounge, elbows on the table, his head in his hands. “You okay?”

Donald looked up, bleary-eyed. “Just tired. Bob kept me up all night.”

Lauren spilled coffee down the side of the Styrofoam cup she held. “Oh,” she said tonelessly.

Donald saw the blush rise to her cheeks. “No, no . . . not what you’re thinking. His back was really bothering him.”

Lauren giggled, embarrassed.

“Since you have your pretty little mind in the gutter this morning, how was your lunch date with the dashing Doctor Tolson?”

Lauren thumped the back of Donald’s head with her index finger. “He seems very nice.”

Smoothing his hair down, Donald winked and, in the tone of a sports announcer, boomed, “It’s a sharp hit to left field, folks, and Tolson is on his way to first base!”

“You want to get thumped again?” Lauren asked. She tried to paint a serious look on her face but failed.

“So, when are you going out?”

She raised the cup to her lips. The coffee smelled as though it had burned to the bottom of the pot then been reconstituted with additional water. It tasted even worse.

“Saturday week. Why? Want to double date?” Lauren teased.

“Heavens, no! It would just be too strange to see my little nurse chum playing the giggly female . . . hanging on Doctor Ben’s every word . . . discussing the birds and the bees.”

Lauren smirked, thumped Donald again, and headed for the door. As it closed behind her she heard him say, “Buzzz!”

It turned into one of those days. Not particularly rushed, but steadily busy. Before she realized it, her shift was over. Now came the tough part of the day. She drove downtown to the bus station to meet the sister and niece who were almost strangers.

The bus station stood between two boarded-up, condemned buildings in a section of downtown long overdue for renovation. Lauren parked at the curb, dropped a quarter in the meter, and headed toward the entrance. A man lay on the sidewalk, curled in a fetal position. The neck of a liquor bottle protruded from the rumpled brown bag clutched in his sleeping hand. Lauren stepped around him cautiously and entered the station.

Less than a dozen people sat in the waiting area, their suitcases placed securely between their feet. The bored ticket clerk informed Lauren, when she asked, that the bus from Charleston should be on time. Half an hour later she watched the bus pull in. Two men stepped off, followed by her barely recognizable sister and a young girl with large, dark eyes and straight black hair.

Cathy wore a faded red blouse and a black skirt. The skirt stretched tightly across her hips and ended inches too short for her chubby frame. Her hair was a harsh, dirty yellow shade not found in Nature’s color spectrum. She looks like a down-on-her-luck hooker, Lauren thought, with a twinge of guilt.

Jennifer, however, could have been a poster child for innocence.

The driver manhandled luggage from the storage compartment on the side of the bus as Lauren took a deep breath and pushed through the glass door to the outside. Cathy saw her and ran awkwardly toward her, hampered by the snug skirt. She dropped her scarred suitcase, captured Lauren in a tight bear hug, then held her at arms’ length. “Lauren! You look great . . . still so petite and cute!”

The stale smell of unwashed hair and body assailed Lauren’s nostrils. She could think of nothing polite to say. She finally settled on, “Well, you made it.”

Jennifer held back timidly. Lauren stepped forward and hugged the girl. “You’ve grown up since I last saw you.”

Jennifer blushed. Her lips curved upward in a hesitant smile.

“She’s a little shy at first,” Cathy said. “but when she loosens up, she’ll talk your ears off.”

“Are we ready? Got everything?” Lauren asked, seeing only two suitcases.

Cathy nodded. “We travel light, Sis.”

Lauren led them to her car and stowed the bags in the trunk. Jennifer folded her long legs into the back seat. Cathy slid in up front with Lauren. “Nice car,” Cathy said, running her hand across the dashboard.

“Thanks,” Lauren said, checking for traffic and pulling away from the curb. She had barely reached the end of the block when Cathy dug in her purse, fished out a slightly bent cigarette, and lit it. A white fog of smoke surrounded Lauren. She coughed.

“Bother you?” Cathy asked.

“Actually, yes . . . I’m sort of allergic.”

Instead of snuffing the fuming cigarette out, Cathy cranked her window down two inches and took another drag. Not five minutes and my first problem with Cathy has arisen, Lauren noted. In the rear view mirror, Lauren saw Jennifer fanning smoke away from her face. Their eyes met. Jennifer shrugged and rolled her eyes heavenward. “How far to your apartment, Aunt Lauren?”

“Just call me Lauren, okay, hon? Unless you want me to call you ‘Niece Jennifer’,” Lauren joked. “It isn’t far. But I don’t have an apartment. I bought a house a couple years ago.”

“Must be making good money?” Cathy said with a question in her tone.

Having no intention of discussing her finances with Cathy, Lauren said, “The real estate market was soft, and I found an anxious seller. I got it for several thousand below market value.”

Cathy gave Lauren a confused look, not certain if her question had been answered. It was a look Lauren remembered seeing on Cathy’s face a lot when they were younger.

Cathy flipped her cigarette out the window, leaving a scattering of gray ash on the upholstery. Lauren’s hands tightened on the steering wheel.

Even in the back seat, Jennifer felt the tension in the air.