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Adam's father raised his bushy brows. "What young man? Where's your car? It's not outside."
"I don't have a young man. Come in, Dad."
Seth Llewellyn turned to Mrs. Kasselbaum with a frown. "What young man? Where's her car?"
Mrs. Kasselbaum leaned forward conspiratorially. "She came home with a man. Tall, clean-cut, very handsome. Blond hair, size forty-eight long, brown eyes. I know nothing about her car."
Je
Seth didn't even glance Je
Mrs. Kasselbaum looked up, batting her eyelashes. Mrs. Kasselbaum had a thing for Adam's father, a widower for as long as Je
Seth laughed. "Go on with you, now." He leaned a little closer toward Mrs. Kasselbaum, only encouraging her further. "And how long did he stay?"
Je
"Sixteen minutes," Mrs. Kasselbaum answered, nodding emphatically.
Seth pursed his lips. "Only sixteen minutes?"
Mrs. Kasselbaum shrugged her thin shoulders and sighed dramatically. "I can only tell what I see." She raised a superior gray brow at Je
"Oh, for heaven's sake," Je
Seth was instantly contrite. "Why didn't you say so, young lady?" He waved a fast good-bye at the disappointed Mrs. Kasselbaum and hurried inside where he put his hands on his hips. "What happened to your ankle? Who was the young man? And where is your car?"
Je
Seth winced. "Forty is ancient."
"You know what I mean."
"Does this forty-year-old father of a high school senior have a name?"
"His name is Steven Thatcher. I called him for a conference and when we met he accidentally knocked me down and I twisted my ankle. He felt badly and brought me home."
Seth looked alarmed. "Your car's still in the school parking lot? We shouldn't leave it there over the weekend-I'll drive over and get it." He turned for the door and Je
"Dad, wait." He stopped and turned, his expression expectant. Je
"The car's fine, Dad." He breathed a sigh of relief. "But the tires were slashed today."
His whole body tensed. "How?"
Je
Seth sat next to her on the couch. "I'm not worried about the car."
Je
"Okay," he amended. "I was a little worried about the car."
Je
Seth smiled and shook his head. "Such a mouth on you, girl." His smile faltered. "Such grandchildren the two of you would have made."
Je
Seth swallowed. "Me, too, Je
She patted his arm and for the second time that day tried to remember Adam as he'd been when he was healthy. For the second time that day she failed. She pushed herself to her feet, suddenly feeling guilty for having sexual thoughts about Steven Thatcher when she couldn't even remember Adam's face clearly. The guilt was irrational. She knew it in her head. But that made no difference to her heart. There was, of course, one primary solution for guilt. "I was going to have ice cream for di
"You really need to have better nutrition, Je
"It's Rocky Road."
Seth pushed her hair behind her ear and smiled. Looking into his kind face, so like Adam's, Je
Je
Seth's arms came around her, hard and strong. "Love you, too, Je
Je
Chapter Seven
Friday, September 30, 8:30 P.M.
"Steven, you need to eat," Helen said from the kitchen doorway.
Steven set his briefcase by the front door and followed his aunt to the kitchen where a single hot plate of food waited. Helen poured herself a cup of coffee and sat in the chair across from him.
"Eat."
A ghost of a smile pulled at his mouth at the barked command. "Yes'm." Dutifully he ate while she watched, her eagle eye trained on every bite he put in his mouth.
"You were late tonight," she observed, her voice gone softer.
He nodded, swallowing. "I had an appointment with one of Brad's teachers."
"Oh, dear."
"Yeah." His fork drew an aimless design in his gravy-laden mashed potatoes. He looked up to find Helen patiently waiting. "He's failing chemistry, Helen. His teacher wanted me to know."
Helen closed her eyes and sighed. "What's happening to our boy, Steven?"
He kneaded his browbone. "I don't know. Je
"And will you?"
"I'll call him first thing Monday morning." He shrugged, feeling utterly helpless and hating the feeling. "I tried to talk to Brad, but he shut me out."
"I know." Helen reached across the table to squeeze his hand and they held on quietly until she asked, "So who is Je
Steven's fingers tightened on his fork. His face was turning red, he could feel it. He damned the involuntary response that was the curse of redheads and he damned the light that came on in his aunt's matchmaking eyes. He pulled his left hand from Helen's. "Brad's teacher," he muttered, dropping his eyes to his potatoes.
"I see."
"No, you don't see anything, Helen," he ground out. "She is a nice woman who cares about my son. She stayed late on a Friday afternoon to tell me he was failing her class. That's all."