Читать книгу A Baby for Mummy - Cathy Gillen Thacker - Страница 8

Emily only wished Dan had thoroughly filled her in before she’d accepted this gig. If he had, she would have known this was the kind of situation that tugged on her heartstrings. And hence, one she should avoid. Now, more than ever…

“Mom’s in Africa,” Tommy blurted out.

“Keep up, will you?” Ava scolded, shoving her glasses up on the bridge of her nose. “That was last week. She’s in China this week.”

“Whatever.” Tommy shrugged, edging toward the back door again. “The point is, she’s not here. She’s never here.”

Kayla picked at the rainbow-colored volcano she had built with her modeling clay. “Yeah, we wish she would come back to see us ’cause we miss having a mommy.”

Walt grimaced. “My niece is a physician for the International Children’s Medical Service, or ICMS.”

Which meant, Emily concluded, that Dan had full custody of their brood, with all the attendant joys and problems. As well as his ex-wife’s great-uncle. This was an interesting situation.

Dan paused, his expression filled with remorse. “I’m sorry if I wasn’t clear about that.”

Emily slowly exhaled, belatedly wishing she hadn’t asked a question that had upset the whole clan. On the other hand…what did the former Mrs. Kingsland’s ongoing neglect of her kids have to do with her? Nothing, she reassured herself firmly, since she didn’t expect to be here very long at all. This was Dan’s dilemma—not hers!

Kayla tugged on Dan’s sweater. “Dad, I need dinner now!”

Appearing frustrated he hadn’t made any strides toward solving his problem, Dan silenced the complaining with a motion of his palm. “Fine. We’ll order pizza.”

“Not again!” the two older kids said in unison.

Dan sent Emily a look as if to say, See what I’m dealing with here?

Kayla stomped her foot. “But I’m really, really hungry!” she wailed as tears pooled in her eyes.

“It’ll take at least an hour to get here at this time on a Friday night,” Ava predicted with a beleaguered sigh.

Once a problem solver, always a problem solver, Emily thought. “How about I just whip something up?” She figured she and Dan could talk and consult while she cooked. Then she’d be able to take her paycheck and exit, before she got hopelessly enmeshed in the ongoing family drama.

“Uh…that could be a problem,” Dan said.

Walt nodded. “We haven’t had a chance to go to the grocery store yet.”

“We only go on the weekends,” Kayla said.

Emily knew people generally had more in the pantry than they thought. “Just let me have a look.” She opened the fridge and realized she had her work cut out for her. They were right—pickings were meager. “I can handle it,” she said confidently.

“How long is it going to take?” Kayla asked, pouting.

Emily was already assembling ingredients on the counter. “Twenty minutes.”

“That’s faster than we could get a pizza,” Dan enthused with a grateful glance her way.

Happy a meltdown had been avoided, at least for the moment, Emily took charge. “In the meantime I need everyone to sit down with a pen and paper, and make a list of your favorite foods, along with everything you dislike, as well.”

Kayla began stuffing her modeling clay back into the airtight storage containers. “Daddy, can you write mine down?”

“Will do,” Dan promised.

Walt scrounged in the drawer next to the phone for pens. The older two kids sat down at the kitchen table. Emily filled a big pot with water and set it on to boil. Meanwhile, she chopped up half a pound of bacon into bite-size pieces and put all in a skillet to brown.

“What are we having?” Tommy looked suspicious.

Emily knew that to tell would only invite criticism and argument. “It’s a surprise,” she said with a firm smile. “Work on your lists.”

Ava frowned and looked at her dad. “Can she do that?”

Dan shrugged. “Looks like she already is. Come on, everybody. This is your one chance to have a say in what we’re going to have for future dinners around here.”

His logic worked. Everyone got down to business, thinking, writing, thinking some more. By the time Emily put a heaping platter of spaghetti carbonara, green beans with almonds and fruit salad on the center of the table, the pages were filled.

“Hey, that looks kind of good.” Tommy surveyed the fragrant pasta, sprinkled liberally with Parmesan cheese.

Kayla smiled. “Fruit salad is my favorite.”

“It smells incredible,” Walt said.

Dan held out a chair. “Sit down with us, please, Emily.”

She hesitated. Wasn’t this how she’d gotten into trouble before? By blurring the line between hired chef and family friend? “It’s not—”

“Typical, I know.” Dan’s smile was as kind as it was chivalrous. “But these aren’t usual circumstances.”

Emily still would have refused had it not been for the growling in her tummy and the fact that she knew she must no longer skip meals or eat at odd hours. For the next year and a half, she had to be as conscientious about her diet as she’d been the past six months. The future of her own family was riding on that. “All right,” she said gratefully. “But as soon as we’re done eating, it’s right back to business.”

The serving platters were passed around, and then all was silent as the kids dug in. Ten minutes later there wasn’t a speck of food left on the table, and Emily had made plenty.

“Wow!” Dan sat contentedly back in his chair.

Walt agreed. “Incredible.”

“I didn’t think I’d like that, but it was really good,” Tommy said.

Ava smiled. “I liked it, too.” She bolted from her chair. “Anyone want coffee?”

Dan and Walt nodded.

They didn’t know how good that sounded, Emily thought wistfully. But seeing the label of the can, Emily had to decline. Caffeine was among the things she had to avoid these days, too. “Thanks. No.”

“So are you going to come and cook for us all the time?” Kayla propped her chin on her upraised hand and searched Emily’s face. “‘Cause I would be really, really, really happy if you did.”

FOR A SECOND, DAN NOTED, Emily looked almost tempted. Then she seemed to catch herself. A hint of sadness and regret flashed in her eyes. “Oh, honey…” she began.

Dan knew she was about to decline.

Across the room, a burst of salsa music radiated from inside her shoulder bag.

Emily rose in relief, all business once again. “I apologize, but I’m really going to have to get that. I’ve been waiting for a call from my Realtor all day.” Phone to her ear, Emily ducked out of the kitchen gracefully and walked toward the front foyer.

“You kids are on for dishes,” Dan said. “Kayla, you clear, Ava, load the dishwasher, Tommy, wipe down the table and counters and take out the trash.”

For once, there was no grumbling as the kids rose from the table. Maybe, Dan surmised, it was because they were all full, and hence, content—at least as far as their tummies went. Emotionally, well, it was hard to fix the absence of a mom in their lives without getting involved again, and that was something he did not want to do. His life was too complicated and busy as it was.

From the hall, Emily’s voice rose in agitation.

“They can’t do that, can they? I just got the okay on my mortgage application!” She sounded distraught. “Of course I can’t match that! At least tell me who did this. Tex Ostrander!”

Who was Tex? Dan wondered.

Obviously the guy had some emotional connection to Emily.

Abruptly her voice cut off. Became calm and professional. “Yes. I understand. I’ll talk to you in a few days.”

“Wonder what’s happening there?” Tommy asked beneath his breath.

Dan wondered, too, as did everyone else in his family.

Emily strode back into the kitchen. Tears of frustration glimmered in her eyes. “Sorry about that,” she said in a choked voice. “I just got some really bad news.” She rubbed her hand across her forehead. “Would you mind if I took your lists home tonight, studied them…and then came back again to talk to you about my suggestions?”

“Of course it’s fine.” Dan moved toward her. “I’ll walk you out.”

He waited until they reached her car, then said, “Is there anything I can do?”

Her lower lip trembling, Emily leaned against her van and turned her glance away. “Not unless you can magically buy back the Fredericksburg orchard my family owned when I was growing up.” Sighing, she pushed her hand through her mahogany hair and turned her gaze to his, clearly needing to vent. “It went up for sale a few months ago. As soon as I heard, I talked to the owners. Told them I wanted it, put some earnest money down and started saving for the full down payment.”

Emily swallowed and gestured ineffectually. “I mean, I knew technically that, until I secured a mortgage and made the full down payment, the owners could still receive a higher bid, though I had the right to match it—it’s written into their contract with me. But I didn’t really think someone would come along and offer to pay in cash—never mind my ex-fiancé!” she finished, enraged.

Dan blinked. “Your ex-fiancé just bought the orchard out from under you?”

Emily clamped her arms in front of her, the action delineating the fullness of her breasts. “He outbid me by ten percent.”

Dan studied her defensive posture. “You can’t match his bid?”

“Unfortunately, no.” Emily moved away from the van and began to pace, her hips moving provocatively beneath the loose-fitting black trousers. “I was stretching it as it was.”

Silence fell between them.

Clearly still struggling to get her emotions under control, Emily rubbed at the bridge of her nose. “The good news is since my contract with the owner is now null and void, I’ll get my earnest money back, but I’m out an orchard and a mortgage application fee.”

Dan held her gaze. “Why would he do that?”

Emily threw up her hands. “I don’t know. I haven’t seen Tex Ostrander since we broke up, and that was ten years ago.”

“He knew you were buying the place?” Dan prodded, remembering how soft and silky her hands felt, despite the fact she worked with them all day.

Emily scowled and gave Dan a measuring glance. “Apparently his parents are retiring and he’s decided to buy them out and move back to the area, too. If he owns both properties—the two orchards are located side by side—he’ll have the biggest peach crop in the area.”

And that was saying something, Dan knew, since Fredericksburg, Texas, was famous for its stellar peach crop.

Dan closed the distance between them. “So what does this mean about your move back to the area where you grew up?”

“I don’t know.” Emily exhaled in frustration. “My Realtor said I’m still approved for a mortgage and the bank has agreed to transfer that approval to another property.”

Dan hated to see anyone lose out on a dream—particularly a deeply held one. “Maybe you could purchase another orchard,” he suggested kindly.

Her lips parted as she looked up at him. “There aren’t any other orchards for sale in the area, and besides, I didn’t want any of those—I wanted the one my parents owned when I grew up.” She kicked at the concrete drive with the toe of her boot, and Dan tried not to notice how nice she looked in profile. “I had plans to bring it back to its former glory. To…Well, never mind. It’s not going to happen now.” Her voice rang with disappointment. She fell silent, a morose expression on her face.

Wishing he had a way to comfort her, Dan asked, “So what now?”

Emily sighed. “It puts my plans to leave Fort Worth on hold for now. Which really sucks. Because it’s the holidays, and thinking I’d be in the hill country, I turned down all these gigs I could have had.”

Dan knew that catering businesses thrived during the holiday season. “There’s still one you could have,” he said. He resisted the urge to take her hand in both of his. “And I promise you, it will pay better than you ever dreamed.”

“YOU OFFERED HER A JOB, just like that?” Walt said later that same evening when Dan filled him in on what had transpired. “Without doing a background check and getting references?”

Dan loved his ex-wife’s uncle. He’d been a lifesaver the past couple years—but sometimes his negativity rankled. “Stop thinking like a private investigator.”

Walt looked up from the game of Internet chess he was playing. “I’m the first to admit that the meal she made was wonderful. But we’re talking about your kids here. Your home.”

Dan frowned at the thought of any delay in getting things back on track at mealtime. “She was great with the kids.”

As by the book as ever, Walt countered, “At least have her fill out an application—and let me talk to some of the people she’s worked for in the past.”

“First of all, Grady’s wife has already vouched for her character. Apparently Emily has regularly catered events for the company where Alexis works. Her terrific performance is what led Grady to hire Emily for the lunch yesterday. Second, I don’t think Emily has done a job like this before.”

“The point is—” Walt’s brow furrowed as he took in his Internet opponent’s next move “—you don’t know.”

Dan recalled Emily’s enviable ability to bring serenity even to the chaos that had ensued upon her arrival. “I don’t want to blow it. Dinner tonight was the first conflict-free meal we’ve had in years around here.”

Walt made his move with a thoughtful scowl. “Still not enough reason to hire Ms. Stayton without due diligence.”

“Walt, I appreciate your sentiments. As a private investigator, you’ve seen things I could never even imagine. But I trust Emily Stayton.” On a gut level, Dan amended silently. “And the decision is made. I want her to be our cook. Not a housekeeper, just our personal chef, for however long we can manage to get her.” Hopefully in the interim he’d be able to figure out how to get Emily to come to work for them full-time. “And I don’t want you doing anything to interfere with that.”

Walt turned his attention back to the computer screen. “You ask me,” he grumbled, “you’re making a mistake.”

“I didn’t ask,” Dan stated flatly.

Still, he couldn’t help thinking about it as the night wore on.

He couldn’t explain it. He just knew, on some deep fundamental level, that Emily Stayton was The One to help solve his family’s problems. And Dan never discounted his instincts when they were that strong.

EMILY HAD PROMISED TO CONTINUE the consultation at nine Saturday morning. She arrived right on time. Dan went to answer the door and found her standing on the porch, much as she had the evening before—with one difference. Instead of looking pink-cheeked and healthy, she looked a little green around the gills.

“Are you okay?” Dan asked.

Emily swallowed hard, waved a vague hand, even as she moved past him. “It’ll pass.”

What will pass? “Are you sick?”

“Oh. No. I…I…Bathroom?” Her words were more a command for direction than a request.

Able to see what was about to happen, Dan hastened down the hall and opened the door. “In here.”

Simultaneously hitting the light and the fan, she barreled past him and slammed the door. The unmistakable sounds of retching followed.

The kids came tromping down the stairs at the commotion. “What’s going on?”

“Is someone…?”

“Ohhh.” Tommy, Ava and Kayla looked at one another in recognition.

“Go upstairs,” Dan ordered. “I’ll call you.”

They bolted, as was usually the case, when illness that might involve icky cleanup was involved.

“See?” Walt said, passing with his stiff-hipped gait. “You don’t know everything about her. For all you know, she’s got a problem that will leave her unable to do mornings—”

“Actually…” The door opened and Emily stepped out, still looking pale and shaky. She leaned weakly against the door frame. “Walt could be right.”

Walt looked at Dan. “I’ll leave you to handle this.” He went into the study and shut the door behind him.

Dan guided her into the kitchen and onto a stool at the counter. “Can I get you something?” he solicited kindly. “Water? Stomach med?”

Emily regarded him gratefully. “Maybe a glass of ginger ale or a soda cracker if you have it,” she said.

Dan paused.

Their eyes met.

As he worked to fulfill her request, he began to put two and two together.

“I’m pregnant,” Emily said, flashing a guilty-as-charged smile.

Hence the loose-fitting shirts she wore, the fullness of her breasts in comparison to her slender figure.

“Congratulations!” Dan handed her a ginger ale and pack of crackers.

“Thanks.” She ripped open the wax paper and extracted a cracker.

“How far along are you?”

She munched and sipped. “Almost four months.”

“Who’s the lucky guy?”

Her blue eyes glinted with unexpected humor. “76549823-CBGT.”

Dan blinked. “You hooked up with a robot?”

Emily’s melodious laugh filled the kitchen. Her soft lips parted as she prepared to take another sip of her ginger ale.

“A sperm bank. All I know about my baby’s daddy is that he has an IQ over 140 and is Caucasian, blond, greeneyed and tall. And of course has no major inherited health problems I’d have to worry about.”

Dan had lots of questions. None of which would have been polite to ask.

“I’m thirty-five, my eggs aren’t getting any younger, and I wanted a family. The luck of the draw wasn’t working—I just never met anyone I wanted to settle down with.”

“Except Tex Ostrander.” Dan recalled the name of the guy who had caused her so much grief the night before.

Emily’s lips thinned. “Don’t remind me. I’m still mad at him.”

She didn’t appear to still have romantic feelings for her ex. Although why that should matter to him, Dan didn’t know. “Did you talk to him?” he asked casually, forcing himself to move on.

“No.” Looking to be bouncing back from her bout of morning sickness, Emily leaned her spine against the back of the stool. “Although, not surprisingly, he called me several times. But back to the job you offered me last night—I’ve been thinking about it and I can’t commit to a permanent family gig. It just wouldn’t work out for a lot of reasons,” she stated firmly. “But I could help you out on a temporary basis—until I have a chance to get some other chef gigs lined up.”

This, Dan hadn’t expected. He studied the new color in her cheeks and the professional competence in her eyes. “How temporary?”

“I was thinking through Thanksgiving. That would give me time to figure out what the problems are with mealtime around here—from a cooking perspective.”

Maybe there weren’t any, Dan thought. Maybe all they needed was a woman in the house again. “There wasn’t a problem last night,” he said.

Emily disregarded her success. “That was an anomaly. They were caught off guard. They were hungry. Someone set a table of hot food in front of them.”

“Hot delicious food,” Dan corrected.

Finding his mouth dry, he poured himself a glass of ginger ale, too.

“Whatever.” Emily waved off the distinction. She rested both her forearms on the breakfast bar and leaned in deliberately. “The point is, these complex family issues are not going to be resolved just because I’ve showed up.”

Trying not to be distracted by the fragrance of orange blossoms and the silk of her hair that fell seductively over her shoulder, he lounged against the opposite counter. “I think you’re selling yourself short.”

She mocked him with a waggle of her brows. “And I think you’re minimizing the problem,” she teased. “But we digress—”

Dan frowned in confusion. “Do we?”

Her gaze was completely serious now. “You haven’t said if you would be okay with the fact that I’m pregnant,” she pointed out softly.

Dan’s glance moved involuntarily to the slight swell of her tummy beneath the blue-and-lavender paisley tunic before returning to her face. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I’m unmarried.”

And incredibly sexy, and likely to be even sexier in a deeply maternal way as your pregnancy progresses…

“You have impressionable children,” she added.

And I’ve had thoughts about kissing you…

He shrugged. “You’re a responsible adult.”

Emily raked her teeth across her soft lower lip. “Not everyone approves of what I’m doing.”

Dan enjoyed the experience of being there with her, the pair of them talking with the familiar intimacy of two people who’ve known each other for years, instead of mere hours. He reassured her with a look. “Not everyone approves of divorce, either. Stuff happens.” Old dreams fade. New ones take their place. “As far as I’m concerned, congratulations are still in order.”

“Thank you.” Emily smiled. “Do you think my pregnancy will bother Walt?”

Dan sidestepped the question as best he could. “He’s crotchety.”

Her eyes glimmered. She knew there was more. “Meaning?” she prompted.

Candor was something he could not provide. Not yet, anyway. “You don’t work for him. You work for me,” Dan said, and left it at that.

Emily surveyed Dan warily. “Is there something else I should know?”

Besides the fact that Walt doesn’t trust anyone until a thorough background check proves that person is trust-worthy? Dan mused. “Not a thing.”

ONCE EMILY HAD fully recovered from her bout of morning sickness, they decided to get right down to business. “There’s a couple ways we could approach this problem,” she told the family gathered around the kitchen table.

“We’re not going to be able to solve it,” Tommy interrupted, evidencing the same lack of teamwork he had the night before.

Dan gave his son a stern look.

“No offense,” Tommy continued, hands raised, “but none of us like the same stuff.”

Emily knew sugarcoating the problems would not solve anything. They needed to examine their differences together before a remedy could be found.

“That’s true, although you all seemed to like last night’s dinner,” Emily said. “Anyway, according to your lists, Kayla prefers mainly breakfast foods like pancakes, French toast, eggs, cereal and so on. Ava’s into coffee, chocolate and salads. Tommy wants high protein and electrolytes. Dan wants anything everyone will eat. And Walt, given his choice, is a meat-and-potatoes man.”

“It doesn’t sound like we have anything in common.” Ava sighed.

“Sure we do,” Dan interrupted sternly. “We’re all Kingslands.”

“Uncle Walt isn’t—his last name is Smith,” Ava pointed out studiously.

Eager to join in, Kayla put her crayon down and piped up with, “Emily isn’t one, either!”

“That’s right.” Emily struggled to contain control of the family meeting. “I’m not. My last name is Stayton. It was good of you to notice that, Kayla.”

Kayla beamed.

“Back to the problem,” Emily said. “I can come up with menus that will please each of you. And I could make enough to feed you for several days if you wanted to eat the same thing every night, reheated.”

“Leftovers?”

“I don’t really like leftovers.”

“Me, neither.”

“Or we could draw straws to go first and take turns by night,” she suggested. “That way everyone would have at least one night a week where their favorite meal was served.”

The kids appeared to be thinking about this option.

“Or I could try to put one thing that everyone likes in each menu. This might make for some odd combinations. Spaghetti and scones, for instance.”

All the kids made faces.

“Or we could do something a little less mundane,” Emily said, more or less making it up as she went. “We could try eating a lot of new dishes from around the world. Maybe make some of the foods that your mom might be eating in her travels. We could even ask her what her favorite dishes are from some of her favorite places and try that.”

The kids looked receptive to that idea. Dan did not.

“I think we should stick to the tried-and-true at first,” Dan said.

The kids’ enthusiasm faded and they went silent.

“If that means meat and potatoes, sounds good to me,” Walt said with a shrug.

“SORRY ABOUT THAT,” Emily said a short time later as Dan walked her to her van. “I didn’t know you had a problem with international cuisine.”

Normally Dan did not discuss his relationship with his ex-wife. Whatever went on between him and Brenda was between him and Brenda. But since Emily was going to be working so closely with his family, he figured she had a right to know. “I don’t encourage the kids to try and keep up with their globe-trotting mother.”

Emily looked shocked. “Why not? Surely she has e-mail and phone service.”

“She does. She’s just not good about using it for personal reasons. Sometimes weeks or months go by without a word from her.”

“Ava knew where she was.”

“Because Brenda put the two older kids on the listserve that alerts her colleagues to her whereabouts. Getting a mass e-mail every time your mother boards a plane is not the same as having personal contact with her.”

Emily appeared to mull that over. “And the lack of personal contact upsets the kids.”

“It’s always hard when a parent lets you down.”

She nodded, for the moment really seeming to understand. Which in turn made Dan wonder what disappointments she had weathered in her life.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” she said finally.

“Anyway,” he said, “Brenda is scheduled to come home between Christmas and New Year’s. Hopefully nothing will get in the way of that. Meanwhile, if we could just work on getting us on track to civilized family meals, I would appreciate it.”

For the first time Emily looked uncertain. “I’m no miracle worker.”

“You wouldn’t have known that last night.”

“Well, just so you know, I’m not here to step in and cater to their every gastronomic whim.”

Dan knew that what he’d asked of her was unusual. In his estimation, that unusualness was what had made that dinner so great. “The thing is, we’re not the kind of family who has servants waiting on us. I don’t want that kind of atmosphere for my kids.”

Emily tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “Then what do you want?”

“Have you ever taught a cooking class?”

“Yes.”

“Well, you know how, at the end of a cooking class, the chef usually sits down with the class to enjoy the food with the people she’s teaching? I’m interested in creating that same convivial mood for my family during the dinner hour. Unfortunately it’s something they’ve never really had. Even before the divorce, the meals at our house were always catch as catch can. So it’s going to be like working with a group of beginners.”

Sensing she was a woman who liked thinking outside the box as much as he did, Dan continued, “The point is, I’m not asking you to make a meal and serve it to us in the formal dining room. I’m asking you to create a warm, relaxed atmosphere during the meal preparation, so the kids are free to come in and out and ask questions or just hang out if they want. And if they so choose, they can learn how to cook from you. During the meal, I want you to sit down and eat with us—the way you would if you were a family friend who’d come over to help out in a pinch.”

Emily made a face. “But I’d still be an employee.”

“Only technically. As far as the kids are concerned, you are a friend of my friends Grady and Alexis McCabe, and you’ve agreed to help us with dinner, using your skills as a personal chef and cooking instructor.” Just to be sure she knew he was serious, he named a salary that caused her eyes to widen. And still, he noted in disappointment, no sale…

“While I appreciate your offer,” she said, “cooking at the same home day in and day out is not something I choose to do anymore.”

“So you’ve worked for a single client before.”

“For a few years, right after I left restaurant work. But I switched to catering small events in different venues because it was more my style.”

Dan suddenly had the feeling she was holding back. Was Walt right? Was there more he should know about Emily before bringing her into his home? He decided it didn’t matter. He wanted peace in his family—now—and she was the only person who could deliver it.

“Look, just give us a couple of weeks and get us through the Thanksgiving holiday,” he persuaded. They both knew she had no other work lined up. And this would give her an income while she regrouped.

“Fine,” Emily said reluctantly. “But the first order of business is groceries. You need a lot of staples, Dan.”

So he gathered. “You want to give me a list?”

“Actually I’d like to do the shopping myself—unless you’re an ace at picking out produce and know the difference between baking soda and baking powder.”

“They’re not the same?”

Emily winced. “No. They are not.”

Dan grinned at her comical expression. “When can you start?”

“I can purchase groceries and fix dinner for you this evening.”

Dan couldn’t think of a better way to spend his Saturday.

“I don’t work Sundays,” Emily cautioned.

“What about Monday? Do you hire out for breakfast, as well?”

“How about we just do dinners to begin with?” Emily returned.

Dan knew he’d been pushing it, even getting this far. “Okay,” he agreed. “What can I do to help?”

Emily rummaged through her purse for her keys. “Just be here this afternoon around four to let me in, so I can get dinner started.”

That, Dan thought, sounded better than she knew.