Читать книгу Naughty Or Nice - Sherri Browning Erwin - Страница 11

While Kate was out picking the kids up from school, a knock sounded at the front door. My heart leapt. Nick Angelos? He’d come back to see me so soon?

“Just a minute,” I called out from the couch as I debated if I should shout for him to let himself in or make a good show of limping over to answer. With Kate’s help, I’d changed out of my suit to my shlumpy sweats and a tee. Better to stay on the couch. I fluffed my hair, licked my lips, and called out a seductive “come in.”

The door opened slowly, as if he hesitated, unsure. Suddenly I didn’t want to look the overeager one. I leaned back into the couch, my best Sleeping Beauty pose, eyes closed but not quite asleep. I imagined him approaching and kissing me fully awake. A little role play never hurt in a relationship.

The floorboards creaked with the approaching footfalls. Closer, closer. I breathed slowly, making sure my lips were plumped out, tempting. He stopped right over me. Should I open my eyes, say hello? Or wait for him to get the hint?

“Ugh!” Something hit me solidly in the chest, something small enough not to hurt much but big enough to make me jump. I opened my eyes. “What the—”

“Your keys.” Josh Brandon stood over me, a small crooked smile on his lips. “Who did you expect? Prince Charming?” With his Boston accent, it came out “chahming.”

He laughed. Laughed! At me.

I picked keys out of my cleavage and sat up. “I was resting my ankle. Remember? I kind of got hurt at your work site. Maybe I should sue?”

“Yeah. That’s going to happen. You’re gonna sue your new employer? I don’t think so, Princess.” Without waiting for an invitation, he plunked down in the opposite armchair. “Congratulations, by the way. Leslie told me the good news. So, how’s your ankle?”

Maybe it was the way the hulking brute took up the entire chair, legs spread, no concern for the Andrew Martin fabric or delicacy of the English wingback-style frame. Or perhaps it was the way he’d made air quotes with his thick workman’s fingers when he’d said “good” news. Or the simple fact that he laughed at me upon entry. Whatever it was, Josh Brandon made my blood boil. “My ankle’s fine. Just fine, thank you.”

“You went for X-rays? The doctor said it was fine?”

“I didn’t need X-rays.” I shrugged. “Nick Angelos took care of me.”

He huffed loudly, as if annoyed, and ran his hands through his shock of prematurely gray hair. “He’s a doctor now, too, is he? Along with his other lofty credentials? Philanthropist, entrepreneur, architectural engineer.”

I sat up straighter. “You really don’t like him, do you?” Apparently Nick and I were two of a kind, both having earned the Josh Brandon stamp of disapproval.

“Nah, it’s not that.” Josh stared across the room at the framed prints of my family lining the staircase, or into space. He didn’t seem particularly focused. “Never mind. So, your car’s out front now, if you need it. I didn’t think it would be safe on the street near the site all night.”

Instantly, I was flooded with a mix of gratitude and remorse. “My keys! That’s right. Thank you. Thanks so much. That was really nice of you. But—what about your car?”

“Leslie’s borrowing it for the night. She’s got to drive up to check on her mom in Vermont.”

Leslie, a city dweller, relied on public transportation, but she needed wheels to get to her mother’s place. I remembered that Leslie’s mother had been going through treatment for breast cancer, bringing on a second wave of remorse. I’d been so focused on myself I hadn’t even thought to ask Leslie how her mom was doing. “How is her mother? Is everything okay?”

Josh finally stopped staring into the distance and met my gaze. The brightness of his silver-blue eyes made me blink a little in surprise. I’d forgotten how those eyes could penetrate, as if he could see right into me. He really did have amazing eyes, especially in contrast with the silver of his hair.

“She’s recovering,” he said, after a minute’s hesitation, as if he was trying to decide if I really cared about Leslie’s mother, or anyone other than myself. “They did the double mastectomy but nothing seems to have spread. Leslie’s spending the weekend up there with her.”

“So how are you getting home? If Leslie has your car and you brought my Lexus, then you need a ride?”

He shook his head and stood up, as if taking it as a cue to leave. “It’s a nice day for a walk.”

“Don’t be silly. You live miles from here.”

“Four miles. It’s no big deal.”

“And then for the weekend? You’ll be stuck.”

He looked surprised that I was even capable of giving any thought to someone else’s predicament. “I’ve got my bike.”

Yes, that fit. I could picture him as the leather-clad biker type. He probably spent his weekends at Harley bars surrounded by big-haired buxom types. I debated if I should repeat the offer of a ride or thank him again, and then became distracted by the image of Josh Brandon as tough guy biker tooling down the highway. To my imagination’s surprise, he looked pretty good in black leather.

I startled at the sound of the door opening. Kate came in, followed by an exuberant Sarah and a dark-haired smiling Spence, who looked miles apart from the sulky image he was so desperate to project. You couldn’t keep a good St. James down.

“Hey, gang.” Josh was first to greet them. He’d met the kids when we volunteered as a family earlier in the year. He knew Kate from a previous acquaintance. Ellie’s father. “Whoa, what happened to you?”

“I’m a Goth.” Spencer beamed and tossed his dark spikes of hair. “Cool, huh?”

“He’s doing it to impress a girl,” I added quickly. I wasn’t sure what Josh might think of Spence’s new look, but I didn’t need to give him more reason to criticize.

“Ah.” Josh nodded. “Did it work?”

“I think so. Shelley’s coming over to do homework tomorrow.”

“Well, all right, my man.” Josh did some kind of guy salute move, a fist in the air. “Good for you. And, Sarah? What’s new with you?”

Josh might have called me a princess, but he didn’t mess with Sarah. No “little lady” or “angel” or any of the girlie nicknames that drove her crazy, even though her delicate face and long red hair put most people in a girlie frame of mind. At last, I’d found something to appreciate in Josh. He had a seemingly innate sense of how to deal with my kids even though he’d only met them briefly on a previous occasion.

“I made the hockey team,” she said in a matter-of-fact way that did nothing to disguise the fact that it made her so proud. “We’ve got our first game in a few weeks.”

“Whoa, hockey. I love hockey. Would you mind if I came to watch a game now and then?”

“No problemo.” Sarah returned the fist salute that Josh had shared with Spence earlier. “So, Mom, Aunt Kate says you took a donkey. You okay?”

“I didn’t think Aunt Kate spoke in such colorful terms. But yeah, I’ll be fine. Just a little ankle twist. Where’d Kate go? She was just here.”

“She’s getting groceries out of the car,” Spencer said. “We’re dropping off our book bags and going back out to help her. Then we’ll be in our rooms, and out of your way.”

“More like out of the way of boring adult conversation.”

“That, too.” Spence smiled. “Good to see you again, Mr. Brandon.”

“Call me Josh. No need for formalities.”

“Later, Josh.” Sarah slapped him a high five and followed her brother out through the kitchen door.

A minute later, Kate came in accompanied by Bert and Ernie, two fawn pugs with nearly identical features. Sensing new blood, the ferocious duo wiggled their way over to Josh, where they proceeded to roll over for tummy rubs.

“My fierce protectors. They seem to have forgotten that immediately rolling over for intruders does not exactly establish their dominance.”

“They know an alpha dog when they see one,” Kate quipped.

“Hey, Kate.” Josh lifted his square masculine jaw by way of greeting.

Josh and Kate’s warm familiarity set my mind to work instantly. Did I sense some chemistry? My matchmaking skills, long dormant, sprang back into action. Josh and Kate? It had possibilities. Sure, she was seeing Marc Ramirez off and on, but it never hurt to play the field, so to speak. I took some pride in the fact that Marc, a linebacker for the Patriots, was actually one of my past fix-up attempts for Kate, from before she’d even hooked up with Owen Glendower and had Ellie. Not that I’d had anything to do with them hooking up again once Owen vanished from the scene, but I had introduced them. It counted for something.

“Hey.” She smiled big, as if Josh was her favorite new friend. “Thanks for bringing over the Lexus. I owe you one.”

I nearly fell off the couch. “You owe him one?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course. How do you think he got the keys?”

“So, on the way to pick up the kids—”

“I stopped by the Habitat site and asked Josh if he could drive your car over. Fortunately, he was willing.”

Josh smiled. The two of them shared a glance. “Kate, you know I’m always willing.”

Wait a minute. Kate asked Josh to drive my car over? Maybe she was beating me to the fix-up game. Turnabout was fair play. Was I rubbing off on her? Did she somehow see a future for me with, gulp, Josh Brandon? I looked from Josh to Kate and back again, trying to figure it out. No. I was being ridiculous. Kate hated matchmaking far too much to get wrapped up in it. And Josh? No way he was attracted to me. But then, he drew in close and knelt at my side, those blue eyes a gas flame burning into me.

“We’ve established that Nick Angelos says you’re fine, for what that’s worth.” Josh laughed. “But I’d like to have another look. Do you mind?”

“Look? At my ankle? You?” I tried to contain my gasp of surprise. Josh didn’t even like me. Kate, poor thing, was so bad at this sort of thing. Bless her for trying, but—why was he looking at me like that? Why did he even agree to bring my car over? What alternate universe had I ended up stumbling into? I remembered the gentleness of Josh’s touch after I’d first fallen and I knew I could at least trust him to make an assessment, yet why did I feel so cornered? “And what makes you any more qualified than Nick?”

His gaze steadily held mine. Unsettled, I looked away and sought his lips, which curled with amusement. He had nice lips, actually. Full, soft. Not as rough-looking as one might expect considering the time he spent in the sun. “Years of experience. I’ve seen all kinds of injuries through the years.”

“Hmm.” I contemplated his words, or rather, his lips as he formed them. “And you think you can heal me?”

“I’d like to try,” he said, and his words seemed to hold so much more meaning than a desire to fix my ankle. For a second, I looked at Josh and saw a man. Just a man, not the dictatorial construction foreman. But it passed just as quickly. It must have been my admiration for his well-formed mouth.

Silly of me, really. There was no way I could actually imagine even going on one date with Josh Brandon. No doubt his idea of romance would be to plunk me on the back of his bike, take me for a spin around the block, and stop off at his favorite bar for a few bee-ahs. Or maybe he was more into the whole Lady and the Tramp Italian dinner scenario, one plate of spaghetti, two meatballs. My gaze caught on that mouth and I had a sudden vivid image of being caught on opposite ends of the same strand of spaghetti.

“Whatever,” I said, to hide my blush, lifted my ankle outside the blanket, and tugged up the leg of my sweatpants to the knee. “Do your worst.”

“Only my best for you, Ben.” He winked before he turned his attention to the strips that bound my injury. “What’s this?”

“Nick’s shirt,” I said, flushing at the memory of his bare torso, those perfectly sculpted abs. “He ripped it to make bandages for me.”

Josh snickered. “Get real.”

“My thought exactly.” Kate joined the conversation, bringing cold drinks out from the kitchen, a sparkling water for me, a beer for Josh. “You should have seen him carrying Bennie across the room like a delicate heroine from a romance novel. Blech.”

“It was romantic.” I had to protest their disapprobation. “He was really sweet.”

“And shirtless.” Kate nodded. “Under a suit jacket. He looked like something straight out of Saturday Night Live. You know, those brothers that Chris Kattan and Will Ferrell used to do.”

Josh removed his fingers from my ankle as he boomed laughter. “The Butabi brothers. Night at the Roxy.”

“Yes!” Kate joined in. “Those morons. Ha!”

“More like Daniel Craig,” I said. “From Casino Royale. Or David Beckham.”

“Or Fabio.” Another wisecrack from Josh. More laughter from Kate.

“You just don’t like him.” I pulled my sweatpant leg back down.

“Who does? He swans around like he owns all of Boston, for God’s sake. Now, come on, I wasn’t done looking. Give me your leg.”

“What, so you can make fun of Nick’s gallant efforts again?”

“I’ll be nice. I promise. Let me look. I want to make sure you don’t have to go to a hospital.”

“All right,” I allowed, on a sigh, as I pulled my sweatpants back up to reveal my leg.

“Ellie still asleep?” Kate gestured to the baby monitor at my side.

“I hobbled up to check on her a little while ago and she was sleeping soundly. She lets out the occasional snore as if to reassure me that she’s not waking any time soon.”

“I’ll go check on her.” Kate excused herself, leaving me in Josh’s hands. Literally.

Again, Josh’s touch was light. When he looked up from his examination, he seemed genuinely amazed. “It looks great. How does it feel?”

“Better,” I said, eager to defend Nick’s efforts. “But it still hurts,” I added, enjoying the thought of an evening on the couch being waited on. It didn’t hurt at all, actually. It was as if nothing had happened. Kate returned with a still-sleepy Ellie in her arms.

“Unreal. I would have expected the bruising to last for weeks, but it’s nearly gone,” he said, over my head to Kate. “No more swelling. Maybe Nick did know what he was doing after all.”

He followed the assessment with a long swig of beer, as if the concession had left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Good,” I said, covering back up with the blanket. “I hate hospitals.”

Who didn’t? But the room grew quiet around me as if everyone silently acknowledged why hospitals might be worse for me than for the average bear. Kate had given birth to Ellie in a newfangled birthing center, keeping me a safe distance from the horrible place where my husband had died in my arms.

Oh. God. The thought took me by surprise. Not that I wasn’t used to random flashbacks of being with Patrick, of suddenly missing him, of bursting into tears unexpectedly. But lately, it had happened less often, and I’d started to think I had it all under control. And then, in a heartbeat, it all came back to me, flooding over me, threatening to drag me down into that desperate, dark, and swirling pool of grief all over again. I choked, gasping for breath, feeling as if I were about to drown.

Before I knew what was happening, Josh was on the couch beside me, cradling me in his big strong construction worker arms. “It’s okay, Bennie. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—just let it out. It’s okay to cry.”

“No, it’s not okay,” I said, breathing at last. In, out. In, out. “No. I thought—jeez, it’s been a year almost.”

“A year’s not really that much time,” Josh said. “You loved him.”

“Very much, yes.” Breathing became easier. As easy as it was to dissolve into grief, it had become that much easier to snap out of it. I wiped my face. “But I’m fine. Really. I’m sorry to scare you.”

“It takes a lot more than a woman’s tears to scare me,” Josh said, removing his arm from my shoulder. “But I’d better get going.”

Suddenly I felt very grateful to Josh Brandon. Most guys would have fled for the door the second I became hysterical. Not Josh. He’d jumped right in to comfort me. It was a nice quality. “Stay for dinner. We’re having lasagna.”

“Yes.” Kate hovered near the end of the couch. “We’ve got plenty. Marc’s coming over, too, so it will be fun. Just the four of us and the kids.”

“Marc’s coming?” Just when I thought it was safe to relax, I sensed a double date scenario brewing. No problem. I would just have to make sure the kids took center seats, creating some space between Josh and me. They would make up any lulls in conversation and remove any of those awkward moments that might pop up if I had any renewed reason to believe he was attracted to me.

“He called earlier and I couldn’t resist asking him. The Patriots play Monday night this week, and it’s a home game. Not that he’ll be on the field with his knee acting up, but he still has to make it an early night, the perfect night for staying in with family.”

He was practically family by now. What was I thinking to even consider fixing Kate up with Josh? I wondered when Kate was finally going to give in and get as serious about Marc as he obviously felt about her. She hadn’t gotten over Owen. Yet. But I could see it was only a matter of time. To Marc’s benefit, he was like a father to Ellie. He’d even beat my parents to the birthing center for her delivery.

And in this corner, Josh Brandon.

I sipped my water and wondered if Josh had ulterior motives or if he truly was just a guy having dinner with friends.

Marc arrived for dinner with a big bunch of wildflowers in tow. Score one for Marc.

“They’re beautiful! Thank you.” Kate kissed him on the cheek. I glanced at Josh. No reaction. He stared straight ahead in the direction of the fireplace.

A second later, Josh was on his feet to do the guy greeting thing, a handshake and slap on the arm. “How you doing, man?”

“Not too bad,” Marc said. “Hanging in there. You?”

“Eh. Hanging in there,” Josh said. Men were so creative with words.

“Busted ankle, huh? Tough break.” Marc leaned over and rumpled my hair.

I’d almost forgotten about it. “It’s feeling a little better now. I should be able to hobble over to the dinner table without much trouble.”

“That’s my girl. Taking one for the team. And where’s my favorite little lady?” Marc looked around for Ellie, found her playing with her toes in the baby seat, and scooped her up in his arms. “Oo-wee, touchdown. Kate, I’m taking her up to give her a change.”

“How long has it been since you’ve had a fire in the hearth?” Josh asked after a minute, as if the question had been on his mind for some time.

“Oh, a long time,” I answered cautiously. Josh wasn’t exactly acting the part of the romantic suitor, but it was too early to tell what he, or Kate, had in mind. “Patrick was allergic to burning wood, so I’ve put decorative candles in there. It’s something.”

“Something, but not the real thing. There’s nothing like a blazing fire on a cold winter’s night.”

“True. I do miss it, actually. We’d thought about converting it to gas.”

“Gas?” Josh wrinkled his nose in disgust. It was a fine nose, not too angular, slightly wide. An Irish nose, I decided. Like Patrick’s. “But then you don’t get the outdoorsy aroma. And the flames aren’t the same. No. You’ve got to stick with wood.”

“I don’t know how to light a fire.”

“Would you mind if I had a look? Not tonight, I mean, but I can come over next week, get a look at the chimney in daylight. Clean her out, get a fire lit.”

“You want to clean my chimney?” It sounded like a lot of work.

“I want to light your fire,” he said, and the gleam in his eye matched the spark of any blaze. My stomach flipped. Was that a line? Please tell me he wasn’t resorting to cheesy lines. But he clarified. “I don’t have a fireplace of my own. It would be nice to have a fire. If you don’t mind.”

Sigh of relief. Maybe he was just hot for my fireplace. “No, not at all. You can come over and play around with it. I’m not sure about where to get wood and supplies.”

“You free Tuesday? We can go out together. I know a good place for wood. A guy out in Natick, he cuts it himself. He can deliver it, for a price, but it’s cheaper if I bring my truck out and fill it up there. It’s a bit of a drive, but it’s pretty this time of year.”

“Yeah, sure,” I agreed. “Tuesday.” Tuesday. Nothing dangerous about heading out for firewood on a Tuesday, right? It wasn’t like it was a date. It wasn’t a date. Was it?

I made a mental note to make sure Kate was around on Tuesday. Safety in numbers. Just in case.

“Great, I’m going to go see if I can help your sister in the kitchen. How about I refresh your water while I’m up?” He reached for my glass.

I looked up and got lost in the blue of his eyes. It took me a minute to recover and speak. “Sure, but how about something stronger? There are some bottles of red in the kitchen, maybe a California cabernet?”

“California cab with lasagna? Are you kidding me?”

I rolled my eyes. Not another wine guy. Patrick would have said the same thing. “So, what do you suggest?”

“A nice throaty barolo.”

“I may have one of those. Feel free to look through the selection under the bar.” I gestured to the heavy, old-fashioned wood bar in the corner, a gift from Kate several Christmases ago that had delighted Patrick to no end. Maybe that was my problem with thinking of Josh as a romantic interest, that he reminded me a bit of Patrick. Or maybe it was the Italian wine. He was probably a fan of the North End, while I was more of a Southey kind of girl.

“Mmm. It all looks wonderful,” I said, looking over the bounty laid out on the table once I hobbled my way into the kitchen, embellishing a bit to maintain my status as the injured party. It wasn’t the usual spread I would have laid out for company, with my finer china and extra decorative touches, but Kate had used one of my nicer tablecloths to complement my everyday dishes, the heavy rustic earthenware. “Salad, too?”

“Courtesy of Josh.”

“Caesar is a specialty of mine,” he said proudly as he stopped filling glasses to dash over and help me to my seat at the head of the table. “I have a secret formula to make sure you get a crouton with every bite.”

I looked up, astounded. He had no idea that I had a similar secret formula, about which Kate teased me mercilessly. Kate and I exchanged a glance. Maybe I’d met my salad-making match.

Josh took the seat next to me, across from Kate, Ellie in her high chair, and Marc, who had put himself on baby duty for the evening to give Kate a break. The kids joined us and filled in the rest of the seats.

We passed around dishes, filled plates, and made comfortable conversation. The kids told us about their days. Josh complimented my lasagna, my mother’s recipe. I returned the compliments on his salad.

“If I’d known I was coming for dinner, I would have brought a loaf of my famous home-baked bread.”

I cocked a brow. “Right, like the kind you pick up at the store, stick in the oven for a few minutes, and voila, home-baked bread?”

His fork paused in the air, midway to his mouth. “Uh, maybe that’s what you do, Betty Crocker. I actually take the time to measure, mix, and knead.” He met my surprised stare with a shrug. “It’s therapeutic after a hard day on a construction site. Kneading is incredible stress relief.”

“I can’t believe you actually get home from a long day of building and bake bread,” I said, out loud, then wanted to kick myself for directing my stare to his strong, workingman hands. Thick fingers.

“Something about punching down dough just takes the edge right off.” He put down his fork and pounded a fist into his other open hand. “You should try it sometime.”

“Oh, I have. I can see that it might be therapeutic. But you just don’t seem the type.” I sipped my wine to chase away the image of Josh working dough with his hands, sleeves rolled up over muscular forearms.

“What type do I seem?”

“The biker bar type.” I laughed, thinking of my earlier image of leather-clad Josh knocking back a beer with a buxom blonde at his side. The wine had relaxed me and loosened my tongue.

“Ha!” He laughed. “Just call me Easy Rider.”

His eyes twinkled in the way that made me think of my birthstone, aquamarine. They held me rapt, the way the light refracted from his glistening pupils. Those eyes were dangerous! They should be declared a lethal weapon. It took a minute to break my stare and realize that we were carrying on a conversation as if we were the only two at the table. “So, um, Marc, who do you play Monday night?”

“Indianapolis. The Colts are also undefeated, so it’s going to be a good one. I wish I could get on the field.”

“The knee’s still giving you trouble?” Josh asked.

“Yeah. Every now and then. The coach is good about trusting my instincts. I tell him when it’s good to go and when I need to take it easy.”

“You’re lucky to be with an understanding coach. A lot of teams might keep putting you out there, testing your limits.”

“I know it. I do like it here. For so many reasons.” Marc looked at Ellie and then up at Kate, warmth lighting his brown eyes to a golden amber glow.

Kate smiled, but didn’t seem to pick up on Marc’s meaning. How clueless could she be?

I tried to throw Kate a look, but Sarah piped in. “Mom, my teacher’s going to call you next week.”

Aha, that was never a good sign. I noticed she waited for the right time to strike, with friends and family around and Mom building a nice wine buzz. Smart.

“About what?” I said, keeping it casual. She knew I wouldn’t lose my temper now.

“Math. I’m having trouble. I kind of failed my last quiz.”

“Kind of failed?” Josh and I asked in unison.

She blushed. “Did fail. But the teacher said I can make it up. It’s not that I don’t understand balancing equations. It’s that I go too fast and make stupid little mistakes, so that the answer ends up wrong in the end.”

“I used to have that problem,” Josh said. “My teacher solved it by teaching me to play cribbage, believe it or not. Playing sharpened my adding skills, but it also helped me to focus, to slow down and see the big picture.”

“Cribbage?” Sarah asked.

“It’s a card game. You play with a board.”

“We have one,” I said. “Patrick and I used to play. He always won. It’s in the game cabinet.”

“Cool. So, Josh, will you teach me after dinner?”

“I don’t see why not.”

As if tired of being neglected in favor of food and conversation, Ellie let out a wail.

“I’ll get her.” Marc jumped up. “You stay, Kate. Eat.”

“Oh no. That’s fine. She probably needs mommy time.” Kate stood, but Marc scooped Ellie up in his arms. As if to prove her mother wrong, Ellie stopped crying and let out a delighted coo once in Marc’s arms.

“You see?” Marc said. “I can handle it. You enjoy your dinner and I’ll have my turn once she’s settled.”

“Wow, thanks.” Kate seemed pleased. I glanced over at Josh, who was watching the sweet domestic scene play out between Marc, Kate, and Ellie.

“So, kids,” Josh interrupted the silence that settled over the table as everyone finished eating, “before we have that game of cribbage, we’re going to get your mom settled again in the other room and then the three of us will do the dishes and clean up.”

“Josh, that’s really nice of you. But I think I’m fine now. It won’t be much for me to get back and forth in the kitchen. You’ve done enough.”

“Not nearly. You still need to take it easy. I’m good in the kitchen. Trust me.”

I felt a wave of guilt at playing up my injury. “It’s not that I don’t trust you.” A man who could bake bread and make one of the best Caesar salads I’d ever tasted certainly didn’t need to prove himself in the kitchen. “But I can do it. Really. I would feel better if I could help out.”

“Sorry, Mom,” Spence said, “Josh is right. We’re going to handle kitchen duty tonight. You get to rest on the couch.”

“Wow, I think some of that hair dye may have invaded your brain cells. Are you feeling well?” The kids never wanted to help in the kitchen. I could only guess they were on their best behavior because we had company.

“Or maybe it’s that an alien has taken over his body.” Sarah never passed up an opportunity to razz her brother.

“Ha-ha,” Spence said. “Seriously, Mom, you deserve a break now and then.”

Sarah looked at her brother as if he’d grown a third head, never mind the alien takeover. But I agreed to go back to my couch and let them have at the dirty dishes. Who was I to argue?