The temperature still hovered near eighty and a hummingbird was flitting near the open blossoms of the clematis that draped over the eaves of the back porch. Bees droned while a woodpecker drilled loudly in a nearby oak tree and the muted sound of traffic reached her ears.

“Is he eatin’ with us?” Stephen asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“Good.”

“He is your uncle,” she reminded him gently. And he’s your brother-in-law, whether you like it or not, she told herself. J.D. had signed his six-month lease, given her a check and started carting his few belongings up the stairs. His limp was noticeable, but just barely, and she wondered if his brush with death had been the cause for his reconciliation with his father. Or had it been because Carlo had lost his eldest son?

Her heart squeezed at the thought of the accident that had taken Philip’s life. Guilt, ever her companion, encroached upon her, wrapping its fingers around her heart. She had loved Philip once, but it had been such a long time ago.

“So why did you have to see the counselor today?” Stephen asked for the first time. He rubbed one elbow with the fingers of the opposite hand, a nervous trait he’d developed from the time he was four years old.

“She just wanted to talk to me.”

The cat cried at the back door.

“Come on in, you,” Tiffany said with a smile, then noticed as she held open the screen door that the small tear in the mesh was getting larger. Sooner or later it would have to be fixed. Charcoal streaked inside.

“I know she wanted to talk to you. But why?” Deftly plucking a bunch of grapes from a bowl on the table, Stephen leaned insolently against the doorframe and began plopping the juicy bits of fruit into his mouth.

This was the opportunity she’d been waiting for, because deep down, though she would never admit it, she was scared. Scared to death.

“Well, she started out by asking about you—you know, just checking on how things were going.”

“She just saw me the other day.”

“I know, but she had a few more questions. She’s worried about you, Stephen, and frankly, so am I.”

“I’m fine, Mom.”

If only she could believe it. Oh, Lord, how she wanted to trust her boy. “She had a few questions about your relationship with Mr. Wells.”

He froze for a second, then spat the seed from his grape into the sink. “I worked for him. Big deal.”