“Nope. Because you weren’t cited. Looks like you lucked out this time.... Well, maybe not, judging from the size of that shiner. I’ll bet it hurts.”

“A little.” Stephen was noncommittal.

“Well, be careful, would you? You’ve got a dynamite face and I’d hate to see it all banged up before you were twenty.” Adjusting the strap of her briefcase, she faced Tiffany. “I heard John came to see you this morning.”

Tiffany nodded and steeled herself for the onslaught she felt was coming. “He showed up around nine, I think.”

“I told him it was a mistake.”

“Did you?”

“Hey, we all have to handle this the way we think is best. I’m going to the wedding, of course, even though I’m not sure I totally approve. But it is both my mother and father, and if they can find some happiness together . . . Well”—she turned her free palm skyward—“so be it.”

“If that’s the way you feel.” Tiffany wished her own emotions were so easily defined. Ever since seeing her father this morning, she’d been in knots, second-guessing herself.

“It is. I’d like to see Mom happy.”

“Will this do it?” Tiffany asked, trying not to sound as skeptical as she felt.

“Time will tell, but I can’t see any reason to rain on their parade. Sure, John was a jerk—” She slid a glance at Stephen, but Tiffany waved her concern aside.

“Stephen knows the story.”

“Then he realizes that his grandfather made some mistakes in his life. Major mistakes. But now he’s trying to rectify them. I figure why not give the guy a chance.”

“I can think of a few reasons.”

“Yeah, I suppose, but I figure it’s time to let bygones be bygones.”

“I don’t think I can,” Tiffany admitted, though she felt a tiny twinge of guilt.

“Hey, whatever you want to do is your business. But the wedding could be fun. At least the reception out at Cawthorne Acres will be. If you don’t have anything better to do, why don’t you and the kids show up? Josh, my son—you probably know him from school, Stephen. He’s some kind of cousin to you and he’d love it if another boy around his age came.”

Tiffany couldn’t find a way to say no without getting into another argument. “I—I’ll think about it.”

“Do.” Katie checked her watch and sucked some air between her teeth. “Oops. I’m late already. See ya.” Half jogging to an ancient convertible, she climbed inside. With a clank, pop and cloud of black smoke, the car started. Waving, Katie wheeled out of the lot.

“Wow,” Stephen said, watching Katie, her red hair flying, disappear around a corner.

“She’s a real go-getter.” Squinting against the midday sun, Tiffany added, “I didn’t know we were related until we moved down here.”