For once her daughter didn’t protest and after a bath, a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich and glass of milk, she settled down to watch television. Tiffany started dinner by cooking pasta for a salad and mixing the dressing in the blender. J.D. stopped his work for a bottle of cold beer, then continued to work outside, fixing a leaning handrail and several window latches. Exhausted from a long day, Christina dropped off in her chair and rather than rouse her for dinner, Tiffany carried her upstairs and tucked her into bed.

After she’d picked up a few scattered toys in Christina’s room, Tiffany finished making the salad and checked the time. Stephen was already half an hour late and she was a little nervous. The kid always pushed her and was forever ten or fifteen minutes late, but a half hour was longer than usual.

“Don’t borrow trouble,” she told herself as she tossed shrimp, green onions and artichokes into the pasta salad, then turned on the oven to preheat. Stephen would be home soon. After all, he’d mislaid his watch a few weeks back. He’d probably just lost track of time.

Chiding herself for being a worrywart, she glanced up the drive as she walked outside to the corner of the house where J.D., wrench in hand, was fixing a broken outdoor faucet. The handle had fallen apart and he was replacing the worn piece with a new one.

“You don’t have to do all this, you know,” she said. “It’s not part of the rental agreement.”

“Just wait till you get my bill.”

“Oh, right. And how much will that be?”

His eyes glinted wickedly. “Well, Ms. Santini, we’re not talking dollars and cents, you know.”

“No?”

“Uh-uh. I was thinking more along the lines of a trade. Tit for tat. I scratch your back, you scratch mine. . . .”

She laughed. “I don’t even want to know what you’re thinking.”

“It’s twisted,” he teased.

“Mmm. Sounds interesting.”

“If you only knew.” He winked at her, then turned his attention back to the task at hand. Setting his jaw, he gave a final tug on the wrench and twisted on the faucet. For the first time in months water spewed out of the tap and didn’t spray at odd angles from the spigot.

“You’re a natural,” she said with a laugh.

“If you think this is good, just wait until you see me sink my teeth into a double valve, if there is such a thing.”

At the sound of tires crunching on gravel, they both looked toward the street. Tiffany thought Stephen might have found a ride home, but her son wasn’t anywhere in sight. She began to worry a little more.