Back Envious
Chapters (48)
  1. OUTSTANDING PRAISE FOR THE NOVELS OF LISA JACKSON
  2. Also by
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright Page
  5. A FAMILY KIND OF GUY
  6. Prologue
  7. Chapter One
  8. Chapter Two
  9. Chapter Three
  10. Chapter Four
  11. Chapter Five
  12. Chapter Six
  13. Chapter Seven
  14. Chapter Eight
  15. Chapter Nine
  16. Chapter Ten
  17. Chapter Eleven
  18. Chapter Twelve
  19. Chapter Thirteen
  20. Chapter Fourteen
  21. A FAMILY KIND OF GAL
  22. Chapter One
  23. Chapter Two
  24. Chapter Three
  25. Chapter Four
  26. Chapter Five
  27. Chapter Six
  28. Chapter Seven
  29. Chapter Eight
  30. Chapter Nine
  31. Chapter Ten
  32. Chapter Eleven
  33. Chapter Twelve
  34. Epilogue
  35. A FAMILY KIND OF WEDDING
  36. Chapter One
  37. Chapter Two
  38. Chapter Three
  39. Chapter Four
  40. Chapter Five
  41. Chapter Six
  42. Chapter Seven
  43. Chapter Eight
  44. Chapter Nine
  45. Chapter Ten
  46. Chapter Eleven
  47. Chapter Twelve
  48. Epilogue

She didn’t know but guessed that Luke Gates lived a more austere existence. She imagined he’d be as content to sleep under the stars with a buffalo robe for warmth and a saddle for a pillow as he would in a feather-soft bed with eider-down pillows and thick blankets.

Josh had inherited his mother’s need for keepsakes. Posters covered the walls of his room, and model planes hung from the ceiling. His desk was littered with baseball cards, trophies, books and CDs and his floor space was crowded with toys he’d just about outgrown. “You okay?” she asked, seeing that her son was channel surfing, flipping from a docudrama about the police to the baseball game.

“Fine, Mom. Don’t worry.”

“I’m your mother. It’s my job.”

“Oh, right.” Josh rolled his eyes.

While Blue lifted his head in the hopes of snatching a dropped morsel, Katie handed Josh the plate. “Better than Papa Luigi’s,” she said. “You’ve got my personal guarantee.”

“Sure.”

“Ask anyone in town.” She tucked the ice bag around his ankle.

He sucked in his breath and stiffened, tipping his plate and nearly losing a sandwich to the floor and the ever-watchful Blue. “Jeez, Mom, that’s cold.”

“It’s supposed to be.”

“I know, but, Mom, it’s freezing cold.”

“That’s the general idea,” she deadpanned. “It’s ice.”

“I don’t want it.”

“You have to. Wait a second.” She went to the linen closet in the hall, found a thin washcloth, then wedged it between the bag and Josh’s bare ankle. “Better?”

“Lots.” He nodded, bit into his sandwich and turned his attention to the little black-and-white TV where a batter was sizing up the next pitch.

“Good.” She patted him on the head and resisted the urge to overmother him and kiss his cheek.

By the time she’d returned to the kitchen Luke had settled himself into one of the chairs that surrounded the small table she’d bought at a garage sale three years earlier. His long, jeans-clad legs stretched out at an angle to the middle of the kitchen floor and he was sliding his finger down the open Yellow Pages of the phone book. “Tow company,” he said to the question she hadn’t yet voiced.