“Oh, damn.” Katie glanced at the clock on the stove. “I’ve got to call and see if Josh is up. He’s got a job doing yard work for Mrs. Kramer next door, so I don’t want him to forget and take off on his bike or skateboard. Mind if I use the phone?”

“Not at all.”

Katie scooted back her chair and plucked the receiver off the wall. Deftly she punched in the numbers and waited. “Darn it, either he’s asleep or already took off—Josh, this is Mom, if you’re there, pick up. Josh? Honey, if you’re—Oh, about time. I was afraid you’d already taken off.” She paused for a minute and then said, “No, don’t go back to bed. You’ve got the job at Mrs. Kramer’s, remember?” Another hesitation. “No, there’s no way out of it. It’ll only be for a couple of hours and I’ll be home soon. You don’t have to be over there until eleven—”

She stopped in mid-sentence and leaned against the wall. Absently twirling the phone cord in her fingers, she listened to all of her son’s excuses.

“Okay, okay, just get ready. After you finish this afternoon you can go swimming and later I’ll barbecue for dinner. . . . I don’t know—how about hot dogs or hamburgers? Good.” She waited and rolled her eyes. “See ya.” She hung up and shook her head. “I’d better go before he takes off and ditches out of this job. A workaholic he’s not, but I guess he’s pretty young.” She was already heading for the hallway. “It was nice to get to know you a little better. Maybe . . . well, if we can convince her, we can visit Tiffany some day. You know about her, right?”

“My father’s firstborn,” Bliss said stiffly. “Yes. I’ve heard of her.” But only recently.

“She moved back to Bittersweet a little while ago, just about the time school was out, and I saw her once to tell her about John and Mom getting married. She wasn’t very anxious to talk to me—in fact, I’m not sure she can handle all this—” Katie gestured vaguely toward the interior of the house and waved her fingers. “Well, maybe none of us can, but I’m sure she just didn’t know what to say to me, and she was having trouble with her boy and his uncle. The guy—J.D. Santini—seems to be butting into the kid’s life. The whole Santini clan are kind of pushy, I think. Her father-in-law is the patriarch and head of Santini Wines, a big deal up in Portland. Her husband Philip worked for him and I think J.D. does, too, though he is, well, as I understand it, the black sheep of the family.