“I suppose we should, since neither of us is interested in falling in with this plan of his,” Zach said. “We need to set our differences aside and work together, otherwise we might unknowingly play into his hands.”

“I won’t be swayed and you won’t, either.” Janine found the thought oddly disappointing.

“If and when I do marry,” Zach informed her, “which I sincerely doubt, I’ll choose my own bride.”

It went without saying that Janine was nothing like the woman he’d want to spend his life with.

“If and when I marry, I’ll choose my own husband,” she said, sounding equally firm. And it certainly wouldn’t be a man her grandfather had chosen.

* * *

“I don’t know if I like boys or not,” thirteen-year-old Pam Hudson admitted over a cheeseburger and French fries. “They can be so dumb.”

It’d been a week since Janine’s dinner with Zach, and she was surprised that the teenager’s assessment of the opposite sex should so closely match her own.

“I’m not even sure I like Charlie anymore,” Pam said as she stirred her catsup with a French fry. Idly she smeared it around the edges of her plate in a haphazard pattern. “I used to be so crazy about him, remember?”

Janine smiled indulgently. “Every other word was Charlie this and Charlie that.”

“He can be okay, though. Remember when he brought me that long-stemmed rose and left it on my porch?”

“I remember.” Janine’s mind flashed to the afternoon she’d met Zach. As they left the restaurant, he’d smiled at her. It wasn’t much as smiles went, but for some reason, she couldn’t seem to forget how he’d held her gaze, his dark eyes gentle, as he murmured polite nonsense. Funny how little things about this man tended to pop up in her mind at the strangest moments.

“But last week,” Pam continued, “Charlie was playing basketball with the guys, and when I walked by, he pretended he didn’t even know me.”

“That hurt, didn’t it?”

“Yeah, it did,” Pam confessed. “And after I bought a T-shirt for him, too.”

“Does he wear it?”

A gratified smile lit the girl’s eyes. “All the time.”

“By the way, I like how you’re doing your hair.”

Pam beamed. “I want it to look more like yours.”

Actually, the style suited Pam far better than it did her, Janine thought. The sides were cut close to the head, but the long bangs flopped with a life of their own—at least on Janine they did. Lately she’d taken to pinning them back.

“How are things at home?” Janine asked, watching the girl carefully. Pam’s father, Jerry Hudson, was divorced and had custody of his daughter. Pam’s mother worked on the East Coast. With no family in the area, Jerry felt that his daughter needed a woman’s influence. He’d contacted the Friendship Club about the same time Janine had applied to be a volunteer. Since Jerry worked odd hours as a short-order cook, she’d met him only once. He seemed a decent sort, working hard to make a good life for himself and his daughter.