“Use your indoor voice.” Caitlin huffed a volume-appropriate sigh. “We’re going to Softee Freeze. Don’t you remember anything for more than five seconds?”

With her unicorn book bag and matching leggings, Caitlin mimicked her mother’s…well…everything. The uncanny miracle of genetics.

“Hello,” Sam said.

His light brown eyes were fringed like a giraffe’s with impossibly long lashes. “Hi, Sam. Hi, Caitlin.”

“Is she coming with us?” Caitlin asked.

Her tone betrayed a decisively negative opinion on the matter.

Richard doffed an imaginary cap and made a courtly bow. “If you agree, my lady.”

Breaking into a smile, Caitlin accepted Richard’s hand. “Okay.”

“I love Softee Freeze!” Arms flailing, Sam rocketed for the door.

Caitlin rolled her eyes. “Boys.”

The black SUV with the Yale decal was, in fact, Richard’s ride. Casting a glance over buttery upholstery, she resolved they would eat their cones on the outdoor benches. Ice cream and leather definitely did not mix. Joining Richard and the kids in line, she pulled out her wallet.

“No way. My treat.”

Richard’s tone brooked no argument. Would this guy ever allow a woman to take the check? She rezipped her backpack and shrugged her shirt from her shoulders. At some point—say, after the temperature dropped below ninety-five degrees—she might wage that battle.

Sam insisted on a chocolate-dipped, soft-serve cone, and she grabbed a hefty stack of napkins before settling him on the bench next to her. She alternated between sipping her coffee shake and dabbing the inevitable stream of vanilla ice cream leaking under the cracked, chocolate crust. Swinging his feet and humming to himself, the little guy attacked his treat with gusto, oblivious to the growing, sticky mess.

Sitting on an adjacent bench with Richard, Caitlin spooned cookies and cream from a sensible cup and bemoaned how boring computer class was when they did the same activities as the week before.

Intelligent eyes, so like Claire’s, flashed as she spoke. Tessa swirled her shake like a fine wine and tried to imagine her own eyes looking outward from a child’s face—a face that mingled her features with those of someone else. How would she feel?

Richard caught her gaze over Caitlin’s head and winked.

She raised her milkshake in a wordless toast. As she mopped goo from between Sam’s fingers, and Caitlin chattered on, the vision of a life blossomed. Alone in her faculty apartment, she hardly dared imagine having a husband and kids. Just then, it seemed close enough to touch. In her heart, the delicate bud of a dream unfurled a petal or two.

“Are you Richard’s girlfriend?” Sam dragged a finger through a glob of chocolate on his shorts.

“What? No! Oh gosh, no.” She clamped down on her straw. Could Richard hear them? The sitting area was packed with noisy families. She lowered her voice. “We’re friends. We’re just getting to know each other, actually.”