“That soon?”

“There’s nothing in the way of it. You and your brothers are Professor Quinn’s legal sons. Seth is his grandchild. His mother agreed, in writing, to transfer custody. Reneging on that might stall the decree, but no one believes at this point that it would change it. Seth is eleven, and at his age his desires would be taken into account. Anna’s going to push for a hearing early next week.”

“It seems strange, it all coming together like this. All at once.”

“Yes.” She looked up as a flock of geese swept overhead. Seasons change, she thought. “I thought I would walk down to the school. I’d like to talk to him, tell him some of this myself.”

“I think that’s a good idea. You timed it well.”

“I’m good at schedules.”

“How about scheduling a family meal tonight at the Quinns, to celebrate?”

“Yes, all right. I’ll walk him back here.”

“Great. Hold on a minute.” He went back inside, returning moments later with a very energetic Foolish on a red leash. “He could use a walk, too.”

“Oh, well, I . . .”

“He knows the way. All you have to do is hold on to this end.” Amused, Phillip stuck the leash in her hand, then watched her eyes go wide as Foolish made his dash. “Tell him to heel,” Phillip shouted as Sybill trotted after the dog. “He won’t, but it’ll sound like you know what you’re doing.”

“This is not funny.” She muttered it as she jogged awkwardly after Foolish. “Slow down. Heel! God.”

He not only slowed, but stopped, burying his nose in a hedge with such determination she was terrified he would race through it and take her with him. But he only lifted his leg and looked immensely pleased with himself.

By her count, he lifted his leg eight times before they turned the corner down from the school and she caught sight of the buses. “What kind of a bladder do you have?” she demanded, looking hopefully for Seth while she struggled to cling to the leash and prevent Foolish from rocketing toward the crowd of children pouring out of the building. “No. Sit. Stay. You might bite someone.”

Foolish slanted her a look that seemed to say, Please, get serious. But he sat, smacking her heels rhythmically with his tail. “He’ll be along in a minute,” she began, then let out a yelp as Foolish leaped up and raced forward. He’d spotted Seth first and was running on love.

“No, no, no, no,” Sybill panted uselessly just as Seth caught sight of them. He let out a yelp himself, of pure joy, and dashed toward the dog as if they’d been cruelly separated for years.

“Hey! Hi!” Seth laughed as Foolish made one adoring leap and bathed his face. “How’s it going, boy? Good dog. You’re a good dog.” Belatedly, he looked over at Sybill. “Hey.”

“Hey, yourself. Here.” She shoved the leash into his hand. “Not that he pays any attention to it.”