“Dad, can I have a cell phone?” Holly plonked down next to them. “I’m the only girl at school who doesn’t have one.”

“I doubt that.”

“It’s true!”

“We’ll talk about it later, okay?”

Holly faced Alice. “You think I need a phone, don’t you?”

Alice was still buzzy from Harry’s convoluted attempt at asking her out. “I—um. I think it’s something you and your dad need to discuss.”

“I thought you were my friend!” Holly pouted.

“That’s enough, Hol,” Harry said firmly.

“I thought we were flying kites,” Hunter whined.

“And I thought we were having an enjoyable evening until you two started behaving like brats.” Harry shot to his feet, one hundred per cent father. “Come on, pack up. We’re going home.”

“But, Dad—”

“Do. It. Quietly.” Harry folded up the picnic blanket and clipped the lead on Brutus before giving Alice a wry smile. “Kids, eh? Catch you later?”

“Sure. Text me.”

“Text you?”

For a man who seemed to read her like a book, sometimes he had serious lapses of social clues. “You know, about that idea of yours …”

It was like watching a movie in slow motion. Confusion gave way to comprehension and then his lips twitched into a smile reminiscent of the one he’d given her when he’d dipped her. Butterflies flittered in her stomach.

“I’m not the best texter. How about I call you?”

“That would be great.”

Alice sat back on her haunches, rolled her shoulders and ignored the pain in her knees. A rainbow of chalk colors streaked her hands, her loose work pants and likely her face and hair, but finally, the mural was ready to be sealed. Drawing it had been a mental escape from the confronting reality of Jess’s diagnosis and Libby’s intransigence.

Alice used her finger to smooth out the color around a sea star but she knew it was an act of procrastination. The council members had all trooped past ten minutes earlier, unanimously approving the large pavement mural. Now Lionel, one of the maintenance blokes, was waiting with the roller and a can of clear coat to make it permanent.

“It’s incredible, Al,” a familiar voice said.

She glanced up to see Dan standing behind her along with a large group of onlookers. Most of the women were looking at him, not the mural, and Alice understood why. The late afternoon sunshine lit his hair golden like a crown and the rest of his good looks and toned body dazzled the mortals. But the cheeky grin he usually cast widely was absent, replaced by an appreciative smile that was focused on her work.

“Thanks, Dan. I’m pretty happy with how it’s turned out.”

“You can see every feather on the swan.”