Even now, I couldn’t look away from her. She was beautiful, with that black top hanging off one shoulder. I was taller than her, so this morning I’d had an excellent view of her cleavage when we stood in line. My mouth watered just remembering.

Midway through our lunch, my phone vibrated with an incoming message.

“Sorry, I just have to check if it’s something urgent.”

April: I’m going to a movie with some people from my English class. I’ll be home late.

I groaned, then remembered I wasn’t alone. Val was watching me curiously.

“Trouble at work?”

“No... it’s my niece,” I admitted reluctantly. “She’s just texted me to say she’ll be home late. She informed me, didn’t ask me. This will set a bad precedent. She’s fourteen.”

I had no idea why I was telling her this.

Val rested her elbows on the table, watching me intently. “Let me guess... you want to be firm with her, but you also don’t want her to hate you?”

“Yes. Exactly. How do you know?”

She gave me a small smile. No, wait a second. It wasn’t a small smile. More like she was fighting the urge to laugh. “Want some advice?”

“Yes, please.”

I already had my parents’ advice on this, but I wanted a third party’s opinion. Since the girls had come to live with me, Mom split her time between LA and Montana. My father still owned the fir tree farm he’d had while I was growing up. After Hannah’s death, Mom wanted to be closer to her grandkids. She’d just retired from her job as a teacher and had taken up freelance editing, so she was flexible. I’d rented an apartment for her and offered to move them both permanently here, assuring them I could cover their financial needs, but my dad was too proud for that. The farm was his life, even though he was bound to take things slower now. He was about to have hip surgery. Mom had flown to Montana the week before the girls started school, and this time she was staying there for a few months.

“You need to be firm. She’ll hate you for a bit, but then she’ll get over it. It’s important to make her understand that you don’t want to control her. Also important—choose your battles.”

“Makes sense in theory. Now I just have to find the right way to formulate it.”

This time she did laugh. And since this morning I’d laughed with her, I could tell the distinction—now she was laughing at me.

“You’re a lawyer. I’m sure you know how to get your opinion across,” she pointed out.

“Different skill set, I’m afraid.”

“I see.”

“Do you?”