“She did the hash browns,” Carlie remarked, grinning at Michelle. “I never could get the hang of them. Mine just fall apart and get soggy.”

“My mother used to make them,” Michelle said with a sad smile. “She was a wonderful cook. I do my best, but I’m not in her league.”

“Where do your parents live, Gabriel?” Carlie asked innocently.

Gabriel’s expression went hard.

“I made a cherry pie for dessert,” Michelle said, quickly and neatly deflecting Carlie’s question. “And we have vanilla ice cream to go on it.”

Carlie flushed, realizing belatedly that she’d made a slight faux pas with her query. “Michelle makes the best cherry pie around,” she said with enthusiasm.

Gabriel took a breath. “Don’t look so guilty,” he told Carlie, and smiled at her. “I’m touchy about my past, that’s all. It was a perfectly normal question.”

“I’m sorry, just the same,” Carlie told him. “I get nervous around people and I babble.” She flushed again. “I don’t...mix well.”

Gabriel laughed softly. “Neither do I,” he confessed.

Michelle raised her hand. “That makes three of us,” she remarked.

“I feel better,” Carlie said. “Thanks,” she added, intent on her food. “I have a knack for putting my foot into my mouth.”

“Who doesn’t?” Gabriel mused.

“I myself never put my foot into my mouth,” Michelle said, affecting a haughty air. “I have never made a single statement that offended, irritated, shocked or bothered a single person.”

The other two occupants of the table looked at her with pursed lips.

“Being perfect,” she added with a twinkle in her eyes, “I am unable to understand how anyone could make such a mistake.”

Carlie picked up her glass of milk. “One more word...” she threatened.

Michelle grinned at her. “Okay. Just so you remember that I don’t make mistakes.”

Carlie rolled her eyes.

It was chilly outside. Michelle sat on the porch steps, looking up at the stars. They were so bright, so perfectly clear in cold weather. She knew it had something to do with the atmosphere, but it was rather magical. There was a dim comet barely visible in the sky. Michelle had looked at it through a pair of binoculars her father had given her. It had been winter, and most hadn’t been visible to the naked eye.

The door opened and closed behind her. “School is going to be difficult on Monday,” she said. “I dread it. Everyone will know...you sure you don’t mind giving me rides home after work?” she added.

“That depends on where you want to go,” came a deep, amused masculine voice from behind her.

She turned quickly, shocked. “Sorry,” she stammered. “I thought you were Carlie.”

“She found a game show she can’t live without. She’s sorry.” He chuckled.

“Do you like game shows?” she wondered.