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“Good.”
Jennifer kicked off her shoes so she could tuck her feet beneath her.
“Would you like to try a simple dinner out this next week?”
She shook her head.
Scott looked disappointed. Before he could comment, Jennifer nodded toward her office. “I’ve got to get the first draft finished, or I’m going to lose my nerve to finish the series.”
He grimaced. “Work. I have used that excuse more times than I care to admit myself. What about the week after?”
“Any night but Monday,” Jennifer replied, giving him cart blanche to set her schedule. Monday nights her brother and his two boys came over to watch the football game.
“How about Thursday?”
“Sounds fine,” Jennifer agreed.
Scott nodded. “Thursday it is.” He couldn’t prevent the yawn. It had nothing to do with the company, it had simply been a very long, heavy week.
“Like a refill?” Jennifer asked, gesturing to his coffee cup.
“Please,” Scott replied.
Jennifer filled his cup then sat back down. “What other authors do you like to read?” she asked, then grinned. “Besides me?”
He laughed. They passed a pleasant hour, talking about books, authors they liked, then about movies they had seen. Jennifer happened to glance at her watch. “Scott, it’s twelve forty-five.”
He nodded. “You are right. I had better get going.” He got to his feet. He smiled. “I enjoyed tonight.”
“So did I,” she admitted.
She turned on the porch light and watched him start his car. He lifted a hand. She waved back, then quietly closed the door.
“You look tired. Late night?”
Scott’s sister, Heather, grinned as she asked the question, leaning over the back of the pew to get his attention. Busy cramming for the youth group lesson he had to give in twenty minutes, Scott just grinned and said, “Yes. Now go away, Twiggy. And don’t tell Mom.” The nickname she had picked up in high school had stuck. Scott ensured it got kept alive. She liked to protest, but he knew she would be hurt if he dropped his pet name for her. She had a green thumb and now owned a greenhouse, making her name even more fitting.
She squeezed his shoulders. “I knew it. Is she pretty?”
Scott stuck his finger on the text he was going to use and leaned his head back to smile at his sister. “She’s beautiful,” he replied gravely. He hadn’t told her much when he had reneged on his offer to take her to see the play so he could take Jennifer instead, and her curiosity had to be killing her. Scott loved it. His grin told her he was holding out deliberately.
She swatted his shoulder. “Come on. Spill the beans. Or I will tell Mom you were on a date last night.”
“I took Jennifer out to dinner, we went to the play, and then we sat and talked over coffee at her place. I didn’t get home till 1:30 a.m. I had a nice time, and yes, I’ll probably see her again. Sufficient?”
She grinned. “Not hardly. But you can tell me the rest over lunch. Frank’s taking the kids roller skating. You’re buying.”
“It’s your turn to buy,” he protested.
“Then we’ll go to Fred’s,” she replied, knowing how he hated the boring food served there.
Scott sighed. “If you’re going to twist my arm like that, I’ll buy. Why do I love you so much, anyway?”
“Because I’ve got two kids you adore so you have to be nice to me,” she replied with a grin. “I’ll find you after church. I’m on piano today.”
“Break a finger.”
She smiled, tugged his hair, and left him to finish preparing his lesson.
Chapter Three
The doorbell rang just as Jennifer finished turning the caramel popcorn out onto the wax paper. Setting down the wooden spoon, she went to answer the door.
“Hi, Tom.” She held open the door for her nephew.
“Hi, Jen,” he replied with a big grin. “Dad bought out almost the entire store.” He was carrying a full grocery sack.
Jennifer smiled. “He hasn’t changed.” She could see the cookies and the bag of chips. “Take them straight to the living room, Tom. On the coffee table.”
“Okay.”
Peter was coming up the walk, carrying Alexander. Jennifer held the door for him. “Thanks.” He stepped inside, carrying his sleeping son. “He fell asleep as soon as we got into the car,” Peter said softly.
Jennifer nodded toward her bedroom. “Go ahead and put him down.”
Her brother nodded and disappeared down the hall.
The roses. Jennifer hurried after Peter. She had moved the roses Scott had sent into her bedroom. Peter would ask too many questions if he saw them.
Peter didn’t bother to turn on the bedroom light, and by chance, the door to the bathroom was open, partially hiding the flowers on the dresser. Jennifer helped slip off Alexander’s tennis shoes. Peter pulled a light blanket over him.
“Okay.” Peter nodded to the door. “I think he’ll be fine.”
They left the bedroom. Peter didn’t notice the flowers.
“Aunt Jen, what channel is the game on?”
“Seventeen.” Jennifer smiled at Tom’s worried expression. “We’re still early, Tom. It’s on after this show,” she reassured him. “I’ve got caramel popcorn made if you would like to help bring it out from the kitchen,” she offered.
Tom was on his feet in an instant. “Sure.”
Peter pulled out glasses, filled them with ice as Jennifer and Tom put the finishing touches on a huge bowl of caramel popcorn. Peter reached around them to sample the warm, slightly sticky caramel mixture. “Good job, Jen.”
She grinned. “Thanks.”
“Sticky, though.”
Jennifer tossed him two clean towels from the bottom drawer by the stove. “For the living room.”
He nodded and wisely got one of them damp. He added them both to the tray he was putting together. “Anything else we need?”
Jennifer added two large spoons to the tray. “That should be it.”
As was tradition, Peter and Jennifer sat on the floor, using the couch as a backrest. Tom stretched out in front of the fireplace.
“Did Rachel and Tiffany go for their night out?”
Peter nodded. “They left about six-thirty.” He opened the box of cookies and offered Jennifer one. She accepted. “They were going to get ice cream, Tiffany finally decided she wanted one of those two-scoop sundaes, then they were going to the show.”
“Tom, how was your day?”
Her nephew had pulled out the sports page of the newspaper and was reading intently. “It was good,” Tom replied absentmindedly.
Jennifer looked over at Peter and shared a smile. Tom was a reader. A very intense, careful reader. There was always one in the family. Jennifer had lightened up over the years, but she could also be like Tom, totally absorbed in something.
“Tom.” Peter finally got his attention. “It’s not polite to ignore your hostess.”
“Sorry, Aunt Jen,” he apologized.
“Look on page 26, there is an article about the state soccer finals,” she said, apologizing as well for interrupting him.
“Really?” Tom turned the next few pages. “Thanks.”
The show credits rolled by. Peter reached for the remote and adjusted the sound. Jennifer settled back, propped her knees against the coffee table, a cold glass of diet cola cradled in her hands, got comfortable. It was going to be a great game.
“Nice socks, Jen.”
Jennifer admired the bright rainbow of colors on her feet. “I bought them for myself last Tuesday.” Right after I bought a very expensive dress to wear to a play you still don’t know I went to see.
The sports page landed back in the basket with the rest of the paper. “There’s Grant,” Tom said, excited.
They were playing in San Diego and it was a nice night there, low seventies, no wind. Perfect game conditions.
It was a disappointing first quarter. The announcers explained away the repeated pass run, pass punt as the teams were feeling each other out. That was one way to describe it. Jennifer could think of a few others. If a receiver broke free and clear, the quarterback got sacked. If it was a good pass, the receiver dropped it. Punt returns consistently got stopped within five yards. The snacks started to disappear, but there was little excitement among the threesome watching the game.
Tom disappeared into the kitchen at the end of the quarter in search of some ice cream.
“Like a refill?” Peter gestured to the empty glass she was holding.
Jennifer handed it to him. “Thanks. Let’s hope the second quarter is not quite so dead.”
Peter smiled. “What is it they say about expectations? Low ones are the only kind that don’t lead to disappointment?” He handed back her refilled soda.
“Very true,” Jennifer admitted. Her right hand slid up the back of her neck and massaged the tight muscles, lessening the pain building inside her head.
“Here, Jennifer, give me back the glass and turn around.” Peter had seen the gesture.
Jennifer handed him the glass and turned toward the fire. Peter gently massaged her shoulders. “You’ve been working too hard again.”
“Hmm.” The massage felt great. Peter still needed a little practice before he would be as good as Jerry had been, but he wasn’t bad at all. “I completed twenty more pages today,” Jennifer said, dropping her head forward so Peter could work on her neck.
“You are still planning to end the series?”
“Yes.”
“When was the last time you saw your doctor, Jennifer? These headaches are getting more and more frequent.”
“Last month. He said to quit crying so much,” Jennifer replied, muffled.
Peter’s hand worked along the vertebrae in her neck. “Still having bad nights?” he asked, concerned.
Jennifer nodded. “Not as frequently, but yes, I’m still having bad nights,” she admitted. She gingerly rolled her head. “That’s much better, Peter. Thanks.”
“Sure.”
“Aunt Jen, do you have any of those chocolate sprinkles left?”
“Try over the sink, Tom.” She looked over at her brother. “How in the world can he eat all that stuff and never get sick?”
“I want to know how he can eat all the stuff and not gain weight,” Peter replied. “He’s a bottomless pit.”
“I’m a what?” Tom had returned.
“A bottomless pit.”
Tom grinned. “I’m a growing boy, Dad.”
Peter gave him a playful swat. “You won’t always have that hollow leg.”
A sleepy boy appeared in the doorway. Jennifer saw him first. “Hi, Alexander. Come on in.”
“Hi, Aunt Jenny. I fell asleep.”
“Come sit beside me,” Jennifer offered, hiding a grin. Alexander was so adorable when he was sleepy.
“Hi, champ.” Peter gave him a hug, lifted his son over to sit between himself and Jennifer. She gently combed his hair with her fingers.
Alexander looked over the food with interest, starting to wake up. “What have I missed?”
“Nothing,” Tom replied, somewhat disgusted with the performance of his favorite team.
Jennifer offered Alexander a cookie.
“Nice socks, Aunt Jen,” Alexander said gravely.
“Thank you, Alex,” Jennifer replied with a smile. His own socks were blue with lots of little brown footballs. It was tradition between the two of them to give each other socks for Christmas; Alex was almost as opposed to shoes as Jennifer.
The second quarter of the game started. The home team actually put together a decent drive before fumbling on the twenty yard line. The phone rang.
