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Eleven

Olivia sipped her tea and enjoyed the sheer luxury of being home in the middle of a workweek. She’d taken a medical leave of absence from the courthouse, and this was the longest she’d been at home since the children were born. Under normal circumstances, she’d be presiding over her courtroom right now, hearing cases, making judgments that would affect the lives of people in her community. Olivia took her job as a family court judge seriously, which was probably the reason some of her decisions had been controversial.

Once she’d denied a divorce on a technicality when it was obvious to her, but seemingly to no one else, that the young couple standing before her was still in love. She’d followed her heart and her instincts. Same with a joint custody situation in which she’d ruled that the kids would stay in the house, with the parents moving back and forth.

Olivia returned her teacup to the saucer and stretched out her legs so they rested on the footstool. She admired her fuzzy new slippers, a gift from Grace. Her dressing gown was from Grace, as well. The sun shone warmly into the room and, childish as it sounded, she felt as if it were shining just for her.

“You need anything else?” Jack called from the kitchen. He was home on his lunch break in order to coax her to eat. Her appetite was practically nonexistent.

Olivia sipped a little more of her tea. “I’m good, thanks.”

“How about some Christmas cookies?” The day before, Justine had brought over a batch of Charlotte’s special Russian Tea Cookies. Her Christmas baking was a family tradition.

“No, thanks.” The tea had been soothing, but the thought of food held no appeal. She knew this was only going to get worse once she started chemo in early January. Jack was worried about her lack of appetite and seemed determined to keep her from losing any more weight than she already had.

“I picked up those iced raisin cookies you like at the grocery store,” he called back, obviously trying to tempt her.

“Not interested, but thanks.” She wasn’t unappreciative, but she didn’t know how she’d manage a lunch of soup, let alone adding cookies.

Jack stuck his head out of the kitchen. A smudge of powdered sugar ringed his lips as he frowned at her in consternation.

“Jack,” she protested, struggling not to laugh. “Cookies aren’t on your diet.”

“Who told you I ate those cookies?” His gaze narrowed.

“Come here and I’ll show you,” she teased, motioning him forward.

He walked in and Olivia held her arms open, inviting him into her embrace. When he bent forward, she sat up and tapped his lips, murmuring “sugar,” then kissed him.

When the kiss ended, Jack eased away. “Yes, I’m your sugar,” he said and she laughed. With a deep sigh, he looked at her. “That was nice.” He cleared his throat. “In fact, it was very nice …”

“I liked it too,” she told him softly. “Do I have powdered sugar on my lips now?” she asked with a smile.

“No.” He gave a guilty start. “I only ate one.”

“One?” Olivia had tasted those cookies from the time she was a youngster and eating just one would’ve been impossible. Besides, her husband had a notorious sweet tooth.

“One,” he said again, then glanced at his watch. “In the last ten minutes, I only had one.”

Olivia smiled again. No point getting upset. After Jack’s heart attack, she’d watched his diet religiously although she tried to resist nagging. Following her divorce it had taken her nearly twenty years to fall in love again and she was determined not to lose Jack any earlier than she had to.

“I’m being careful,” he promised, almost as if he was reading her thoughts. “I exercised this morning, and I had oatmeal for breakfast.”

“Good boy.”

He rolled his eyes. “The person who needs to eat these sweets is you.” He sat on the footstool and gazed at her, worry tightening his expression. Then he took both her hands in his own. “Will you try to eat something?”

She sighed.

“Please,” he coaxed.

“I’ll have soup.” Because she loved him, Olivia was willing to make the effort, although even the thought of soup or cookies—or anything else—made her feel queasy.

“Tomato?”

“Vegetable beef.”

“I’ll stay until you’re finished,” Jack said.

“Honey …”

“Don’t you mean sugar?” he asked, grinning. “Anyway, no objections allowed.”

“Yes, oh, great and mighty one.” It was important to him to prove that he was capable of handling this stress without turning to alcohol. Sobriety was hard-won for Jack. She knew he’d faltered when she was diagnosed with breast cancer. She’d been badly thrown herself. Now, on the other side of surgery, she was confident they’d both survive; she thanked God for that.

While Jack prepared her luncheon tray, Olivia closed her eyes, lulled by the warm sunshine. It seemed only seconds later that he returned, carrying a tray with a steaming bowl of soup, two cookies and a small vase with a single rose. He’d even taken the time to fold a linen napkin.

“Have you been watching the Home Decorating channel again?” she teased.

“I thought the rose would brighten your day.” He reached for her hand, raised it to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “Now, eat.”

“If you insist.”

“I do.” He sat next to her until she’d finished the entire bowl of soup and even nibbled at one of the cookies.

“Satisfied?” she asked. She simply couldn’t eat another bite.

“Yes.” He brought the tray to the kitchen and when he came back, he’d put on his long raincoat, although he seemed reluctant to leave her. “I’ll get home as soon as I can.”

“Jack, I’m fine.”

“Grace is coming over?”

Olivia nodded. “She should be here in an hour or two. And Pastor Flemming said he’d drop by later this afternoon.”

“Good.”

Between Jack, her daughter, her mother, Grace and her brother, Will, she was hardly ever alone. Olivia didn’t mind being by herself, but she understood that this was their way of showing how much they loved her.

A few minutes later, Jack left for the newspaper office, and Olivia settled down with a new women’s fiction title Grace had recommended. The doorbell chimed. When she opened the front door, she was delighted to see Pastor Flemming.

“I hope I didn’t come at a bad time,” he said.

“Not at all,” Olivia told him as they walked into the living room.

“I realize I told you I’d come around four when I talked to you on the phone yesterday, but I had a free hour and thought I’d visit now, if that’s convenient.”

“It’s fine.” Olivia had hoped to take a nap before Grace arrived, but she could go without one. Napping in the middle of the day could easily become addictive, and she couldn’t allow that. As she’d joked to her husband, it wouldn’t look good if she started yawning in court.

“Please sit down.” Olivia gestured toward the chair across from her own.

“How are you feeling?” Dave asked.

“Better, thanks.”

“I’m glad to hear that.” He reached for his Bible and Olivia saw his wristwatch fall to the carpet. Frowning, Pastor Flemming picked it up. “There’s a problem with the clasp. I’ll need to have this repaired.”

“It’s a lovely watch.” Even to Olivia’s untrained eye, this was an expensive one. It seemed well-worn and well-loved; perhaps it had come from his father or grandfather.

“Thank you.” He appeared to be flustered by her compliment and quickly changed the subject. The visit lasted about thirty minutes, long enough to drink yet another cup of tea, and after a short prayer, Pastor Flemming left, first returning their cups to the kitchen.

Olivia did get some reading done before Grace arrived. Much as she looked forward to seeing her friend, she also enjoyed the hour or so of solitude, although more than once she’d almost drifted off as she read.

“Can I get you anything?” Grace asked the instant she stepped inside. Her eyes were somber with concern. “You look tired.”

“I am.”

“Then take a nap.”

“I’d like to, but … what if it becomes a habit?”

Grace shook her head. “Olivia. Your body’s telling you it needs rest. For heaven’s sake, listen to your body!”

This was sensible advice. “I’ll only sleep for an hour.”

“Sleep until you’re ready to wake up.” Grace walked ahead of her into the bedroom to pull back the covers.

“I’ll start dinner while you’re resting,” she said.

“You don’t have to do that,” Olivia told her as she got into bed.

“I know, but I want to.”

Olivia didn’t argue. Like Jack, Grace needed to feel useful. She settled the covers over Olivia and tucked them around her shoulders. Then she drew the curtains, and as quietly as possible, tiptoed out of the room.

Olivia nestled against the thick down pillows and closed her eyes, savoring the indulgence of sleeping in the middle of the day.

Tired as she was, she assumed she’d immediately fall asleep. Instead, her mind took a series of unexpected twists and turns. It struck her as odd that Pastor Flemming would show up unannounced instead of at the time he’d previously set. She’d never known him to do that before.

Although he’d been solicitous and caring, Olivia was left with the distinct impression that something was troubling him. He seemed unusually rushed and unfocused, eager to be about his business.

After fifteen minutes, Olivia realized trying to sleep was pointless. She folded back the blankets and climbed out of bed.

Grace met her in the hallway, hands propped on her hips. “What are you doing up so soon?” she scolded.

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“Why not? You were about to keel over from exhaustion when I got here.”

Olivia wished she could put her concern about Dave Flemming into words. A visit from the pastor had been a gesture of kindness. It shouldn’t matter that he’d arrived at a time other than the one he’d arranged earlier. Yet it was more than that. She wondered what he was so worried about that he’d actually lost track of the conversation twice.

“Why don’t I make us some tea,” Grace suggested.

“Please.”

They sat in the kitchen, across the round oak table from each other. “Anything new?” Grace asked.

“Well, yes. The pathology report came back and it confirmed that the cancer didn’t spread to my lymph nodes.”

“Oh.” Grace raised both hands to her mouth. “That’s so great!”

Smiling, Olivia nodded. “It’s an incredible relief. Now, what about you—anything new at the library?”

Grace launched into a description of a board meeting she’d attended, and her plans for a Christmas story program for kids. She also mentioned that her new tenant, Faith Beckwith, whom they’d both known in high school, although she’d been Faith Carroll then, had visited the library. Olivia remembered that Will had done the same thing some time ago—and it wasn’t to check out books.

“My brother hasn’t made any inappropriate appearances, has he?” As much as Olivia loved Will, if he tried to get between Grace and Cliff again, she’d never forgive him. Will had begun an Internet—what? dalliance? fling? certainly not a relationship—with Grace. And he’d done it while he was still married, telling her he was divorcing his wife. The divorce came later, at his ex-wife’s instigation.

“Will’s too busy with the art gallery to worry about me.” Looking thoughtful, Grace raised her teacup, elbows on the table. “I have to admit that’s a relief.”

Olivia agreed with her. “He needs that kind of goal,” she said. “It should keep him out of trouble for a while.”

Grace nodded. “Cliff came by the library this morning with some news,” she murmured.

“Good news, I hope?”

Grace shrugged as if to suggest she wasn’t sure. “You decide. Cliff told me Cal and Vicki are moving to Wyoming to work with a mustang rescue operation.”

Olivia felt this was both good and bad. Cal had been seriously involved with Linnette McAfee and then broken off the relationship when he fell in love with one of the local vets. From a superficial perspective, it was difficult to understand why a handsome man like Cal Washburn would be attracted to a woman as plain and unassuming as Vicki Newman.

In retrospect, of course, it seemed completely logical. Cal and Vicki shared a passion for horses that had brought them together, a passion more intense than his feelings for Linnette.

“I can only imagine how Corrie’s going to react,” Grace said. “Remember how upset she was when she found out Linnette was leaving town?”

“I would’ve been upset, too.” Olivia sympathized with Corrie.

“The reason Linnette left was so she wouldn’t run into Cal. She didn’t want to see him, especially with Vicki,” Grace added.

“And now Cal leaves the area anyway. Vicki, too.”

“It’s hard to look people in the face when you’ve been humiliated,” Grace said quietly. “I know that from experience.”

Olivia shook her head. “So, when are they going?”

“Soon. It puts Cliff in a difficult position. He’s going to be shorthanded until January, when he can hire someone else.”

“Will he be able to manage?”

“I guess so.” Grace shrugged and sipped her tea. “We’d already agreed to house the animals for the live Nativity scene, but Cliff doesn’t seem worried about that. I told him I’d do what I could to help.”

“So Cal’s leaving before Christmas.”

Grace nodded. “Apparently Vicki’s sold her share of the practice and they’re ready to go.”

“I suppose Cedar Cove will get a new vet.”

“It seems that way,” Grace said. “From what Cliff said, Cal and Vicki are going to California for the wedding, since Vicki has family there.”

“I wish them the best,” Olivia said. She also wished Linnette hadn’t been hurt, but it was too late to avoid that now.

Corrie had told her Linnette was seeing someone in the small North Dakota town where she’d ended up. She seemed to be happy, according to her mother, and Olivia certainly hoped that was the case.

“What’s that?” Grace asked suddenly, sitting up straighter and staring at the floor behind Olivia.

“What’s what?” Olivia echoed, glancing over her shoulder.

Grace stood and walked over to the kitchen sink. There, lying on the mat, was a man’s wristwatch. “This,” she said, picking it up.

“Oh, Pastor Flemming’s lost his watch.” Olivia might not have recognized it if the same thing hadn’t happened earlier.

“Pastor Flemming?” Grace frowned, studying the back of the watch. “That’s not the name inscribed here. It says, ‘Micah Evans. June 23, 1977 for Thirty Years of Loyal Service.’”

“Micah Evans must be some relative,” Olivia speculated. He’d been concerned about losing the watch when it fell off his wrist the first time. It obviously held some emotional significance for him.

Grace continued to frown. “Evans … Evans,” she repeated slowly. “For some reason, that name sticks in my mind.”

“It doesn’t in mine,” Olivia said. “I’d better call to tell him I have his watch, otherwise he’ll wonder.” He’d behaved oddly and seemed almost sorry that she’d seen it. “There appears to be something wrong with the clasp.”

Olivia pulled the telephone directory from the kitchen drawer and set it on the counter, opening it to the Fs.

“Are you calling the church office?” Grace asked as Olivia scanned the listings.

“I thought I’d try his house first,” Olivia said. “He said he’d be out all day. If I contact the church office, he won’t get the message until tomorrow morning, if then. I’ll get in touch with his wife. Let me see. Flemming, D. 8 Sandpiper Way.”

Olivia punched in the number, and Emily Flemming answered on the second ring.

“Dave’s gold watch?” she said when Olivia had identified herself and explained why she was calling.

“Yes, it fell off his wrist while he was here visiting.”

“Oh.” The pastor’s wife sounded tearful.

“I just found it,” Olivia said, “or I would’ve called before.”

“Thank you for letting me know,” Emily Flemming whispered. “Goodbye.”

Olivia hung up the phone with the oddest sensation. “Something isn’t right between Dave and Emily Flemming,” she announced.

“What makes you say that?”

“I’m not sure. Intuition, I guess.” She clapped the phone book shut. “But mark my words, that relationship is in trouble.”

Twelve

Emily Flemming hung up the phone after her conversation with Judge Griffin and for a long moment didn’t move. She bit her lower lip hard enough to taste her own blood. The news about the lost watch bothered her, but that wasn’t the most upsetting detail.

Fifteen minutes later, she still hadn’t moved.

“Mom!” The front door opened and Matthew slammed into the house. “I’m home,” he yelled. His backpack slid from his shoulders and fell unceremoniously to the kitchen floor.

The door opened again as Mark came rushing in. “What’s for snack?” he demanded, following Matthew into the kitchen.

Generally Emily had something ready for her sons as soon as they got home. Heartsick, she’d forgotten.

She reached for two napkins and the large plastic barrel of pretzels she’d bought earlier in the month at Costco.

“Pretzels,” Mark whined. “Why can’t we have cookies?”

“Because cookies aren’t good for you, stupid,” Matthew muttered.

When Emily didn’t instantly protest, Mark did. “Mom! Matthew called me stupid.”

“Don’t do it again,” she said halfheartedly. She set the napkins on the table and poured a pile of pretzels onto each. The juice she gave them was a special treat; it came in small boxes complete with their own straws.

“What time will Dad be home?” Mark asked, then stuffed his mouth full of pretzels.

“I … I’m not sure.”

“What’s for dinner?” Matthew wanted to know.

Emily glanced over at the stove. When the phone rang she’d been assembling a large pan of lasagna. After speaking to Judge Griffin, she’d gotten sidetracked. The sauce had cooled on the stove as she’d stood by the phone, trying to understand what she’d learned. This shouldn’t be happening, and yet it made a weird kind of sense. It wasn’t as if Emily hadn’t suspected Dave had been lying to her. She’d known all along.

“Mom?” Matthew asked her again. “What’s for dinner?”

“Food, stupid,” Mark said.

“Don’t call your brother stupid,” she returned automatically.

“He called me stupid first.”

Emily would go slowly insane if she had to listen to this constant bickering. “Both of you, to your rooms.” She pointed in the direction of the hallway. They had their own bedrooms since the move to Sandpiper Way, which had been one of the many attractions offered by this house.

“Mom!” Matthew shouted. “We just got home from school.”

“Do your homework!”

“What about study hour?”

“You can do homework then, too.”

“This sucks!” Mark dragged his feet and his backpack down the hallway. She didn’t bother to reproach him for using a word she hated.

Emily waited until her sons were well out of earshot. With her mind in turmoil, she walked over to the telephone and called the church office.

Angel, the secretary, answered right away. “Cedar Cove Methodist,” came her well-modulated voice. “Can I help you?”

“It’s Emily,” she said, trying to sound calm, despite the staccato beating of her heart. “Is Dave there?”

“Oh, hi, Em,” Angel said. “Sorry, he’s been out and about all afternoon. You might want to try his cell. He had it with him when he left the office.”

“He either has it turned off or the battery’s gone dead.” Emily hoped God would forgive her for that lie.

“Can’t reach him then?”

“Right.”

Emily could hear Angel flipping pages of what she assumed must be Dave’s appointment calendar. “It says here that he’s supposed to visit Judge Griffin. She’s home from the hospital now, but I guess you already know that.”

“Is there a time?” she asked.

Angel made a small humming sound. “Four, according to his calendar.”

“Four,” Emily repeated dully. “Four this afternoon?” The secretary’s words confirmed everything she suspected.

“Yup. That’s what it says,” Angel said cheerfully.

“Okay, thanks.” Emily quickly got off the phone. At first she was too numb to think. Then, marching over to the sink, she looked down at the lasagna noodles she’d cooked. Lasagna was one of Dave’s favorite meals. He’d asked her to make it again soon, and like a gullible, simple-minded wife eager to please her husband, she’d happily complied.

Four o’clock.

He’d written down that he’d be visiting Judge Griffin at four this afternoon.

Yet that very morning, Dave had made a point of telling her he’d be home late this evening. Late because he had an appointment with Olivia Lockhart Griffin at six o’clock. Not only that, he’d apparently gone to see her well before the scheduled time of four.

It wasn’t difficult for Emily to surmise what he was doing during those unaccounted for hours.

He was with another woman. Someone he didn’t want her or Angel or anyone in town to know about.

Why else would her husband, the minister, the pastor of their church, lie to his wife?

“Mom?” Matthew stood in the kitchen doorway. “Is everything okay?”

She forced a smile. “Of course. Why not?”

He frowned. “You’ve got a funny look on your face.”

“I do?” She tried to relax. “How would you boys like to go out for dinner tonight?”

Mark joined his brother. “McDonald’s?”

“Sure.” She eyed the sauce cooling on the stove and the pile of grated mozzarella cheese.

“Mom?” Matthew asked when she started running water and turned on the garbage disposal. “What are you doing?”

“I.I ruined dinner,” she said as she dumped the entire pan of sauce down the disposal. It made a disgusting gurgling noise as it ground up the meat, onions, tomatoes and herbs that had been simmering for hours. She followed that with the mozzarella, then painstakingly fed in the wide noodles.

“Mom,” Mark said loudly. “I really like lasagna.”

“I’ll make it again soon,” she promised, but just then it gave her a perverse kind of pleasure to discard the whole meal. Despite the waste—and she knew she’d feel guilty later—she needed the angry satisfaction of doing this. “The three of us are going out to McDonald’s, remember?”

“What about Dad?” Matthew asked.

“He can fend for himself.”

“But …”

“He’s going to be late,” she informed her sons.

“Again?” both boys chimed.

“Get your coats.” Emily made an effort to sound excited. She grabbed a tissue to dab her eyes, which had begun to brim with tears.

This would never do. She squared her shoulders and determined then and there that she wasn’t going to cry. She would hold her head up and give the performance of her life. Her husband had lied. He might well be with another woman this very moment, but Emily would see to it that anyone looking at her, including her sons, would never guess. She refused to act devastated—or worse, humiliated.

“Hey, boys,” she said, collecting her coat and purse. “What would you think of me as a blonde?”

“You mean your hair?” Matthew asked.

“Yes, my hair. I’m going to have it dyed blond.”

“How come?” Mark studied her inquisitively.

“Because blondes have more fun.”

The boys turned to each other and Matthew shrugged.

“I’m going down to the mall to see if Get Nailed can squeeze me in.” On Thursdays the shop was open until eight. With luck one of the stylists had a cancellation.

“I’ll get you each a roll of quarters and you can play at the video arcade while I’m in the beauty salon.”

“Okay.” Neither boy seemed enthusiastic, however.

“Would you rather stay with Mrs. Johnson?” she asked. The woman served as their babysitter on the rare occasions Dave and Emily left their sons for a night out. It’d been weeks since they’d last had a “date.” No wonder, she thought bitterly. Dave was apparently dating someone else these days, while his wife sat home, cooking lasagna for him and ironing his shirts.

“I’d rather come with you,” Mark said.

Emily looked at her oldest son. “What about you?” she asked.

Matthew shrugged again. “Me, too, I guess.”

“You guess?” she said with a flippant air.

The boys silently followed her to the garage and slid into the backseat of the SUV. Christmas music was playing on the car radio but none of them sang along the way they usually did. The boys’ mood seemed to reflect hers, and their skepticism was all too apparent. Impulsive spending wasn’t normal behavior for Emily and they knew it. She wanted to reassure them but couldn’t. She felt as if her entire marriage had been a sham.

“We’ll check to see if I can get a hair appointment first,” she told them.

“Okay,” Mark murmured.

They stopped at Kitsap Bank for quarters, then drove to the mall. Everyone at Get Nailed was busy and Emily had to wait at the counter for several minutes before the receptionist reappeared.

“I was wondering …” Suddenly she wasn’t so certain anymore. Her anger, which had kept her determination alive, had begun to dissipate and she felt deflated.

“I realize it’s last-minute and everything, but is there anyone available to color my hair this afternoon?”

The young woman checked the appointment book. “Rachel had a cancellation earlier. I can ask her.”

“She did?” Emily took this as a sign. “Please check. It would be great if she could fit me in.”

The receptionist returned a moment later. “She said that would work.”

“Wonderful!”

Emily handed each of her sons a roll of quarters, with instructions to make the money last until her hair was done. They tore off for the video arcade across from the salon as the receptionist led her to Rachel’s station. Fortunately Emily could keep an eye on them from her chair.

“I’m Rachel,” a dark-haired woman introduced herself, draping a plastic cape around Emily’s shoulders.

“Emily Flemming,” she said. “We haven’t met before. Teri did my previous cut—” she frowned “—sometime this summer.”

Rachel ran her fingers through Emily’s hair. “So you want to be a blonde?”

“Yes. I hear they live life to the fullest and that’s exactly what I intend to do.” It was a flimsy reason, at best, and a silly one at worst, but at this point Emily didn’t care.

Soon she was at the shampoo bowl and her hair was lathered and rinsed twice. While the water sprayed her hair, Emily closed her eyes, trying not to think but unable to stop the thoughts from tramping through her brain, one after the other.

It didn’t hit her until the coloring process was underway that she’d forgotten a crucial part of the conversation with Judge Griffin.

Dave didn’t own a gold watch.

At least not one that she knew about. Since it was unlikely he’d purchased it for himself, that left only one other option. Someone else had given it to him.

A woman.

Fine, she decided furiously. She’d ask him about it. She was through letting her husband ruin their lives. Through with pretending nothing was wrong. Through with turning the other cheek. The pride, the pretense of indifference, was for public consumption. But Dave—she was going to confront him with the truth. Demand answers. Then she’d figure out what to do next.

When Rachel was finished, Emily barely recognized herself. Her straight dark hair was gone, replaced with a shorter, more stylish do. She was blond, all right. Very blond.

“This is a good color for you,” Rachel was saying. “I was a little concerned when you wanted to go this light, but I have to admit it looks really nice.”

“Thank you.” Emily swallowed hard. The style and color were certainly … different. Eventually she’d get accustomed to this new look and so would everyone else. And when it grew out, she could always revert to her natural color. Depending on how she felt at the time … .

She paid the bill, wincing at the cost. Well, one extravagance wasn’t going to ruin them. Dave would just have to live with it. She suspected he didn’t have any qualms about spending money, even if it wasn’t on her or the boys. In fact, she planned to check his credit card statements at the first opportunity, an idea her mother had suggested and she’d initially rejected.

Matthew and Mark stood outside Get Nailed, waiting for her as she left the salon. Neither said a word.

“Well?” she asked them, patting the side of her head. “What do you think?”

“It’s, um, different,” Matthew ventured.

“That’s good, isn’t it?” Emily turned to Mark for confirmation.

“You don’t look like my mom anymore,” her younger son declared.

“But I am your mom. Now let’s go have dinner. I bet you’re hungry.”

Matthew and Mark wolfed down their hamburgers and fries and then chased each other around the play area. Emily couldn’t eat. Her stomach was in knots. She’d ordered a burger but after a single bite set it aside.

When they returned to the house, she saw Dave’s car in the garage. She wasn’t ready to see him yet, but as soon as she’d pulled in beside his car, he opened the door from the kitchen and stepped out.

The boys leaped from the backseat and ran toward their father. Dave hugged each of his sons in turn.

“Where were you? You didn’t—” He stopped abruptly and a shocked look came over him. His head reared back as he stared at her. “What on earth did you do to your hair?”

“Mom colored it,” Mark said.

“But … why?” Dave asked.

“You don’t know?” She kept her voice casual as she entered the house. “You asked me where I was and the answer should be obvious. I was at the hairdresser’s.”

“Mom took us to McDonald’s for dinner.”

“Go to your rooms now, boys,” Dave said curtly. “It’s time for your homework.”

“Aw, Dad,” Mark whined as Matthew groaned. “But we just got home!” One look from Dave quelled their protest.

Sensing that it was probably best to do as they’d been told, Matthew and Mark moved sluggishly toward their bedrooms. Emily walked to the far side of the kitchen with Dave on her heels.

“Why did you change your hair?” he asked again.