biggest days, Wednesday and Sunday you‟re off. Monday and Thursday we stock shelves, do the weekend store displays. Out
by eleven.”
“Eleven at night,” Zack repeated to be sure he understood.
Wiley‟s eyes—blue, like his daughter‟s—narrowed. “That a problem for you?”
It wasn‟t like he had school the next morning, Zack reasoned.
His chest expanded with the power of making a decision, taking an action, without checking first with his mother. He met
Wiley‟s gaze. “No, sir.”
Wiley gave a short nod. “I‟ll see you tonight, then. Six o‟clock.”
“Six,” Liz repeated. “But what about dinner?”
She bit her tongue the instant the words left her mouth. She was the one to insist Zack get a job. But she hadn‟t expected
him to find one so soon, she thought, torn between guilt and pride. And she‟d never intended him to work nights.
Despite their sometimes competing schedules, throughout her husband‟s illness and after his death, Liz had made the
family dinner a priority, a constant, a way of demonstrating to her children and herself that life went on.
And life did go on. Life changed. Zack was changing right before her eyes. He was barely wearing makeup tonight, she
realized, just a touch of liner to offset his long gold eyes.
He shrugged, apparently uncomfortable with her inspection. “I‟ll grab a sandwich before I go.”
“I‟ll make you something.”
“You don‟t have to.”
She needed to do something, to connect with him somehow, to make up to him in some way for whatever failures had
brought them to this place. “I want to.”
“Whatever. Thanks,” he added in a voice that meant “Leave me alone . ”
She fixed tuna melts, and the three of them ate dinner together. Early, so Zack could leave for work on time, although Liz
had no appetite and he kept looking at the clock.
At least he ate, she told herself as she carried their plates to the sink. But he hadn‟t spoken a word to her.
The doorbell rang.
“I‟ll get it.” Emily, always sensitive to tension, jumped up from the table.
Zack followed her into the hall.
Liz shut off the water with her elbow and reached for a dishtowel. “Make sure you see who it is before you open the—”
“Morgan!” Emily said.
Liz‟s heart bounded as high and glad as Emily‟s voice. Stupid heart. It was only the memory of her dream, the rush of sex,
the contact high she got from being in the same room with him, that caused that erratic jump in her pulse. Or maybe it was the
relief of having another adult in the house.
“And he brought a kitten!” Emily shouted.
Liz‟s jaw dropped. She closed her mouth. Swallowed.
Adult, my ass, she thought, and went to deal with the situation.
Morgan stood in the entryway, tall, dark, and formidable with winter pale hair and eyes. Against his chest in one large hand
he supported a small striped kitten. Emily danced around them as Zack watched from the stairs.
“What are you doing?” Liz asked, keeping her voice low.
Morgan raised his brows at her tone. “Your daughter already told you.” He unhooked tiny claws from his sweater and
handed the kitten to Emily. “I brought you a cat.”
“She‟s so cute,” Emily crooned, cuddling the little head under her chin. “What‟s her name?”
“His name,” Morgan corrected, “is up to you.”
Her eyes widened with delight. “I can name him?”
“You can keep him.”
“Now, just a minute,” Liz said.
“Can I?” Emily whirled, clutching the kitten to her breast. “Can I, Mommy?”
Liz‟s heart sank at the mingled hope and appeal in her daughter‟s face. She had enough to deal with already. They all did.
Morgan had no right to dump this on her. “We need to talk about this, Em,” she said gently. “You‟re just starting camp. A pet