“We’ll see you tomorrow,” Erin said. “Have a good trip and say hello to George.”

  “He’s waiting in the car. There wasn’t much room to park.”

  “I’m sorry. The construction will disrupt things for a while.”

  “Don’t worry about it. The kids will love watching the builders.”

  Erin remembered Digger’s warning. The kids had to be kept away from the danger of the site. Though they would be curious. Maybe she could get Digger to come in and explain to them what was going on. She’d call him and ask.

  Sam came running back. “Give mommy a kiss, Sam.” Samantha kissed her mother dutifully, then hugged her tightly. The two separated and Sam, holding onto Erin’s hand, waved as her mother left.

  “What are we going to do now?” the little girl asked. She was earlier than usual. The other teachers were due in forty minutes and the kids in an hour.

  “How about we make some coffee for the men outside.”

  “Okay,” she said. “But I can’t carry any hot water.” She shook her head from side to side in exaggerated slowness.

  Erin smiled.

  The day had been rough. Two teachers had called in sick and Erin had to combine their classes. Everyone appeared to be on a sugar high even though the parents brought healthy snacks and the amount of sugar was kept to a minimum. Erin seemed to run all day.

  The noise outside and the new fence had the children’s attention. They gravitated toward it as if it were a magnet. Erin was glad to close the doors and turn out the lights when the workday ended. She limped out of the building. Her hip was telling her the strain her day had caused. A beneficiary of the accident that had resulted in her hysterectomy was that her hip was pinned. When her days were especially grueling the limp that doctors said would be with her for the rest of her life reminded her.

  She had worked hard at walking without it, spending hours in physical therapy and refusing to give in to the pressure to quit. She would prove the doctors wrong. She wouldn’t walk with a limp. And if she didn’t overdo it she could almost forget the limp was a part of her life. She would never ski or run a marathon, but she could live a day-to-day life, exercise in moderation and no one would have to know about the infirmity.

  All day long she’d thought of Digger, looked for him during the controlled recess periods the kids had in the reduced play yard. He hadn’t shown up at all. She should stop thinking of him. He wasn’t her type. And the way she felt leaving tonight she didn’t want to see him.

  He wasn’t interested in her anyway. If he was he would have come today. He wouldn’t have been so quick to leave last time and the kiss on her cheek would have meant something, or at least have been the prelude to something.

  Erin mentally shook herself. She didn’t understand why she had such a strong attraction to Digger Clayton, but it had to stop right now. She’d told herself all the reasons a relationship with him wouldn’t work. They were all good reasons. She had to put him out of her mind and go on with the important things in life.

  “Put in now?” When Erin looked up Sam held the sifter full of flour precariously over a bowl. It was overflowing. The child’s hands were covered in white, and she was ready to turn the handle.

  “It’s too full, honey. You need room for the flour to move.”

  Erin took the sifter and used a tablespoon to reduce the load to a manageable size for a four-year-old.

  “Now?” she asked reaching for it.

  “Now.” Erin gave it back to her. The kitchen had a fine dusting of flour on the counter and a splattered pattern on the floor around Sam’s step stool. The television played a videotape of The Lion King. It was Sam’s favorite and she had insisted on bringing it into the kitchen when they’d started the cookies, although neither of them looked at it now.

  The two had rested for a moment after dinner. Erin had taken a pain killer for her hip, but wished she could have come home, settled into a hot bubble bath and gone to bed early. Instead she and Sam were making cookies.

  Sam turned the handle on the sifter slowly at first and the flour dropped like a powder into the stainless steel bowl. The room was pleasantly warm and smelled of cookie ingredients.

  “Milk.” Erin filled a measuring cup and transferred it from her large hands to the smaller ones of the child. Sam caught her lower lip between her teeth, the way she did when she concentrated. She poured the milk as if it were nitroglycerin and could explode at any moment.

  Erin fed Sam the ingredients for chocolate chip cookies one by one, and Sam put them in the bowl, stirring until it got too hard. Then Erin showed her how to knead the dough into balls, and they broke off pieces and put them on the cookie sheets.

  Two sheets went into the oven.

  “We can eat all them tonight.”

  Erin laughed. “No, we cannot eat them all tonight. If we did that, we’d both have a tummy ache.”

  “I wouldn’t,” Sam said with confidence.

  “I thought we’d take some of them to school tomorrow.”

  She cocked her head to the side then agreed. “Okay. I can give them out.”

  “I think we can arrange that.”

  They had just finished the third cookie sheet when the doorbell rang. Erin looked up, and her heart started to pound. She wasn’t expecting anyone. Gillian was on duty at the hospital and her other friends usually called if they were planning to come by.

  The only other person who could possibly come was Digger. She wiped her hands and wondered what her hair looked like. Sam went running to the door. She wouldn’t open it. Her parents had taught her not to do that. She looked through the side windows.

  “Digger,” she said excitedly and jumped up and down as if her best friend in all the world was standing on the doorstep. Erin’s heart pounded harder. Sam looked over her shoulder to Erin whose hip faltered. She limped more when Sam spoke his name. “It’s Digger. Digger’s here,” the little girl said as if Erin had failed to hear her the first time.

  Erin opened the door. She tried to smile. She wanted to see him, but it frightened her that he’d come. Sam jumped into his arms.

  “Hi,” she said. “Making cookies in the kitchen. Want to help us?”

  “Sam, you’re getting flour all over him.” Erin reached for the child, but Digger stopped her.

  “She’s all right. Flour washes out.”

  Erin stepped back and let him come into the room. She closed the door. They looked at each other for a moment. Then Sam remembered the batch in the oven.

  “We have to look at the cookies,” she said. Sam squirmed to the floor and took off for the kitchen at a run. Erin tried to rush, forgetting her leg in the wake of Digger’s appearance. It was quick to remind her.

  In the kitchen Sam stared through the glass door. Erin maneuvered slowly to conceal her infirmity.

  “I think they’re cooked,” she told Erin.

  She was right. Erin lifted the trays from the oven one at a time and placed them on the counter.

  Sam peered over the counter, her nose parallel with the cookie sheet. Digger’s hands curled around Sam’s shoulders and pulled her back, out of harm’s way. The little girl looked up at him.

  “Would you like to help?” she asked in a rare case of completing a full sentence.

  “Sam,” Erin interrupted before Digger could say anything. “I’m sure Mr. Clayton didn’t come by to make cookies.”

  “He’s Digger,” she corrected.

  Erin remembered Digger giving Sam permission to use the nickname. She smiled at the child. “He’s still here for something other than cookies.”

  “Oh, I’d like a cookie.” He smiled at Sam as if the two of them had conspired against Erin. “I’d like that big one over there.” He pointed to an odd-shaped cookie that resembled a small hand.

  “Mine,” she announced. “You can have it.”

  “Yours?” He feigned surprise, his eyebrows raising and his eyes opening wide. Erin felt a tremor run through her at the playfulness of the situation. “I can’t eat yours. I’ll take this one.” He pointed again. Sam’s smile covered her entire face.

  “Ms. Taylor made that one.”

  Digger turned to face her. Erin met his eyes over the little girl’s head. Sensation power-washed into her bloodstream. For a moment she held his gaze, then turned and scooped the cookie he’d identified as his onto a spatula. She transferred it to a saucer and handed it to him.

  “Can I have mine?” Sam chimed in.

  Erin put the big one on a small plate and took it to the table. She added a glass of milk. Every step she took was painful, but she refused to limp. She’d pay for the action later, but for too many years she’d seen the pity in too many eyes. If she rested she’d be fine. There was no need to reveal her secret.

  “Was there something you wanted?” she asked Digger while the little girl ate. She moved the rest of the cookies to a rack and placed the sheet they had been working on into the oven.

  Digger sat on a stool at the counter in front of her. He looked comfortable, as if he belonged there. The whole scene jelled in her mind. A flash so sudden she couldn’t stop it. A perfect family, herself and Digger and a little girl. All of them sitting around the kitchen making cookies. The pain in her side dispelled the image. Erin nearly cried out the pain was so sharp. She pulled a stool up and rested on it, taking her weight off the floor and easing the discomfort.

  “I came about the new rooms.” Digger interrupted her thoughts and her pain.

  Erin hesitated, waiting until she had her voice under control. She was thankful she had something to do to camouflage what had to be visible on her face. “Is something wrong with them?”

  “Nothing upsetting. I just forgot to let you know about the fencing and the new entry areas.”

  “Your foreman explained it.”

  “I know it’s an inconvenience.”

  “We’ll adjust,” she told him. “No one complained.”

  “Good,” he said, taking a bite of his cookie.

  “Would you like coffee?”

  “Milk would be fine.” He nodded toward the container. “These are very good.”

  “They were Sam’s idea.” Both of them glanced at the child who was absorbed by the television.

  “They’re my favorite,” she said, pulling the last word out to show her love of chocolate chip cookies.

  “While you’re here I’d like to ask you something.”

  He raised an eyebrow.

  “The kids were very curious today. We could hardly keep control of them with the construction going on.” He stiffened. She noticed it and quickly added, “We kept them away from any hazards.” He relaxed a little, but Erin felt as if that hadn’t been the reason for his uneasiness. “I wondered if you would come by one day, when you’re not busy, and give a class about how you add on to a building.”

  He said nothing, and it unnerved Erin. She picked up part of the cookie dough and rolled it into a small ball, placing it on one of the empty sheets. She continued this, making three more cookie balls. She couldn’t stand the silence any longer.

  “I know you’re busy,” she went on, saving him from having to refuse her. “It was just a thought. The kids have short attention spans, and they probably wouldn’t understand….”

  “It’s not that,” he said.

  “I’m finished,” Sam announced at the same time. “Can I have another one?”

  “May I,” Erin corrected her. Then she placed a second cookie on her plate. “No more tonight,” she told her. “It’ll be time to go to bed soon.”

  Erin returned to her task, looking at Digger who appeared to want to say something.

  “What?” she asked.

  He shook his head.

  “So you came here to apologize for the fence and the walkway.” She looked at him, but expected no answer. “You could have called and told me that. And Mr. Wright already apologized for you.”

  He dropped his eyes and lifted the glass of milk.

  “But I’m glad you came by.” He looked up then. Sam finished her milk and cookies and came over with the plate and glass. Erin placed them in the sink and used a napkin to wipe away Sam’s milk mustache. The little girl went to Digger and stood next to his stool. She looked up at him. Erin knew what she wanted. She wasn’t sure Digger did. But he seemed to get the message. He leaned over and lifted her into his lap.

  Erin put another tray into the oven and took one out. The cookies smelled delicious. Tomorrow the kids would love getting a cookie as a snack. She hadn’t forgotten today’s display of chaos, but tomorrow she’d have a full staff to help control the excited kids.

  “Digger, dig?” Sam seemed to have found something more interesting than the cookies.

  “Sometimes,” he answered.

  “That your real name?” She changed the subject with the usual speed of a child’s mind.

  “My real name is Samantha Yvette Pierce, sometimes called Sy for short,” he mimicked her. Erin recognized Sam’s introductory speech. She must have said it to Digger at some point. The child’s giggle was high and happy.

  “Not your name.” She pointed to herself. “My name.”

  “My real name is James Clayton.”

  He tickled her, and Sam’s light voice filled the room. The two of them looked great together. Digger might say he didn’t like kids, but his actions didn’t confirm it. Sam could wiggle into anyone’s heart. If James Clayton didn’t want children around him he would have left right after he apologized. He’d fulfilled his reason for being here. Yet he’d stayed for cookies and still remained in her kitchen.

  Erin didn’t want him to leave. She should. His playing with Sam told Erin that she and Digger could have no relationship. Give him a chance. Both Gillian and Logan had told her that. She didn’t think it was a good idea. So why was he here and why was she letting him stay? It was past time for Sam’s bath. Erin had plenty of excuses to get him out of her house and she hadn’t used any of them. She was thinking of his leaving the last time, when he’d kissed her.

  Her knees went weak, and she turned away from the man and child and opened the oven door. The heat blasted her face contributing to the warmth that had already invaded her body.

  The last batch went into the oven. The sink was full of trays and bowls. As Erin placed the cooled cookies in plastic containers for tomorrow, she broke one.

  “Can I have it?” Sam asked. Then remembering she repeated, “May I have it?” And reached up.

  “May I have it?” Digger asked. Both of them looked at her.

  She handed half of the cookie to Sam. “You’ll have to brush your teeth after this and get ready for bed.”

  The other half she gave to Digger. She said nothing to him, but the look in his eyes had her thinking she should repeat the phrase she’d just given to Sam, with innuendo.

  Giving herself something to do, Erin turned back to the oven and removed the final tray. “I’ll have to put her to bed,” she told Digger as she transferred the cookies to the cooling rack.

  Instead of saying good-night as she expected he nodded and set Sam on the floor. After a moment’s hesitation, Erin took Sam’s hand and led her away.

  “Good night, James Clayton,” the little girl called. She had a churlish smile on her face, although the words came out more like Ames Kaytin than Digger’s real name. With time her pronunciation would improve. “See you in morning.”

  “Good night, Samantha.”

  Sam giggled as she skipped away. While Erin watched Sam brush her teeth she wondered about Digger remaining in the kitchen. Why was he really here? Why didn’t he come to the school today with the crew? And why was her blood racing through her body just knowing he was a few steps away from her?

  Sam chatted away in her own form of broken English while she played in the bathwater and put on her nightgown. She seemed fixated on Digger and kept asking questions about him. Erin answered her absently until one question caught her off guard.

  “You and Digger could have a baby and I could play with her.” Erin went still as Sam continued. “I’d be careful. I wouldn’t drop her.”

  She looked so serious. “Sam, I explained about that.”

  Sam yawned as if she’d already dropped the subject. She dropped off to sleep almost the moment she closed her eyes. Erin left her to return to Digger.

  She found him pulling the sleeves of his shirt down. The kitchen was clean. All the pans had been washed or placed in the dishwasher. The cooled cookies were in the plastic containers and properly sealed. The flour that had been on the counters and floor had been cleaned away.

  “My foster mom taught me to clean up, even if she didn’t teach me to cook,” he explained.

  “Thank you,” Erin said incredulously. “I didn’t expect anything like this.” She spread her arms. “I’m impressed.”

  “I know you clean up at the school. I thought I’d help out here.”

  “Thanks. Sometimes after a long day I’m too tired to cook and clean.”

  “The kids seem really happy there and the teachers that I met.”

  “They are a good mix.”

  “And you like it?”

  Erin nodded. She’d loved children all her life. “It’s the power,” she said.

  “Power?”

  “You’d be surprised what a look can do.” She raised one eyebrow and showed him her menacing look. He laughed. “And peanut butter on crackers is a delicacy. The kids love it.”

  “Sam’s a nice kid,” he said.

  “She is, and she’s taken to you.”

  Erin went toward the door and he followed her. She switched off the light. The room was plunged into darkness and he was directly behind her. It was automatic for her to turn off the light. She was usually alone. Tonight the act turned the space between her kitchen and family room into an intimate setting. She should have smelled the lingering scent of sugar or the flour that had blanketed the air and coated the floor. But what her nostrils took in was Digger’s cologne.

  He was close behind her. All she had to do was turn around and he’d walk into her. She’d be in his arms.