The boy clutched Debbie’s hand in both of his, screwed his face up, and said to Ken, “Okay. I’m ready.” Then he shut his eyes tight.

  Ken administered the injection as quickly as he could. As the needle entered the tender flesh, Michael’s scream pierced the air and echoed down the hallway. The scream ended in a string of curses that made his mother’s sound like Sunday school talk. Thankfully, Debbie’s face remained impassive as she returned the boy’s white-knuckled squeeze.

  “All done.” Ken set the syringe in the tray and smiled at Michael. “It’ll go dead any second now.”

  The boy’s face cleared slowly, creases falling away as his crushing grip on Debbie’s hand relaxed. “It already is.”

  “Good. We’ll give that a few minutes to get things good and numb before we start stitching that cut.” He looked at Michael’s mother. “Can I talk to you for a moment?”

  He left the room without waiting to see if she would follow. He’d seen plenty of kids like Michael in Cincinnati, good kids who needed a strong positive influence in their lives before they started trying stupid things to look cool in front of their peers.

  The woman’s expression looked a lot like her son’s when he first arrived—belligerent. She stood with her arms crossed, her purse slung across one shoulder, and refused to look him in the face.

  “Ms. Lassiter, do you know what your son was doing outside the house so late at night?”

  “Hey, it wasn’t my fault.” She tapped a sandaled toe. “I knew I was going to get blamed for this. I can’t watch the kid every minute, you know.”

  “Granted. But surely you have rules about when he has to be home at night.”

  “He was home. I told you, he slipped out after I fell asleep. It’s those kids he runs with. They’re bad news.”

  Ken kept a firm grip on his patience. “Maybe if you explain to Michael why you think they’re bad news, and that you don’t want him to hang out with those kids anymore, he’d listen to you.”

  She gave a blast of humorless laughter. “Are you for real?”

  “I just think—”

  “I don’t care what you think. It’s easy for you to stand there and tell me how I should act. You’re not there every day, you don’t know what our life is like. Your job is to take care of that cut and butt out of our business. So why don’t you do that and get off my back?”

  Ken stared after her as she stomped away. True, he didn’t know what their life was like. He only knew his heart twisted in his chest when he thought about that ten-year-old boy running around the streets with a gang of kids at two o’clock in the morning. Where would Michael be in five years? In three, even?

  There were so many kids like him in Cincinnati. But somehow in a big city Ken expected to see street gangs and all the problems that went with them. Gunshot wounds, knife fights, drug overdoses. He never thought about those same things happening in a smaller town like this one.

  Should he report her for child abuse? There was no indication that Mike had been abused, none of the typical signs like bruises or broken bones. Neglect, maybe? He shook his head. She would just stick to her story that he snuck out of the house after she was asleep. And it was probably the truth.

  Maybe he was overreacting. After all, a ten-year-old who stepped on a broken bottle in the middle of the night was a far cry from a street thug. With a sigh, he headed back toward the examination room to stitch Michael’s wound.

  ~ 7 ~

  Joan drizzled fat-free dressing across her salad while beside her Allie piled chicken wings on a plate already full of fried fish, mashed potatoes, cheesy macaroni, and yeast rolls.

  “I love this buffet.” Allie balanced a final wing on top and licked her lips. “They have the best rolls.”

  Joan eyed the mountain of starch and grease her sister was about to consume. “You know, you really should eat something healthy every now and then.”

  Allie answered by balancing her plate in one hand while grabbing an apple off the buffet table with the other. She scowled. “There. Something healthy. Are you satisfied?”

  Joan shook her head, laughing, as she led the way back to their table. “Don’t come crying to me when you want to fit into your pre-baby jeans and you can’t get them past your pudgy knees.”

  Allie set her plate down and tried to slide into the booth. She pushed the table toward Joan a few inches so her bulging belly would fit. Scooching into the center of the bench, she looked so funny Joan couldn’t help laughing again.

  Allie glared across the table. “Okay, no making fun of the pregnant lady. You’ll give me a complex. Instead why don’t you tell me what’s bothering you today?”

  Joan pulled a napkin out of the dispenser and handed it across the table. “What makes you think anything is bothering me?”

  “Because your voice sounded funny when you called this morning. And because I usually have to pry you out of that store for a lunch break, so if you call me for lunch, something must be bothering you.” She leaned forward. “Is it Gram?”

  Their drinks arrived. Thankful for the interruption, Joan peeled the paper off her straw and gathered her thoughts as Allie sent the server back for more lemon slices. She had worried about her midnight mug-arranging episode since the moment her eyes opened yesterday morning. But now that it was time to talk about it, she couldn’t find any words that didn’t sound lame. Maybe she should just ignore the whole thing. After all, what did she expect Allie to do?

  “Maybe I just wanted to get away from Rosa’s constant griping about Luis for a while.”

  Chicken wing in hand, Allie gave her a shrewd look. “You never could lie to your big sister. Come on, out with it.”

  Joan heaved a sigh. “Okay, so maybe something is kind of bothering me. It’s not a big deal, really. It’s just that . . . ,” she toyed with her fork, “I’m afraid I might be going crazy.”

  Allie’s forkful of mashed potatoes paused halfway between her plate and her mouth. “Why do you say that?”

  Joan speared a piece of lettuce. “Because the other night I got up at two in the morning to rearrange the coffee mugs.”

  Allie’s face remained impassive, probably a technique she’d learned from her college counseling classes. At least she didn’t laugh. Joan couldn’t take Allie laughing at her right now. Not about this.

  “You mean rearrange like the way Gram rearranges.”

  It wasn’t a question, but Joan nodded anyway. “Exactly that way. Only Gram would have alphabetized the mugs somehow. I just arranged them so they were all facing the same way. You know, so they were neat.”

  “And how did you feel?”

  Joan rolled her eyes. “I felt like an idiot organizing the cabinets at two in the morning, that’s how I felt.”

  “No, I mean did you feel compelled to do it? Did the thought of the coffee mugs in disarray keep you awake and nag at you until you couldn’t stand to leave them alone? Did they . . . ,” she raised her eyebrows, “. . . call to you?”

  “Of course not.” Joan shoved the lettuce in her mouth, chewed with vigor, and swallowed. “I wasn’t thinking about them at all. I couldn’t sleep, and I went to the kitchen for some water, and just fiddled with them while I was drinking.” She paused, and then confessed the worst part. “I didn’t even realize I was doing it. I did it automatically, like my brain was keeping me occupied so I wouldn’t notice what my hands were doing.”

  Allie fell silent for a moment as she took a few thoughtful bites. Joan tried to concentrate on her salad, but she wasn’t hungry. She felt a little foolish for scheduling a lunch to talk about something so stupid, but for some reason she wanted—no, needed—her sister’s opinion.

  “Well, I don’t think you’re going crazy.” Allie made her pronouncement matter-of-factly, like a diagnosis.

  “You don’t?”

  “No, I don’t. But I do think you’re bored.”

  “Bored?” Joan shook her head. “I’m so busy I barely have time to do anything.”

  “Busy with what?” Allie cut a bite of fish and dunked it in a puddle of tartar sauce. “You work all day long at a dull job—”

  “Hey!” Joan’s back stiffened. “I like my job.”

  Allie cocked her head. “Don’t give me that. You do not. You might like aspects of your job, but in general you’re bored by it. Then you go home and sit in that dull, boring house with Gram.”

  Joan bristled. “Gram is not dull and boring.”

  “No, but she’s old.” Allie leaned as far forward as her belly would allow. “She’s in a different stage of life, Joan. You’re twenty-five. You can’t live like you’re eighty. You need to get out and do something.”

  “Like what? Join Mom’s bowling league? There’s so much going on in this town.” The bitterness in her voice surprised her. She stabbed at a cherry tomato with her fork.

  “I don’t know.” Allie shrugged. “Lexington is only a forty-minute drive, and there’s lots to do there. Take salsa dancing lessons, anything to get you out of the house.” She grinned. “How about dating that cute doctor next door?”

  Joan looked away. “Not an option.”

  “Why not? He’s absolutely gorgeous, and he’s a doctor, for cryin’ out loud. I’ll bet you could get him to ask you out.”

  “Actually, I think he’s interested in Tori.” Joan picked up her water glass and put the straw to her lips, trying to ignore the stab of jealousy she felt at that admission.

  Allie’s brow creased. “Are you sure about that? He seemed friendly with her the other day, but he definitely wasn’t falling all over himself.”

  “He came into the store Monday and told me how much he enjoyed meeting her. And I know she likes him. You saw her flirting with him on Sunday.”

  Allie waved a hand. “That doesn’t mean anything. Tori flirts with everybody. Besides, if she knew you were attracted to the guy, she’d back off.”

  Something in Allie’s tone set her teeth on edge. Did she think Joan could only get a guy if there was no competition? That she could only have someone else’s leftovers? She set her glass down a little harder than necessary. “What do you mean by that?”

  Allie looked up from her plate, startled. “By what?”

  “You think Tori has to back off in order for me to have a chance with a guy?”

  “I didn’t say that!”

  “But you thought it, didn’t you?”

  Allie tossed her fork onto the table. “Maybe I was wrong. Maybe you are going crazy. You’re imagining things.” She stopped, and a slow smile spread across her lips. “I know what’s wrong with you. You’re jealous. You like this doctor and it’s eating you up because you think he has a thing for your little sister.”

  Joan raised her chin. “I am not jealous.”

  “I think you are. And you should do something about it.” She grinned. “Set a goal for yourself, Joan Sanderson. Get the doctor to ask you out instead of Tori.”

  Joan’s jaw went slack. “You’re the one who’s insane.”

  “No, really. This is exactly the goal you need. And it’s completely achievable.”

  Remembering Ken’s glowing description of Tori in the store Monday, Joan wasn’t so sure. “But if he likes tiny blonde babes, why would he want to go out with me?”

  Allie dismissed that with a wave. “Men don’t know what they like. They rely on us to tell them. And you’re going to convince Dr. Gorgeous that he likes tall, athletic, beautiful brunettes.”

  Could she really make Ken interested in her instead of Tori? Allie’s confidence gave her a flicker of hope. “But what if Tori is interested in him?”

  As a kid, they’d had their fair share of struggles, but never over anything more serious than the use of the family car. Going after a guy her sister liked felt . . . wrong. Unnatural.

  Allie didn’t seem to think so. “Then you’ll have a little competition. But don’t worry, you’ve got the home court advantage.” She giggled. “This is going to be fun!”

  Joan wasn’t so sure, but she couldn’t deny feeling a spark of excitement that caused the corners of her mouth to twitch upward.

  For the rest of the day, Joan’s thoughts whirled as she replayed the conversation with Allie. She let Rosa handle the few customers who came into the store while she sat in the tiny office beside the loading dock in the back and tried to concentrate on her monthly inventory report.

  She had never gone after a guy before. Through high school, college, and beyond, she dated Roger. Their relationship was so comfortable neither of them had to be the aggressor. In the months since they broke up, she hadn’t gone on a single date. Maybe because she hadn’t been asked out on one.

  Well, except for the guy who tore tickets at the cinema, the one who looked like he could use a stint in rehab. He asked her out, but Joan refused. She wasn’t interested in a fixer-upper boyfriend.

  She bounced a pencil eraser on the desk. Ken definitely didn’t fall into that category. But he would be a challenge. Especially if he was attracted to blondes instead of brunettes . . .

  Stop. She refused to think that way. Tori might be more experienced when it came to dating, but Joan had some things going for her too. Ken called her pretty the day they met. She was healthy and fit, not an ounce of flab anywhere. She had a good job.

  No, Tori had a good job. Ken had a good job. Joan had a boring job. Scratch the job angle.

  She slid the pencil across the surface of the desk with a finger. What did she know about Ken? He owned a dog. If she made friends with Trigger, would Ken take notice of her? The idea rolled around in her head, sparking her interest. She could start carrying dog treats in her pocket. That way when she happened to bump into Ken walking his dog, or maybe in the backyard . . . No, stupid idea. What kind of dopey girl walks around with dog treats in her pocket? Plus, every dog in the neighborhood would be after her. She’d become known as the Pied Piper of Dogville. Imagine the newspaper headlines. She shuddered.

  But she could offer to help train Trigger.

  Joan rocked backward in her desk chair. That idea had possibilities.

  Brrring. Brrring.

  The phone pierced the silence of the small office like a claxon and caused Joan to jump nearly out of her chair. Goodness, she was edgy today. She took a breath and blew it out before she picked up the receiver. “Good afternoon, Abernathy’s.”

  “We have a situation.”

  Allie sounded serious, but Joan detected a touch of humor in her voice. She relaxed.

  “What situation?”

  “The competition has made the first move, and it’s a good one.”

  She could only mean one thing. “Tori?”

  “Exactly. She just called and told me she’s coming to dinner at the house tomorrow night, and she has instructed Gram to invite Dr. Gorgeous. She wants me and Eric to come too, so it’ll look like a big family gathering.”

  Joan’s grip on the telephone tightened. “Did you tell Tori that I—”

  “Of course not. If I tell her you’ve got a thing for the guy, she’ll back off, and I want this to be a fair competition.

  You need to see that you can compete with the best and win. You’ve got the right stuff, Joan Sanderson!”

  Joan couldn’t help laughing. “You sound like a football coach.”

  “I feel like one.”

  “Wait a minute.” Joan shook her head. “He leaves for the hospital before I get home, and works all night. He won’t be able to come to dinner.”

  “Not tomorrow. Thursdays are his days off. Tori had Mom check his schedule.”

  “Mom checked his schedule for Tori?” Joan fought to keep her voice calm. She remembered the look of pride on Mom’s face as she watched Tori flirt with Ken through the kitchen window.

  Don’t get upset. Mom doesn’t even know I like the guy. If she did, she wouldn’t choose sides. Would she?

  “Yeah, Mom,” said Allie. “But don’t worry. I’m in your corner. Now, I’m going to call in sick tomorrow. Can you take the day off?”

  “Whatever for? You said he’s coming tomorrow night.”

  “That only gives us twenty-six hours to get ready! We need to make effective use of the time.”

  “Actually, I’ve already got an idea to get on Ken’s good side.” She told Allie about the offer to help with Trigger.

  “That’s your big idea? Tori will show up for dinner wearing size two designer jeans and you’re going to offer to pick up his dog’s poop?” Allie’s snort blasted in her ear. “We’ve got more work ahead of us than I thought.”

  Well, yeah, put like that it sounded lame. Joan shifted her weight in the chair. “I just figured if I could—”

  “Don’t figure. You’ve got to get with the program, girl, and you obviously need my help. Take a vacation day tomorrow and we’ll go shopping.”

  Indecision seized Joan. The memory of Tori’s clothes on Sunday forced a mental review of her closet. The results were not promising. She grabbed the computer mouse and checked tomorrow’s schedule.

  “I can’t take the whole day, but I could probably leave at two when Pat gets here for the evening shift.”

  A heavy sigh sounded in her ear. “Okay, if that’s the best you can do. Pick me up at home as soon as you can.”

  ~ 8 ~

  Ken pulled the Probe into the driveway. With a cupped hand he shielded the clock display on the dashboard from the bright morning sun. 9:47. They’d had a rush just as he prepared to leave work at 6:30, and he ended up staying to help out. He hoped he didn’t miss the furniture delivery scheduled for this morning.

  He shut off the engine and rubbed his eyes. That new bed would feel good.

  The door to the house next door opened, and Joan’s grandmother came outside. She descended the front stairs leaning heavily on the handrail, but the minute her feet hit the ground, she made a beeline across the grass in his direction.

  “Ken, yoo hoo, Ken!” An arm waved above her head to get his attention.

  “Hello, Mrs. Hancock.” Ken got out of the car and closed the door. “How are you this morning?”

  “Fine, thank you.” She halted a few feet in front of him and peered into his face. “You look tired.”