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as if it instinctively knew it were under some threat.
    She slowly continued toward the staircase. Then she hurried down the steps, eager to leave the house and get on with the excitement that the day promised.
     
    Harlan carried Jillian's bags into the house and paused in the entranceway to listen for Dana. All was deadly quiet. He turned back as Jillian came up behind him, that angelic smile on her face. Dana's mother had soft, small features and almost always wore a kind or gentle expression. Harlan had heard it said that a husband should take a good look at his mother-in-law to see what his wife would be like in twenty years or so. In this case he hoped it was true.
    Dana had inherited Jillian's small, graceful nose, her prominent, high cheekbones and delicate lips. They had the same hazel eyes, only Dana's were more often green. Jillian's hair was a darker brown, a color she kept free of gray. She was a small-framed woman who stood just five feet seven but who kept her figure so well that it was difficult for anyone to believe she was indeed sixty-four years old.
    Her skin was remarkable. The lines around her eyes and at the corners of her mouth hadn't gotten any deeper or any longer since her late thirties. Her cheeks habitually had a young woman's flush in them, and her neck was as smooth and as graceful as it had been when she was merely twenty. It was as if age itself was in remission when it came to Jillian Stanley.
    Her dark green leather suit and white silk blouse looked no worse for travel. That was one of the things Harlan admired about his mother-in-law: She always looked so elegant, so together, no matter what time of the day it was, or what the circumstances were.
    Dana had inherited that same meticulousness when it came to her clothing and her appearance. She never left the house, even to go pick up a bottle of milk at the convenience store, unless her hair was neatly brushed and her colors matched.
    "You get to appreciate a ranch-style house when you have an infant," Jillian said, looking up the stairs. "We were already in the town house when Dana was born, and carting her up and down or going down for formula made me wish we all slept in the kitchen."
    "It's no inconvenience now. You know Dana's breast feeding."
    "Oh, that's right. Funny," Jillian said, "how the more things change, the more they stay the same. I didn't breast-feed, but my mother did. Now modern science and medicine renews its faith in the natural way."
    "Don't get Dana on the topic; she's an expert. She even makes talks to prospective mothers. The baby-formula companies have taken a contract out on her. If she had her way, they'd be out of business."
    Jillian laughed.
    "Let's get your bags up to the guest room," he said, and started up the stairs.
    "Colleen's not home yet?"
    "She won't be home until after dinner. Big football game today, and her boyfriend's the starting quarterback."
    "Oh. Wish I had gotten here earlier. I'd have gone to the game with her."
    "I bet you would have," Harlan said. He put Jillian's bags in the guest room and the two of them headed for the master bedroom. They paused in the doorway, however. Dana was fast asleep. She was on her back, her head turned to the side, her arms resting comfortably on her thighs.
    "Maybe she just finished feeding him," he whispered.
    "She does look tired, Harlan," Jillian said. "Drained from the whole experience. Poor thing. To lose a child and then gain one and have to care for it like this…"
    "Well, he's up a lot at night. Maybe he's a bat," Harlan added, and shrugged.
    "Let's look in on him," Jillian said. They went to the baby's room. Nikos was in just as deep a sleep and was also on his back with his head to the side and his arms crossed so that his hands rested on his thighs. "How unusual," Jillian remarked. "Sleeping on his back, but he's adorable," Jillian said. "I can't believe that carrot top."
    "Some coincidence, huh?"
    Jillian widened her eyes and raised her eyebrows,