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relationship.”
    “Oh, so your father and I are jinxes now,” her mother said. “Isn’t that just what every parent loves to hear from their daughter—that she considers them jinxes?”
    Debra rolled her eyes heavenward. “I never said you and Dad were jinxes, Mother. I said I didn’t want to jinx this. Youknow my track record with men. I don’t want to rush things, that’s all. Slow and steady wins the race.”
    “I prefer, ‘God can’t steer a parked car.’”
    “Mother.”
    “So, what did you two do last weekend? Anything romantic?”
    If you call decluttering the pantry, giving McGruff a bath and clipping his toenails romantic, then affirmative , Debra thought. She was saved the necessity of contriving another cozy weekend for two by her father’s arrival.
    “You’re late,” Debra’s mother barked. “It’s after two and we’re about to expire from hunger.”
    Debra smiled at her dad. He looked tired, she thought, his face wan against the white polo he wore. He approached Debra and put his arm around her shoulders.
    “Ah, daughter, it’s good to see you looking so chic. She looks like a glamorous movie star, doesn’t she, Alva?”
    “She gets her looks from my side of the family,” his wife reminded him.
    Debra’s dad winked at her. Her mother’s ancestral tree was inhabited by short, stubby, barrel-shaped body types with adorable little Buddha bellies.
    “She’s got that glow, our Debra,” her father continued. “I suppose we owe that to a certain young man named Logan. Am I right?”
    Debra grimaced and stabbed another tomato. Logan. Again with the Logan. Debra started to wish she’d never hatched this harebrained scheme.
    “You may get the pitcher of tea out of the refrigerator and pour us each a glass now, since your father has at last returned from hitting his little white ball, Debra,” her mother ordered.
    “Okay, Mom.” She grabbed the heavy glass pitcher of tea out of the fridge and began pouring it into the chilled glasses Alva had placed on the counter.
    “Speaking of your young man, I met Logan today, my dear,” Debra’s father said. “I must say, I approve. I heartilyapprove. You were right: You don’t find a man like Logan Alexander every day. I’m glad you had the good sense to snap him up.”
    Debra’s head jerked up. She stared at her father. “What did you just say?” she asked.
    “For heaven’s sake, Debra, you’re pouring tea all over my counter!” her mother scolded. “I should have known better than to ask you to do the pouring. You’ve never been able to pour without making a mess.”
    Debra set the pitcher down with a thud. More tea sloshed over the sides. “What did you say, Dad?” she asked her father again.
    He grabbed some paper towels and began sponging up the tea. “I said I met your mysterious Logan. Plays a damn fine round of golf, too. I’d give my eyeteeth to hit a tee shot like he can. Two hundred plus yards, straight as a string and right down the middle of the fairway. Beautiful. Just beautiful.”
    Debra gasped. Everything went out of focus, and she dropped like a stone to the bar stool beside her. She hit the edge and landed in a heap on the floor. Had the world gone suddenly mad? Or had she?
    Oblivious to her daughter on the floor at her feet, Debra’s mother pounced on her husband’s news like a dog on kibble. “You met him? You talked to him! Face-to-face? In the flesh? The man who may well be our future son-in-law?”
    Debra winced. Her mother was almost foaming at the mouth. The guy didn’t even exist and already her mother was ready to include him in the family Christmas and embroider his name on a fluffy red stocking!
    Debra’s father gave her a strange look as she got to her feet, rubbing her behind. “Well, to be quite honest, Alva, I did meet him in the flesh. Quite literally. We met in the locker room.”
    “Details!” Debra’s mother screamed. “I want details!”
    “I thought you said you were