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knelt next to Sammie, gently explaining things to her.
    I glanced at the rapt expression on my daughter’s face and knew absolutely that I’d made the right decision despite my own doubts.
    Hayley stood to let Sammie decide which kitten she wanted.
    “Does your husband help you with the cats?” I asked
    “Yes. . . .” Hayley said, speaking loudly over Chris’s protests. “Well, he did. Right now he’s awfully busy. He’s thinking about a couple of job offers. But he’s promised he’ll help me again.”
    I thought Hayley seemed a little defensive in telling me so much, and I wondered if things were as good as she claimed.
    “Caaaa,” Chris wailed, pointing at the kittens with his fist.
    I jiggled him harder, and as his cries wavered back and forth from loud to louder, I encouraged Sammie to hurry. She finally decided. How, I’ll never know, because they all looked alike to me.
    Hayley complimented Sammie on her choice and put a tiny blue ribbon around the kitten’s neck. Then we followed her back through the house, twisting and turning our way to the front door.
    There Mr. Lee materialized as if by magic and was once again glued to my foot. Hayley noticed and smiled. “You should feel privileged, Trish. I’ve never known him to do that with a stranger.”
    I stared down at the cat, trying to communicate my desire for him to leave me alone. My mother taught me that getting up close and personal with someone I don’t know without an invitation is bad manners.
    I was shocked when the cat met my gaze, yowled, twined around my ankles a few times, then strolled to Hayley and sat on his haunches next to her, staring at me. Was he mocking me?
    Hayley handed us our coats.
    As I bundled up Chris, Hayley looked down at Sammie then back at me.
    “You can bring her back to visit the kitten.” Her face grew wistful. “You can come often.”
    That’s when I realized Hayley was lonely. I felt bad for her. Although I do believe money can make life easier, it can’t take the place of people.
    As I put the children in the car, a black BMW streaked up the driveway, pulling around the side of the house. I assumed that was Leighton, and my hunch was confirmed when the man I recognized from the picture on Hayley’s mantel walked back around the house.
    I waved, and he approached me.
    “Hello,” he said. “I assume you’re Trish Cunningham. Hayley said you were coming this afternoon.”
    “Yes.” I offered him my hand, and he shook it. Leighton Whitmore’s photo hadn’t done him justice.
    He was as tall as Max and good-looking in a way that age doesn’t impact. A mere photograph could never reveal the full extent of his charisma. Especially when he smiled like he was doing now.
    “Angelica and Andrew have told us all about you, and your husband speaks highly of you.”
    I smiled even as I wondered when Leighton had met Max. “It’s nice to meet you.”
    “And you, as well,” he said. He bent down and spoke to the children. We exchanged a few more pleasantries, then he disappeared inside.
    As I pulled down the driveway, I wondered if they were truly happy. Hayley didn’t seem to be. I had a fleeting thought that perhaps Angelica recognized Hayley’s loneliness, and that was the reason she invited Hayley to do things. Then I dismissed it. Angelica would never be that sensitive.

    I called Abbie as soon as I got home. I was eager to ask her if she’d heard Philip was in town, but she couldn’t talk. She was on the phone with Eric, who was out of town. I didn’t want to interrupt their conversation with a topic like her ex-husband. Philip’s presence could wait.
    I answered some e-mails, including one from Tommy, and another from Eric’s daughter, Sherry, who was Tommy’s girlfriend—a relationship that had continued after both of them graduated from high school.
    Tommy was doing well at college. He’d had a last-minute change of majors and was studying criminal justice, much to Max’s parents’ dismay.