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like Scott Hammond. “I’ve never met anyone who didn’t like him.”
    “I hardly know the man,” she said. “Which makes inviting him to Sunday dinner a little awkward.”
    Howard smiled at that. “Oh. Is that all? Well, he’ll fix that soon enough. I never met anyone who didn’t like him. Everything the man touches turns to gold. It’s hard not to like him.”
    Great. Howard was repeating himself and the space between her eyes was filling with a pressure that promised to be a full-blown headache before dessert. The evening was taking on the dimensions of a wide-awake nightmare.

THREE
    “T HIS IS REALLY NICE of you to invite me over,” Scotty was saying as he flipped the latch on the garden gate—which was something else that annoyed her. There was no way to lock him out from her side of the fence. “I’ve been working all day and I’m starving. The smell of barbecue in the air has been driving me and Bert crazy for the past hour. I was just now going after fast food, but this is much better,” he said, walking across her neatly trimmed grass, Bert lumbering behind. “Nothing beats home cooking. Right, Howard?”
    “That’s for sure. Not when you’re single,” he agreed, smiling brightly at him. “I look forward to Sunday all week long.”
    Scott turned his whole face into a frown and tried to look confused.
    “Just Sunday? Aren’t you and Ms. Miller...? Oh. You’re not one of those weekend-only cooks, are you, Ms. Miller? My mom used to tell my sisters that there was no shorter way to a man’s heart than through his stomach.”
    The rain cloud burst and silence fell like water in a monsoon as eyes turned to her, waiting for her comment to his remark—which wasn’t about cooking at all, but her relationship with Howard.
    “Well,” she said, clearing her throat. “I’m sure your mother was correct. I understand you have several married sisters here in town, and I’m sure they’re all excellent cooks. In fact, I bet you could—”
    “That’s right, I do,” he said, cutting her off with a huge smile. “All but Donna, that is. Well, she’s a great cook and she’s married, she just doesn’t live here in Tylerville anymore.”
    “How fascinating.”
    “How is Donna?” Howard asked, looking too eager to know.
    “Just great. Saw her and her brood of kids a couple weeks ago. She’s just great. Sure do miss having her around though.”
    “Me too,” Howard said, so wistfully that when he realized what he’d said, he blushed, and for the first time in perhaps...ever, he had everyone’s full attention. “I mean...well, she was younger than I was, but I had this...well, a little crush on her in high school.” He laughed self-consciously, shook his head, and took a bite of his hamburger.
    Scotty chuckled sympathetically. “You’re in good company, Howard. The streets of this town are littered with hearts my sisters have broken. Pains me to see it. And I never could understand it.”
    Howard shook his head and held up his hand, chewing and swallowing quickly. “You’re their brother,” he said, stating the obvious with some authority. “Brothers never understand the attraction other men have toward their sisters.”
    “Well, I understand it now, of course, but back then...” he said, his voice softening a bit with affection. He came to stand beside Gus at the end of the table, reaching over her to take the paper plate and juicy hamburger Lydia was handing to him. “It was tough being the only boy. Thanks. Looks great. It was just me and my dad and that house full of women.”
    “How’s it going over there,” Alan asked, passing the potato salad. “I smelled paint all the way out in the driveway when we got here. Need any help?”
    Paint? She hadn’t smelled any paint—other than that of her own redecorating. But since he was still standing beside her and his hands were in her line of vision, she could see that there were little specks and smudges of paint on his hands that