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coming in. But, as her own mother had frequently told her, “Motherhood is an incurable disease.“ She reminded herself she had no reason to worry about Mike. Of all her children—of all the children she knew well, in fact—he was the most sensible and responsible. A smart aleck, of course, but sensible just the same. While Katie and Todd threw fits about her rules and restrictions, Mike never had. He just made fun of her.
    “Oh, yeah, Mom,“ he’d said cheerfully when she set his curfew at eleven a few years ago, “I forgot that the knife-wielding mass murderers all have their alarms set for eleven.“ Laughing in spite of herself, she’d backed off and settled for eleven-thirty.
    She knew he wasn’t out drinking, or driving like a loony, or letting anyone else drive his new truck. But she still worried. She knew it was partly because of the death at the deli, but on reflection she knew both Mel and Shelley were right. And she was oddly comforted by learning that both Stonecipher’s wife and his partner had been there, too. Surely the reason for his death had something to do with his life. And nothing whatsoever to do with Mike or anybody else.
    She finally fell into a light sleep, but woke again soon. There was an odd noise somewhere. Staggering to the bathroom, she realized the plumbing was making that sound that meant water was running somewhere. But she hadn’t left the dishwasher or yard sprinkler running, so what was it? Dear God, what if the antique water heater had finally crumbled. How did a person find a plumber, much less afford one in the middle of the night!
    She threw on her robe and hurried down the stairs, but as she passed through the kitchen, she heard a noise in the driveway. Thank God.
    Mike was home. Men, even young ones, had some built-in genetic affinity with pipes. She glanced out the kitchen window and found herself tearing up again. Mike was home, all right. And she’d remember what she was seeing now every time she made a car payment.
    It was one in the morning and he was washing his new truck as tenderly as a mother washes a newborn.

5

    Jane got up early, took her coffee outside, and sat on the patio. Her cats, Max and Meow, assumed, erroneously, that this activity was going to have something to do with food for them, and followed her, stropping themselves against her legs. “You were just fed!“ she reminded them. Willard wanted to go bark aimlessly and she wouldn’t let him, so he settled next to her and mumbled to himself about every bird and squirrel he saw. A few minutes later Todd stumbled out to sit with her. Not being a teenager quite yet, he hadn’t adopted the belief that summers were for sleeping till noon and staying up all night.
    Fortunately, he wasn’t gabby in the morning, so they sat in companionable silence, Jane with her coffee, Todd with a glass of milk. Todd petted Willard with his foot, and the big dog rolled over, waving his saucer-sized feet in the air and groaning happily.
    Mike joined them shortly. He looked tired, but happy. “I’m going to go get my cap and gown and come back to sleep until I have to go to work at eleven,“ he said.
    “About your job—“ Jane began.
    “Todd, Willard needs a few Frisbee tosses before I go,“ Mike said. “You know where it is?”
    Todd got up and went back in the house and Mike sat down. “Look, Mom, I know everything you’re going to say. Somebody got killed at the deli—“
    “You knew that?“
    “It’s what everybody’s saying. Mel and a couple other cops are talking to everyone who was there and that doesn’t happen for an accident. Anyway, you don’t think it’s safe. But, Mom, I can’t quit. Mr. Baker’s counting on me to do the deliveries. His wife’s in the hospital and Mrs. Axton has to do double work to help with the cooking, which she’s not very good at, and the cleaning up, and I can’t leave them in a lurch like that. But I’ll make you a deal. I’ll only go inside to pick up