he announced amid the expected groans and protests.
“It’s summer,” Timmy said. “There’s no school tomorrow.”
“But you do have a job now,” Slade reminded them. “Ms. Wilde will expect you to be alert first thing in the morning.” He glanced over to find her trying to hold back a don’t-blame-this-on-me look.
“I guess we forgot,” Kevin said. “Don’t worry, Dani. We’ll get all our chores done.”
“I’m sure you will,” she said complacently.
“Then will you let us play computer games?” Timmy asked. “We could teach one to you.”
She looked properly aghast at the suggestion. “Play indoors on a lovely summer day? I don’t think so. I was thinking it might be more fun if I invited some of the children down the street over for a picnic,” she said casually, drawing wary looks from both boys.
“We don’t know them,” Kevin said, sounding hesitant.
Slade winced. He’d been so sure that waiting to move until the school year ended was the sensible thing to do. He hadn’t stopped to think that school was where most children met their friends.
Not that either Timmy or Kevin were social creatures. They were too much like him, content to spend hours engrossed with their computers. Clearly, Dani had guessed that and was intent on changing it. He knew instinctively that she was right, that the boys needed to be encouraged to make new friends.
“A picnic sounds like a terrific idea to me,” he chimed in. “I envy you guys. I’ll be shut away in here, while you’re outside enjoying the sunshine.”
“You could join us,” Dani said at once, surprising him by seizing on his support. “I know you have to work and all, but my house is close by. It doesn’t take more than a few minutes to get there. You could run over, eat and be back here almost as quickly as you could fix something for yourself.”
Slade practically never ate lunch. He was usually too caught up in his work to even notice when noon came and went. But suddenly the rigidity of that single-minded focus grated. He pushed aside all thoughts of the impending deadline he faced.
“Are you sure you wouldn’t mind my eating and running?”
“Absolutely not,” she assured him with a smile.
“You’ll really come, Dad?” Timmy said, looking awed.
“Absolutely. Now run along to bed. I’ll be up to tuck you in in a half hour. Lights had better be out by then.”
With obvious reluctance they took off, but only after hugging Dani. Kevin had whispered something in her ear that had made her smile.
After they were gone, Slade said, “You have yourself a couple of huge fans.”
“They’re wonderful boys.”
“Even after what they did to you yesterday and to your petunias today, you can still say that? You’re amazingly generous.”
“Oh, for goodness’ sakes, it was a few pies,” she said dismissively, “and a few flowers. It’s not like they burned the house down.”
“Give them time,” Slade countered.
She chuckled at that.
“Hey, I’m serious. Don’t let them out of your sight for a minute.”
“I’m not worried,” she said, though her expression contradicted it. “There is one thing I was wondering about, though.”
“What’s that?”
“They seemed to be nervous about meeting the other children in my neighborhood. Shouldn’t I have suggested that?”
“Of course you should. They need to develop friendships. They used to have kids over all the time when they were younger.” He thought back to when that had changed. He’d been blaming it on his own pattern of social ineptness, but he recognized suddenly that that was only a part of the problem.
“What is it?” Dani asked.
“I just realized that all that stopped after my wife’s accident. They started sticking closer to home. Because she was in so much pain, we discouraged the boys from having their friends come by. Amanda was at home for nearly two months before she died.” He rubbed his suddenly stinging eyes. “God, how could