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astonishment. Her desire. She had promised not to meddle, and she had every intention of keeping that promise. Yet—it would be so hard. Not to encourage. Not to nudge a bit. Not to pry enough to find out just what her father was thinking about this new member of their congregation.
    Cynthia found a small task and busied herself. The two ladies working beside her chatted as though they were old friends. From the living room came the rumble of male voices, punctuated often by hearty laughter. Somewhere in the dim distance, children’s voices called to one another. Cynthia knew they were in the basement family room, but she paid little attention to the rise and fall of childish chatter.
    Before Cynthia had fully gathered her thoughts, Judith was asking Cal to call the children. The meal was ready to be served.
    There was a good deal of commotion as the children, all five of them, scampered up from the basement and washed their hands at the bathroom sink as instructed. As the eldest and the only girl, Erin seemed to automatically take over. Soon she had her charges lined up, still-damp hands tucked behind their backs or fidgeting impatiently at their sides as they waited for grown-up instructions about where to sit.
    Judith had managed to get eleven chairs around her dining room table. Cal announced the seating arrangements, and with a minimum of bustle and noise under the circumstances, they all found their places.
    “This is so nice,” spoke Mrs. Weston warmly after the grace was said, looking around with her bright smile. “I always wanted a big family. God didn’t choose to bless us with one, but this  … this is next best. Sharing with others.”
    “You have just the one son?” asked Cynthia’s father, who sat next to her, thanks to Judith’s arrangements.
    “Just the one. But I couldn’t ask for a better one.” She gave her son a warm smile.
    What else could a mother say? thought Cynthia. I’d say the same thing myself under similar circumstances.
    “And I have just the one daughter,” her father continued the conversation.
    Cynthia prayed fervently that he wouldn’t say she was the best he could possibly have. He didn’t.
    “And two grandsons,” went on her father, proudly gracing Todd and Justin with a broad smile.
    “Two grandsons,” the woman repeated. “Well, you certainly are one up on me there. I can’t wait for grandchildren. Must be so much fun.”
    “Oh, it is. Keeps me young. And busy.” Cynthia’s father was still smiling as he looked at his boys.
    “It must be so much fun,” the woman repeated.
    Cynthia had the impression that Attorney Weston—P.C.—was stirring uneasily. She lifted her glance from her plate to give a brief peek in his direction. Yes, he did look a tad uncomfortable. He covered quickly by turning to Cal with a comment. Cynthia did not hear.
    Judith had outdone herself with the meal. Everything was delicious and brought many comments from the diners. Even Todd exclaimed with young-boy frankness that “everything sure was good.”
    The conversation flowed easily. Cynthia found herself straining to get in on more than one discussion at a time. Her father and Mrs. Weston chatted easily throughout the meal, often addressing a remark to the entire table. She heard manly chuckles and feminine titters and marveled at how quickly they seemed to become acquainted with each other. Now and then Cynthia cast anxious little looks toward Judith, but her friend usually seemed occupied with her conversation with P.C. Weston and Cal. Cynthia did overhear Judith’s favorite little joke about marrying Cal just so she could always be Wright. The attorney had grinned appreciatively.
    Cynthia, seated between her two sons as she had requested, often missed bits of the conversation because of the chatter of her offspring and the Wright children. It was unnerving when she wanted to hear everything that was being said at the table.
    After dessert the youngsters were excused and the