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controls, Emmett shrugged. “No problem. We’ll wait.”
    But waiting made her nervous. To distract herself, she scanned the cars nearby, checking out the other mothers waiting behind their wheels. They all seemed to be doing three things at once—talking on cell phones and filing their nails andscanning small calendars, or talking on cell phones, sipping bottled water and handing toys to small children in car seats. They wore their hair in perky short cuts or high perky ponytails.
    She combed her fingers through her long, straight fall of blond hair. “Maybe I should do something with all this.”
    â€œIt’s beautiful.”
    Her chin jerked toward Emmett. She’d forgotten he was there. “What?”
    â€œYour hair. It’s beautiful. You’re beautiful.”
    She felt herself flushing again. “You…I…I wasn’t fishing for compliments.”
    â€œI’m stating facts. I saw how you were looking at the other women and it wasn’t so hard to follow your train of thought. You don’t need to worry about how you measure up.”
    â€œYou’re quite the observer,” she said, not sure that she liked that about him.
    He shrugged. “Just some of Uncle Sam’s fine training. But you’re familiar with that, aren’t you? Ryan said you were an agent with the Treasury Department before your accident. That you were looking into some discrepancies in the books at Fortune TX, Ltd. and that’s how you met Cameron Fortune, Ricky’s father.”
    â€œCameron Fortune.” She repeated the name, then looked away. “I’ll bet your Uncle Sam training made it clear you shouldn’t get personal with the target of an investigation. That you shouldn’t fall in love with him and then do something as stupid as sleep with him.”
    â€œIs that what happened?” Emmett asked quietly.
    â€œI don’t know.” She scrubbed her hands over her face. “That’s what Ryan pieced together in the days after the accident. But when I came fully conscious, I couldn’t add any more to the story. My memory of those months at the Fortunes’ company are completely gone. I remember crossing the stage to receive my master’s degree when I was twenty-one years old. I remember going straight from there to the fifteen-week new agent training course. The next thing I remember is Nancy Armstrong talking to me, her face starting to sharpen in focus. I looked her straight in the eye and told her I wanted a Diet Pepsi, the first clear words I’d spoken in nine years. But between the diploma and the diet drink…almost nothing.”
    â€œNothing of your feelings for Cameron?”
    Lifting her hands, she shook her head. “No.”
    â€œMust make it hard to believe you’re a mother, then.”
    She was afraid to admit to it. “But I am. Ricky’s been blessed to have Nancy and Dean. They’ve raised him as their grandson. But I’m his mother.” And, please God, let me start feeling like one any moment now. She cared about the little boy. It wasn’t hard to enjoy a rambunctious, normal kid, but mothering him… How did one learn the rules of that?
    In the distance, a school bell rang. Around them, car doors opened and those confident, perky-haired mothers emerged, cell phones still in one hand, satchel-sized purses or bottles of water or toddlers in the other.
    Taking a deep breath, Linda pushed down on the door handle. “I’ll be right back,” she told Emmett.
    â€œI’ll come with you.”
    A real mother wouldn’t need his presence, but she didn’t bother putting up even a token protest. Instead, she shoved her hands into the front pockets of her jeans and followed the trail of women heading toward the front gates of the school.
    A troop of kids in yellow plastic hard hats emerged first, some carrying Stop signs. Linda glanced over at