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dinner here. Grandma says do you want to come?”
    â€œTell her no, thank you. But call me again if you’ll be later than 7:30 p.m., okay?”
    â€œYeah. Grandma says she’s gonna get me my own cell phone.”
    â€œNo, she’s not…” Mike shook his head. The connection was severed. There were possibly going to be a few complications, living this close to grandparents. Four years old? A cell phone? Not.
    The other two calls he let go to the answering machine. Working with water and grease and heat under the sink was a whole lot more fun than talking to his ex. Nancy wanted to arrange a time to be with Teddy.
    He’d call her back.
    When he got around to it.
    Even hearing her voice put a snarl in his mood. He was long over Nancy, but still testy on some of the divorce details. He was working on moving on, getting past it, all those stupid slogan words that divorced people used. But it was one thing to have a failed marriage…another to have your marriage endbecause your wife took off with a germ-freak nerd who couldn’t weigh more than one hundred and fifty pounds.
    That she could desire such a jerk was part of what festered. Even if the marriage had long lost its luster before the divorce, Mike never had any reason to doubt his ex was happy in bed. It wasn’t losing her that hurt. It was losing her to such a ninny. His sexual pride still felt stomped on by a bulldozer.
    Anyway. He’d had enough of chores by four o’clock. He showered, put on old shorts and his Harvard tee—his favorite, as exhibited by the frayed neck and holes—called the hound and aimed for the deck. Teddy wouldn’t be home for a couple of hours. He figured a half hour of slouch time in the shade was just what the doctor ordered.
    He opened the door to the deck—and almost tripped over a twelve pack of beer. Cold beer. Dripping, sweating cold. A fancy longneck brand. Bottles.
    It was enough to make a warrior weep. Since he only hit a grocery store when he was desperate—those places were terrifying—he hadn’t picked up beer or any other side goodies. He glanced around for a note, but he already knew who’d done this to him—even before he turned his head.
    One glance was all it took to identify the slim, bare foot perched on the white lawn chair next door.
    Her deck was smaller than his, with a latticeprivacy half wall—which was why he couldn’t see the rest of her body. But he could see the foot. And the curve of her white calf.
    The Sissy Dog was snoozing on her lap, but as if sensing testosterone in the air, she jumped to the ground and sat at the edge of the deck. Slugger was too tired to move—his position on life, twenty-three hours out of twenty-four—but his tail started wagging like a metronome.
    Mike ignored the critters. He could hear Amanda talking on a cell phone, even if he couldn’t see it. He opened a beer. He didn’t want or mean to listen. He just figured he’d hang for a few moments so he could thank her once she finished her call. Except, she kept talking.
    â€œMom. Come on now. You know I love you, and I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I’m just asking you not to call her princess… Yes, I know the kitten’s name is Princess, but that’s entirely different—Molly named her, and I couldn’t talk her out of it. Mom…”
    The foot lifted. Disappeared from sight. He heard the clunk of a glass, as if she’d poured something and then set the glass down on a metal surface.
    â€œI know you called me princess. And you were a wonderful mom. The best. Dad was a wonderful dad. The best. But you two spoiled me rotten. I really want to raise Molly more independent than I was. I don’t want her expecting…”
    The foot showed up moments later with sex-red color on some of the toes. So. She was drinking, talking to her mother and repainting her toenails all at the same time.