When he rushed out, she slipped on her shoes and a thin black sweater. After a check in the mirror, she decided the accessories took the dress into the could-be-casual, could-be-more area she'd been shooting for.
She picked up her bag and, checking the contents as she went, walked into the next bedroom. Luke was sprawled belly-down on the floor - his favored position - frowning miserably over his arithmetic book.
"Trouble, handsome?"
He lifted his head, and his face was aggrieved in the way only a young boy could manage. "I hate homework. "
"Me too. "
"Gavin did the touchdown dance, with his fingers in the air, 'cause he finished first. "
Understanding the demoralization, she sat on the floor beside him. "Let's see what you've got. "
"How come I have to know two plus three, anyway?"
"How else would you know how many fingers you have on each hand?"
His brow beetled, then cleared with a delighted smile. "Five!"
With the crisis averted, she helped him with the rest of the problems. "There, all done. That wasn't so bad. "
"I still hate homework. "
"Maybe, but what about the touchdown dance?"
On a giggle, he leaped up and did his strut around the room.
And all, she thought, was right in her little world once more.
"How come you're not going to eat here? We're having cheeseburgers. "
"I'm not entirely sure. You'll behave for Miss Roz?"
"Uh-huh. She's nice. Once she came out in the yard and threw the ball for Parker. And she didn't even mind when it got slobbered. Some girls do. I'm going down now, okay? 'Cause I'm hungry. "
"You bet. "
Alone, she got to her feet, automatically picking up the scatter of toys and clothes that hadn't made it back onto the shelf or into the closet.
She ran her fingers over some of their treasures. Gavin's beloved comic books, his ball glove. Luke's favorite truck, and the battered bear he wasn't yet ashamed to sleep with.
The prickle between her shoulder blades had her stiffening. Even under the light sweater her arms broke out in gooseflesh. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a shape - a reflection, a shadow - in the mirror over the bureau.
When she spun, Hayley swung around the door and into the room.
"Logan's just pulling up in front of the house," she began, then stopped. "You okay? You look all pale. "
"Fine. I'm fine. " But she pushed a not-quite-steady hand at her hair. "I just thought. . . nothing. Nothing. Besides pale, how do I look?" And she made herself turn to the mirror again. Saw only herself, with Hayley moving toward her.
"Two thumbs up. I just love your hair. "
"Easy to say when you don't wake up with it every morning. I thought about putting it up, but it seemed too formal. "
"It's just right. " Hayley edged closer, tipping her head toward Stella's. "I did the redhead thing once. Major disaster. Made my skin look yellow. "
"That deep, dense brown's what's striking on you. " And look at that face, Stella thought with a tiny twist of envy. Not a line on it.
"Yeah, but the red's so now. Anyway, I'm going to go on down. I'll keep Logan busy until. You wait just a few more minutes before you head down, then we'll all be back in the kitchen. Big burger feast. "