We'd all watched her grow up. The whole town had been to her and Bram's wedding."
"She sounds like another favorite."
He nodded. "But not like Dylan. More like Kitty. Everyone watched out for Alicia. But then ... she was gone." D. B. stared straight ahead. "It wasn't fair, but who other than a judge should be able to handle that? Instead, I lashed out against my own son, who was already hurting."
He looked at Samantha and took her hand, because he had to touch her. "We had always been close, Dylan and I. I screwed that up."
She squeezed his fingers. "If you think I'm going to pass judgment on how a parent behaves toward their child, D. B., you're looking at the wrong woman."
Her clear empathy relieved the ache in his chest. He lifted their linked hands to kiss her knuckles. "Right back at you, sweetheart. When you had Kitty, you were just a kid yourself. You did the right thing."
She glanced away. "Did I?"
"Uh-huh. It's not easy raising a child under the best of circumstances. I know I wouldn't want to go through it again."
Her chin lowered. "No, I didn't think you would."
"I just wish being home didn't make Dylan so miserable."
"I stopped by Aunt Cat's earlier this evening and saw him there." She disengaged their hands. "He didn't seem all that unhappy, if you ask me."
D. B. gave her a sharp look. "Really? How did he seem?"
She cocked her head, as if thinking back. "Almost ... relaxed. Aunt Cat was dragging all the Wilder skeletons out of the closet and he was egging her on."
D. B. smiled, heartened by the thought of his son enjoying himself. Maybe Dylan was finding home palatable after all. God, that made him feel better. That, and the fact that the woman who fascinated him more than any other he'd ever known was no farther than an elbow away. He lifted the one closest to Samantha and gave her a gentle poke in the ribs.
"Maybe I need to make a visit to Cat myself," he said. "It's hard to envision the Wilder skeletons skulking in closets. Stripteasing in the sunlight, maybe, but not skulking anywhere." He grinned down at Samantha.
She didn't laugh, as he had expected her to.
New worry dragged at his lifting mood. "Samantha? What's wrong?"
Her gaze met his, but in the dim light he had to let his imagination paint the blue of her eyes. She half smiled. "I'm just tired."
He thought of going back to her place - no, to his. They could open both sets of French doors in the master bedroom suite and the night breeze would blow across them while they ate their Chinese in bed. Afterward he would tuck the covers around her and guard over the sleep she so much deserved.
No one need know about it. That was the one good thing about having a nearly estranged son. If Dylan discovered that Samantha stayed the night, he wouldn't say a word on the subject to D. B. or anyone else.
"What did you order?" he asked her.
"Vegetable fried rice and cashew chicken."
"Soup, broccoli beef, and chow mein for me," he said. "They would be good together, yours and mine."
She hesitated.
That worry tickled the back of his mind again. "Damn it, Samantha," he said, not sure why he was swearing or even why he suddenly felt so anxious, "we're good together."
Her mouth opened. He tensed, but then the front door of the restaurant opened, and a foursome entered. A familiar foursome. Without thinking, he jumped up from the bench and stepped away from Samantha.
She moved too, sliding further into the shadows.
"D. B.!" Bob Byer hailed him. D. B. walked forward to greet the other man, his wife, Amy, and Pearl and Red Morton.
The men had also attended the Odd Fellows meeting, though they had sat at a different table. D. B. shook their hands and kissed Amy and Pearl on their respective cheeks. "You people are hungry too?"
Bob grinned, then shot a teasing look at his wife. "Not us. It was Amy and Pearl."
D. B. chuckled at Amy's sputters of mock outrage, while warily eyeing the more subdued Pearl and Red. Word around town was that the Mortons had hit a troubled patch, and if their demeanor was any indication, the word was right on the money.
"But I'm glad we bumped into you, D. B.," Bob said, rubbing his hands together. "The Park Committee came up with an idea tonight that we wanted to run by you."
"Oh?" Out