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out at the mountains glimmering against the deep blue sky.
    “Come to dinner Friday. You can sleep over. That way you can drink wine with me. I’ll even write you a note.”
    I chortle. “Very funny. I would love to come over. Those two kids of yours are the cutest things.”
    “They think you’re pretty great, too. You make up good bedtime stories. They’ll be excited when I tell them.”
    “What should I bring?” We’ve stopped at a red light, and she turns up the radio.
    “Just yourself. No, wait.” She looks over at me. “How about some grown-up dessert?”
    “Deal.” We both sing loudly with Rihanna as we head to the office.

Chapter 9

    Clara and Tim live in small pre-fab house in a neighborhood full of them. It’s eight hundred square feet of ranch with three bedrooms and one bathroom. Clara’s idea of decorating is to frame pictures of her life. A decent photographer, her walls are a wonderful story. I love to tease her kids by pointing to a picture and making up a silly tale to go with it. They could play the game all night.
    The gravel rumbles as I pull into her driveway. I see a red Jeep and smell trouble. I bet they’ve invited some single guy, just right for me. I let out a big sigh and prepare myself mentally. Three months without a boyfriend has been healing. The next one will have to meet all the requirements, and Jeep boy is probably not it.
    But that doesn’t mean I have to look frumpy. I pop open my glove box to find an eyelash curler and mascara. I adjust my ponytail a bit higher and pull out some tendrils. A little coral pink lipstick and I’m good to go.
    Five-year-old Benjamin and seven-year-old Jenny wiggle with excitement behind the glass door. I ring the doorbell anyway.
    “Casey! Casey! You’re here!” They push open the door and I step in. I squat down to their level.
    “Clara? Tim? Gosh you two have gotten smaller. You haven’t been eating your vegetables, have you?”
    Giggling, they jump on me.
    “Casey, it’s me Benjamin. You’re so silly.”
    “Oh gosh, that makes sense. Whew, for a minute I thought I would have to cook up some spinach.”
    Clara yells from the kitchen. “Casey! So glad you’re here. I’m afraid I started without you. Come on in and get your glass.”
    The house is small but cozy. As I walk forward, there’s a couch on the right, a hall, and straight ahead is the kitchen entry. To the left is a section of wall that stops, and beyond is the small dining room.
    Stepping into the kitchen, I notice a second entryway on the left that leads to the dining room. A big pot steams on the stove. As I take the glass of wine, I lean over to smell dinner. Well, and to steam the hair around my face into spiral curls. Cayenne spice hits my nose. Garlic, tomato, rice, and something lumpy, is it Cajun?
    “Jambalaya. I felt the need to spice things up for us tonight.” Clara gives me a wink. “Come meet Blaine.”
    I take a quick sip for courage and venture into the dining room. Oh my. There at the table is a very fine-looking man with blond hair. Ice-blue eyes look up at me. He has that perpetual goggle-face tan of a daily skier. He’s in a tight, long-sleeve tee that leaves no doubt about his hard-earned ripped body. Are those flip-flops on his feet propped up on the chair?
    “Blaine, this is my friend Casey.”
    “Hey. Tim tells me you should be an instructor, and I’m here to help convince you.”
    Uh-huh, and maybe get a little something on the side too, beach boy? He is way too beautiful to not be looking for a little action. But okay, I’ll play for a while. I give Clara points for picking a cute one. We’ll reserve judgment on personality for a bit longer. Maybe I’m wrong, but he has the look of someone who is a little too into himself.
    Benjamin grabs my hand. “Casey, come play with us. Uncle Blaine helped us set up the train.”
    Uncle Blaine? Is he Tim or Clara’s brother? I start to scrutinize him and see he does look a bit like Clara.