“I’m sure we’ll find something for you to do,” her mother replied. “Now finish your dessert so we can clear away the dishes.”
Two hours later, Riley was still there. The kitchen had been cleaned and the science project completed. Afterward, they’d relaxed in front of an old sitcom on a cable oldies station for half an hour. Teresa sat on the couch with Maggie curled at her side. Riley and Mark were in the two chairs, legs stretched comfortably in front of them.
Something amusing happened on the television. Maggie and Mark responded with peals of giggles and Teresa with her soft, musical laughter. Riley looked from one to the other and smiled, thinking what a happy family they were. Mark and Maggie squabbled occasionally but seemed to get along quite well compared to many siblings he’d spent time around. Teresa enforced her rules firmly, but lovingly.
He’d read recently that the most effective parents set high expectations yet provided a high level of support and approval, as opposed to setting high expectations backed with little support or just generally setting low expectations. Teresa seemed to belong to that first category, and her success was evident in her children’s self-confidence and good behavior.
Wryly amused at the direction his thoughts had taken, he wondered why he was suddenly philosophizing about parenting styles, Teresa’s in particular. He must really be working hard to keep from worrying about Bud—not that he was succeeding.
“Okay, guys, time for bed,” Teresa announced when the program ended. “Tell Riley good-night and head upstairs.”
Maggie immediately climbed to her feet, but Mark protested. “Can’t I stay up a little longer? I’m not sleepy yet.”
“You will be as soon as you’re in bed,” Teresa answered firmly. “No more arguments tonight.”
Mark sighed gustily, but he didn’t press his luck any further. “G’night, Riley,” he muttered. “Thanks for helping me with my science project.”
“You’re welcome. I hope you get an A.”
Maggie climbed onto Riley’s chair, threw her arms around his neck and planted a noisy kiss on his cheek. “Good night, Riley.”
He swallowed before he answered. “Good night, Mags. Sweet dreams.”
?
??You have sweet dreams, too,” she replied with her angelic, gap-toothed smile.
“Thanks. I’ll try.”
“I’ll be up in a bit to tuck you in,” Teresa told her children. From her seat on the couch, she watched them dash up the stairs, then she turned to Riley with a smile. “Mark never goes to bed without a fuss. Tonight was relatively easy.”
“I used to fight bedtime every night,” Riley admitted. “My mom finally started deducting fifteen minutes from the next night’s bedtime for every time I complained.”
Teresa chuckled. “I bet you were a handful.”
“Some people would say that’s still true.”
They were looking at each other again, and Riley thought he saw a wave of self-consciousness cross her face. He wondered if she, too, was suddenly remembering that brief, shadowy interlude in his car. Clearing her throat, she dragged her gaze away from him, looking toward the stairway as she asked, “Is there anything I can get for you? Something else to eat or drink?”
“No. You need to take care of your children.” He stood. “Thanks for dinner. It was very good.”
She walked him to the door. “Try not to worry too much about your uncle tonight. I know he’ll call you soon. He’ll miss you too much to stay away permanently.”
Standing in front of the door, he traced the faint line of concern between her eyes with the tip of one finger. “You have enough people to worry about without adding me to your list. I’m all right.”
Searching his face, she asked, “Are you really?”
“Mostly,” he amended. “Tonight helped.”
“I hope so.”
On an impulse he didn’t try to resist, he leaned down to place a firm kiss on her lips. “Sweet dreams, Teresa. Lock the door behind me.”
He slipped out before she could answer—and before he could be tempted to stay longer. He closed the door firmly between them. There was a noticeable pause before he heard the dead bolt slide home. Only then did he enter his own apartment.
He turned on the television as soon as he walked into his living room—not because he particularly cared about watching anything, but because his rooms seemed too quiet without it. Hearing a faint mental echo of the Scott family’s laughter, he went upstairs to his office and straight to his computer. He figured it was as good a time as any to start his search for answers.
It wasn’t as if he had anything else to do.