George wanted to know what it was like raising five sons. “Like war,” she answered. “My husband was a good father, but he worked long hours and plenty of overtime. I learned early that I’d better make sure they understood my word was law, or I was doomed. I know they called me the Enforcer behind my back. God knows what they call me now!”

They talked about their friends, their hobbies, their favorite foods and books, trips they’d like to take, their homes and what they liked about them. They talked about their community service—he liked the soup kitchen and food drives, she moderated a grief group at church and was drafted for every fundraiser they had. Eventually they talked about their spouses and their deaths. Maureen’s husband had developed congestive heart failure and, although he was being treated, he didn’t live long after the diagnosis. “I guess he tried to ignore his symptoms too long and, though I hounded him, he wouldn’t see the doctor. Men don’t, you know. And good wives don’t want to aggravate them by nagging. If I had to do it over, I’d have had him abducted and taken off to the doctor for a full exam.”

“No doubt,” George said. “I know what you mean.”

She asked about his wife. “Well, a similar situation. Her doctor harped about a colonoscopy to be safe, to make sure there was nothing wrong. Something a person should really have done around the age of fifty. But Mary was obstinate—it sounded dreadful to her and she put it off. She had no symptoms of any kind, after all. What neither of us realized, once you have symptoms, you might have waited too long. She went through surgery and chemo, which bought her a year.” He gave her a small smile.

She surprised herself by covering his hand. “Time eases a lot. I did the best I could back then, and so did you.”

In the early afternoon they packed up their picnic and proceeded to Ferndale to stroll the neighborhoods to see the houses, dawdling and talking and laughing. They had an ice cream and looked in the shop windows and finally climbed the steep cemetery hill on the outskirts of town. Maureen was fascinated by the head-stones and read many of them. Suddenly she looked at her watch and realized she hadn’t been paying attention to the time. “Oh, my God!” she said, plucking the cell phone out of her purse. “Rosie!”

“It’s only three,” George said.

“But I promised to pick her up today at three!”

“I can have you there by three-thirty. They’re not going to leave her on the curb, are they?”

“No, they’re open till six for working parents, but…”

He grabbed her wrist firmly to get her attention. “Maureen, call the day-care center and tell them you’re on your way. No harm done.”

“Sean. I should call Sean. He might be at Franci’s and waiting for me to bring Rosie home.”

“Then call him,” George said softly. “She’s safe, Maureen. And you haven’t been a bad grandmother by going on an outing with me.”

She stilled immediately. Then she looked at her cell phone and called Sean. “Hi, Sean, it’s me. I’ve been out to lunch and lost track of time. I can be there to pick up Rosie by three-thirty if you—All right, I’ll see you at Franci’s in a half hour or so. No, I’m on my way.” She ended the call and slipped the phone back into her purse. “He said he’d run over and pick her up and I should take my time. But I’d better get going.”

“Of course,” George said. They stood on an incline in the middle of the cemetery and he stepped closer. He lifted her chin to look into her green eyes. “You lost all track of time because we were enjoying ourselves. That means the date was a success.” He leaned toward her and gave her a peck on the lips. “Now relax and I’ll take you home.”

And out of nowhere, completely unplanned and unprepared, Maureen threw her arms around George’s neck and planted her lips on his. He stumbled backward a couple of steps before he came up against a large tombstone that balanced him. He was finally able to get his arms around her and hang on to her. He kissed her back, but as kisses go it wasn’t much. It was the gesture that was startling.

She let him go.

“Well,” he said. “You should warn me when you’re going to do that. We could have gone down the hill, then we’d have to explain a couple of broken hips. That’s more complicated than being a little late to day care.”

“I don’t know what came over me,” she said.

“It doesn’t matter. Just make sure it comes over you again before long. I like it.” He held out his hand. “Come on. I’ll walk you down. Slowly.”

As the end of November approached, Franci and Sean talked to Rosie about the fact that Daddy had to go back to his flying job after Thanksgiving. It would mean that he could only visit when he had a few days off. They explained that he hoped they could spend Christmas together, but he wasn’t sure he’d be able to. “But I will call you and talk to you on the phone whenever I can. Sometimes every day.”

To which Rosie replied, “’Kay.”

They avoided telling her about the larger problem—that Sean would be transferred somewhere, probably soon after the new year. Perhaps someplace where he wouldn’t be allowed to take a family.

They did get their marriage license and a very nice ring was being made for Franci, but their plans would have to wait until they knew more about the future.

Franci was past all the fear and anger she’d felt when Sean had first reappeared in her life—she no longer worried that her heart would be broken again, nor was she still angry about the way they’d parted four years ago. Those thoughts were now all forgotten and she wondered how she had managed to live without him. As well, she didn’t know how he’d accomplished it, but he’d turned into a wonderful father—affectionate and devoted and completely comfortable in his role.

“Didn’t we used to fight all the time?” she asked him.

“It seemed like a lot of arguing, but once we broke up all I could think about were the things we had going for us,” he said. “Here’s what I know, babe. I think now we got it down. We might have some hurdles with the air force assignments, but from here on we’re making it.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about Rosie,” she said to him.

“I’m sorry I was so impossible to tell,” he replied.

Every day Maureen found herself in very unfamiliar territory. Without saying a word to anyone besides Viv, she’d spent several lunch hours with George Davenport over the couple of weeks before Thanksgiving. Like herself, he was heading back to Seattle after the holiday weekend. “End of term,” he said. “I really need to be there. But what say we meet right back here for Christmas?”

“I’d like that,” she said.

“How attached are you to that condo in Phoenix?” he asked.

“It’s perfect for me,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t have to cut grass or shovel snow.”

“But do you like it?”

“Sure. Do you like where you’re living?”

“It’s been a good home for over twenty years, but I’m thinking ahead. Mary’s grown kids have moved away and they’re really my only family besides Noah. I don’t believe I’m going to stay in that house in Seattle much longer. Or at the university, either. I’m ready for the next step. A more portable lifestyle—more freedom and travel.”

She smiled and said, “Maybe you’ll visit Phoenix.”

“Maybe I will. You’ll let me have your guest room, won’t you?”

She grinned and shook her head. “The complex has some guest apartments we can reserve for out-of-town company.”

He lifted a brow and said, “You’re not afraid to be alone with me, Maureen.”

“Not at all, but I won’t have the gossip.”

“You would have made a fantastic nun,” he told her. And then he laughed.

But she let him kiss her. Small, affectionate kisses—that was enough. But something she was completely unprepared for was beginning to happen for her. Bringing George into her life was not simply about practicality or companionship at all, but more about the little tremors that vibrated inside her when he was near, when he touched her ever so briefly, when he brushed his lips against hers. She had no idea that a woman in her sixties could feel like a teenager.

She kept remembering what Vivian had said about mature love—that it was slower, sweeter, more tender and very fulfilling. Such thoughts made her shiver.

She had yet another long lunch with George planned for today. They were making the most of their time together before Aiden appeared for Thanksgiving week and Maureen concentrated on family again. When she heard the blast of a horn in front of Vivian’s house, she was astonished. She went to the window thinking that it couldn’t be George honking for her. He was, above all else, a gentleman. He was debonaire.

But there, sitting in front of the house, was Noah’s old RV, and George was standing outside the door. Her mouth slightly open, she wandered out of the house.

“George, what’s this?”

“What I really want to do is take you for another picnic, this time on the coast by the ocean, but it would be torture in this cold wind. So I volunteered to take Noah’s RV for its weekly housekeeping—empty the lavs, load the potable water, all the stuff that has to be done regularly. He was more than happy to put me on that job since I’ve been using the RV as a hotel room. But I’ll tell you the real reason I wanted to steal the RV—I’m going to take you to the ocean and we’re going to have a picnic. But we’ll sit inside, at the table next to the big window, and be nice and warm and comfy. And alone.”

She grinned and knew it was a girlish smile. “I don’t know if I ought to get into a vehicle that private with you.”

“Well, you can be sure the neighbors won’t talk! Now get your jacket and purse, lock up the house and let’s get going.”

“I’ll just be a minute,” she said. He was in the driver’s seat by the time she got back. She climbed up and inside and sat in the seat beside him. While he drove the big vehicle down the street, she turned in her seat and craned her neck to take in the interior. “That’s a cute little kitchen,” she said. “What did you make us for lunch?”

“Takeout,” he said. “I don’t want to waste my time preparing food. How does it feel? Riding up here?”

She looked out. “I like it. It’s wonderful being high. I’ve been frustrated by all the big cars on the road. Big SUVs, trucks, vans and such. I’ve always hated being behind them and blind to what’s going on up the road. This is nice.”

“Not only is there a bathroom, kitchen, washer and dryer, master bedroom and living room, but a satellite for TV and radio reception, and storage underneath. And this is an old RV. I’m not much of a mechanic, so I hope it runs without any problems.”

“Oh, George, what would we do if it broke down?” she worried.

“Call Noah,” he said. “He’d come with his toolbox. He’s been keeping this thing going for years. It’s kind of nifty, don’t you think?”

“I do,” she said. “Is it hard to maneuver?”

“Not a bit. I could let you try it, if you like.”

“No, thanks.” She laughed. She ran a hand along the console. “But it’s fun, George. I have to hand it to you—you’re always fun.”

“Why, thank you, Mrs. Riordan,” he said. “Thing is, I’ve decided what I’m going to do next. I have to go back to the university, of course. Next semester, I’m cutting back my schedule. I need more freedom. I’m going to transition out, sneak up on retirement. I’m going to get myself one of these!” he exclaimed, smacking the steering wheel. “Mary’s sons are married and have children—they’re great kids, superior stepsons. One lives in Texas, one in Florida. I’m going to put my house on the market and retire by the end of school, just in time to begin traveling. I’m going to see this country one state at a time, and I’m going to drop in on those boys. They both have amazing wives. One has three children, one has two—and even though I’m a stepfather, they call me Papa instead of Grandpa. I’m going to visit them occasionally while I’m traveling, then move on to other sights, then check back in. What do you think of that idea?”