“Right, Mom.” Jeff gently patted her shoulder, then crawled out of the fort. He waited for Robin, who emerged after him, and offered her a hand. Cole and Blackie followed.

Jeff took Robin’s arm, holding her elbow as he led her to the back door of their house, as if he suspected she couldn’t find her way without his guidance.

Once inside, Robin grabbed a tissue and loudly blew her nose. Her composure was shaky, but when she turned to Cole, she intended to be as reasonable as a judge. As polite as a preacher.

“Have you got any aspirin?” Cole asked Jeff.

Jeff nodded, and dashed up the stairs to the bathroom, returning in thirty seconds flat with the bottle. Cole filled a glass with water and delivered both to Robin. How he knew she had a fierce headache she could only guess.

“Why don’t you lie down for a few minutes? I’m sure you’ll feel better.”

“I feel just fine, thank you,” she snapped, more angry with herself for overreacting than with him for taking charge.

“Do you have family close by?” Again Cole directed the question to Jeff, which served to further infuriate Robin. Jeff was ten years old! She, on the other hand, was an adult. If this man had questions they should be directed to her, not her son.

“Not anymore,” Jeff answered in an anxious whisper. “Grandma and Grandpa moved to Arizona last year, and my uncle lives in LA.”

“I don’t need to lie down,” Robin said forcefully. “I’m perfectly fine.”

“Mom,” Jeff countered, his voice troubled, “you don’t look so good.”

“You were talking about frying pans and sleeping with dogs in the same breath,” Cole elaborated, his eyebrows raised.

“I think Mr. Camden’s right,” Jeff said. “You need rest—lots of rest.”

Her own son had turned traitor on her. Robin was shocked. Jeff took her hand and led her into the family room, which was off the kitchen. He patted the quilted pillow on the sofa, wordlessly suggesting she place her head there. When she resisted, he pulled the afghan from the chair and draped it around her, tucking the ends behind her shoulders.

Robin couldn’t believe she was allowing herself to be led around like a … like a puppy. As if reading her thoughts, Blackie wandered over to her side and lowered his bulk onto the carpet beside the sofa.

“That’s a neat fort you’ve got there,” Jeff told Cole once he’d finished tucking in the blanket. Robin watched him hurry back to the kitchen, grab a plate, then load it with macaroni and cheese and hand it to Cole, apparently wanting to share his favorite meal with their neighbor.

Cole set the plate on the counter. “Thanks anyway, Jeff, but I’ve got to get back to the house. In the future, if you’re thinking about running away—don’t.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right,” Jeff said with a mildly guilty look. “My mom turned into a basket case.”

Cole smiled—at least, it was as close to a smile as Robin had seen. “You’re both going to be fine. She intends to get you that dog, you know. Just hang on. It’ll be sooner than you think.”

Jeff walked to the sliding glass door with Cole. “Mr. Camden, can I ask you something important?”

“Sure.”

“Is anyone using the fort?”

“Not that I know of.”

Jeff’s expression was hopeful. “It didn’t look like anyone had been inside for a long time.”

“Six years,” Cole murmured absently.

“That long? How come?” Jeff asked. “It’s a great fort. If it’s all right with you I’d like to go over there sometimes. I promise not to walk in any flowerbeds or anything, and I won’t leave a mess. I’ll take real good care of everything.”

Cole hesitated for a moment. He looked at Jeff, and Robin held her breath. Then he shook his head. “Maybe sometime in the future, but not now.”

Jeff’s deep blue eyes brightened; apparently the refusal didn’t trouble him. “Okay. When I can use the fort, would it be all right if I took Blackie with me? He followed me today, you know. I didn’t have to do anything to get him to tag along.” Jeff paused and lowered his eyes. “Well, hardly anything.”

“I thought as much. As your mom said, you have a way with animals.”

“My dad did, too. If he hadn’t died he would’ve gotten me a pony and everything.”

There was such pride in Jeff’s voice that Robin bit her bottom lip to keep from crying all over again. Jeff and Lenny were so much alike. What she’d told her son earlier was true. More and more, Jeff was starting to take on his father’s looks and personality.

Cole gazed down at Jeff, and an emotion flashed in his eyes, so transient Robin couldn’t recognize it. He laid his hand on Jeff’s shoulder. “Since your mother explained there’s going to be a delay in getting you a dog, it’d be okay with me if you borrowed Blackie every now and then. You have to stay in your own yard, though. I don’t want him running in the neighborhood unless he’s on a leash.”

“Do you mean it? Thanks, Mr. Camden! I’ll do everything you ask.”

Robin had the feeling Jeff would’ve agreed to just about any terms as long as he could see Blackie. It wasn’t a dog of his own, but it was as close as he was going to get for the next few months.

Once Cole had left, Jeff joined her on the sofa, his hands folded on his lap. “I’m sorry, Mom,” he muttered, his chin buried in his chest. “I promise I’ll never run away again.”

“I should hope not,” she said. Wrapping her arms around him, she hugged him close, kissing his cheek.

“Gee whiz,” Jeff grumbled, rubbing his face. “I’d never have apologized if I’d known you were going to kiss me.”

A week passed. Jeff liked his new school and, as Robin had predicted, found his class contained an equal number of boys and girls. With his outgoing personality, he quickly collected new friends.

On Sunday afternoon, Robin was in the family room reading the paper when Jeff ambled in and sat down across from her. He took the baseball cap from his head and studied it for a moment.

“Something bothering you?” she asked, lowering the paper to get a better view of her son.

He shrugged. “Did you know Mr. Camden used to be married?”

“That’s what I heard,” Robin said absently. But other than Heather’s remarks the previous week, she hadn’t heard anything else. In fact, she’d spoken to her neighbor only when she’d gone to pick up Jeff every afternoon. The child-care arrangement with Heather was working beautifully, but there’d been little opportunity to chat.

As for Cole, Robin hadn’t seen him at all. Since he’d been so kind and helpful in the situation with Jeff, Robin had revised her opinion of him. He liked his privacy and that was fine by her; she had no intention of interrupting his serene existence. The memory of their first meeting still rankled, but she was willing to overlook that shaky beginning.

“Mr. Camden had a son who died.”

Robin’s heart constricted. It made sense: the pain she’d seen when Jeff had asked him about children, the word on the street that Cole didn’t like kids, the abandoned fort. “I … How did you find that out?”

“Jimmy Wallach. He lives two streets over and has an older brother who used to play with Bobby Camden. Jimmy told me about him.”

“I didn’t know,” Robin murmured, saddened by the information. She couldn’t imagine her life without Jeff—the mere thought of losing him was enough to tear her apart.

“Mrs. Wallach heard Jimmy talking about Bobby Camden, and she said Mr. Camden got divorced and it was real bad, and then a year later Bobby died. She said Mr. Camden’s never been the same since.”

Robin ached for Cole, and she regretted all the uncharitable thoughts she’d had that first morning.

“I feel sad,” Jeff whispered, frowning. His face was as intent as she’d ever seen it.

“I do, too,” Robin returned softly.

“Mrs. Wallach seemed real surprised when I told her Mr. Camden said I could play in Bobby’s fort someday. Ever since his son died, he hasn’t let any kids in the yard or anything. She said he hardly talks to anyone in the neighborhood anymore.”

Heather Lawrence had said basically the same thing, but hadn’t explained the reason for it. Probably because she didn’t know.

“Are you still going to barbecue hamburgers for dinner tonight?”

Robin nodded, surprised by the abrupt way Jeff had changed the subject. “If you want.” Next to macaroni and cheese, grilled burgers were Jeff’s all-time favorite food.

“Can I invite Mr. Camden over to eat with us?”

Robin hated to refuse her son, but she wasn’t sure a dinner invitation was a good idea. She didn’t know Cole very well, but she’d already learned he wasn’t one to socialize with the neighbors. In addition, Jeff might blurt out questions about Cole’s dead son that would be terribly painful for him.

“Mom,” Jeff pleaded, “I bet no one ever invites him to dinner and he’s all alone.”

“Sweetheart, I don’t know if that would be the right thing to do.”

“But we owe him, Mom,” Jeff implored. “He let me throw sticks for Blackie twice this week.”

“I don’t think Mr. Camden’s home,” Robin said, picking up the newspaper while she weighed the pros and cons of Jeff’s suggestion. Since last Sunday, Robin hadn’t spoken to Cole once, and she wasn’t eager to initiate a conversation. He might read something into it.

“I’ll go and see if he’s home.” Before she could react, Jeff was out the front door, letting the screen door slam in his wake.

He returned a couple of minutes later breathless and excited. “Mr. Camden’s home and he said he appreciates the invitation, but he has other plans for tonight.”

“That’s too bad,” Robin said, hoping she sounded sincere.

“I told him we were having strawberry shortcake for dessert and he said that’s his favorite.”

Robin didn’t want to admit it, but she was relieved Cole wouldn’t be showing up for dinner. The man made her feel nervous and uncertain. She didn’t know why that should be, only that it was a new and unfamiliar sensation.

“Thanks, Mom.”

Robin jerked her head up from the paper. “Thanks for what?” She hadn’t read a word in five minutes. Her thoughts had been on her neighbor.

Jeff rolled his eyes. “For letting me take a piece of strawberry shortcake over to Mr. Camden.”

“I said you could do that?”

“Just now.” He walked over to her and playfully tested her forehead with the back of his hand. “You don’t feel hot, but then, with brain fever you never know.”

Robin swatted playfully at her son’s backside.

Laughing, Jeff raced outdoors, where his bicycle was waiting. A half hour later, he was back in the house. “Mom! Mom!” he cried, racing into the kitchen. “Did you know Mr. Camden owns a black Porsche?”