At forty-seven, he was so damned glad to have hair, considering his older brother and Dad had gone bald at twenty-five, he'd probably never bring himself to cut it past nape length. It tended to get shaggy on him. Something his brother Patrick liked ragging him about.

Patrick, thank god, wasn't a comb-over guy like too many men their age. No, he'd shaved it slick, and somehow it didn't look bad at all, apparently not to his wife Jeannie or his six kids that came after the hair loss.

“Is that someone at Granny Lloyd's old place?” Rhone leaned up, peering as they had left town and turned out onto the blacktop.

Sitting back about two acres from the highway, fronted by an overgrown lawn, wildly mature bushes, shrubs, and trees, was the dappled image of Louise Lloyd's house. The elderly lady, had been there when Shane was born and everyone called her Granny, for her lined face, sweet disposition, and grandmotherly manner toward people.

“It looks like a moving trailer…” Shane's words trailed off as he strained to see. The graveled drive had long grown over where the oaks, willows, silver maples and mimosa—nearly wedged in the two-story green and white house.

“Look, yeah, there's a woman trying to carry a box.”

Shane pulled off the road, hardly registering the cars that passed. “I'll be damned,” Shane uttered softly.

“What?”

Shane glanced at his son's curious blue-eyed stare, then back to the females, two of them. One was obviously a teen, the other he hadn't seen in twenty years, but he just knew... “That's Nicole, the granddaughter. Granny raised her after her parents died in a car wreck.”

Looking out the window Rhone murmured amused, “She's trying to carry boxes in heels.”

A half smile tugged at Shane's lips. “Nikki was a lawyer in D.C., last I heard.” From a distance he could make out a neat skirt and blouse, in black or blue. It was hard to see details. About the only thing he could discern of the teen, was that long brown hair the breeze tugged at.

They both winced. Even with the traffic behind them, they could hear the crash when one of the boxes slipped and fell.

“We should probably go help,” Rhone looked at him. “You knew her, right?”

“Mmm.” Shane leaned back and glanced at him, backing up to the entrance of the drive, that boasted a rusted and half-leaning mailbox atop a post.

He caught his son staring at him curiously. “What?”

“Nothing—I just wondered.”

Shane grunted. He should kick his older brother's ass for filling Rhone's head full of stories about his wild youth. He'd been the school jock, popular, with no shortage of dates. There was nothing wild about it. In fact, Rhone's mother still laughed when she heard the tales. Divorced but good friends, they both worked in town, and since he and Beth had married during those supposed wild years, she knew popularity wasn't something he took advantage of.

He reflected, while the truck bounced and shook, proceeding up the rutted drive, on that friendship with Nicole Lloyd. He had spent more time with her on Granny's front porch, in that old-fashioned kitchen, than he had with his girlfriends.

“We were friends,” he admitted finally. He stopped the truck a few feet behind the trailer, before cutting the engine. Prior to getting out, he added, “She probably doesn't remember though, considering the kind of fast paced career she's had.”

They got, out slamming the doors closed in echoes of each other. Shane caught sight of Nikki with the back door open on the sedan.

Her knee was on the seat, her ass in the air as she apparently dug around for something. Finally she straightened holding a box of lawn bags and registered their presence in the midst of pushing a blowing strand of sable hair out of her face. It was twisted up in back, probably shoulder length. She wore glasses with small square black frames. Her arms hugged the orange box of garbage bags. She glanced from one male to the other, twice.

“Hello Nicole.” Shane grinned crookedly, trying to meet those brown eyes through the lenses. “I'm Shane…”

Her brows went up. “Oh—oh, yes, of course.” She laughed uncomfortably. “Shane Ireland. I'm sorry; my mind is suffering from fatigue. We drove straight down from D.C.”

She glanced behind her. Both men spotted the teen lingering on the steps, arms crossed, her hair nearly obscured her face.

“Mandy?”

Shane took in a good deal in those moments the girl walked hesitantly toward them. He'd already noted the strain and paleness to Nikki's face, the dark circles under her eyes. Nikki was a handsome woman but she looked worn to the bone. He had switched his gaze to the teen with that grin of welcome still on his mouth.

In eighty-degree weather, she had on a shirt with long sleeves, half covering her palms, with jeans and sneakers. She was husky built, with wide hips and a full bosom, and beautiful silky hair that was a shade lighter than her mother's.

“This is Shane Ireland and—”

“Rhone, my son,” Shane supplied, offering his hand to the girl, noting her light brown eyes so reticent that they skittered from his. She was somewhere between sixteen and eighteen, it was hard to tell because of her mature body.

“Nice to meet you.”

“Amanda,” Nicole offered. “My daughter.”

After Rhone shook her hand and welcomed them, they stood there in the summer evening quiet. It wasn't complete silence; the breeze stirred over them ruffling branches, bushes and grass. Birds chirped from the wild growing limbs, and bees hummed along the rambling rose vines beside the porch.

Shane finally commented, “Look's like you could use some help?”

“Oh, no, that's okay.” Nicole shook her head. “It's just boxes.”

Shane glanced at his son, who was staring at him. Evidently they were thinking the same thing: that both women seemed tense and nervous with body language that made them feel awkward.

Shane gazed down at the warped box with glass spilling out, and then at Nicole again. “It's no problem. We were just heading home to an evening of working on lawn mowers and chores.”

“Yeah,” Rhone cut in with an easy grin. “We can have this moved in no time.”

Nicole chewed her lip, then nodded imperceptibly. “Just let me get that mess.” She walked in front of them, squatted down in a way that showed the narrow hem of her skirt, and dropped the box of trash bags, pulling one out.

“We'll take care of it.” Shane touched her shoulder.

She dropped the bag when she stood, and almost staggered if not for his hold on her arm.

“Whoa.”

She pulled away with a strained laugh. “These heels…”

“Yeah.” He smiled a little fake himself, experiencing a kind of tension that didn't sit well. “Y'all just go in and leave the door wide, then tell us where to put everything.”

“You really don't have to.”

“It's no big deal.” He shrugged. Sensing her unease, he squatted and began to clean up the box and glass.

“Okay. Thank you, both of you,” she murmured.

When the females had walked off, Rhone squatted down to help Shane. For a while the clink of glass was the only sound, as they put it in the trash bag. Finally Rhone asked softly, “Was she always like that?”

“Like what?” Shane's tone was flat, but he knew exactly what Rhone was talking about.

“Like she's going to jump out of her skin.”

“No.” They stood and Shane held the bag while his son put the box in. There were still sparkles of glass in the drive. He'd see to it before they left, to keep her from busting a tire. “Nicole was one of those quiet, intelligent girls overlooked in a town like this. You know how it is, cheerleaders, prom queens, and fresh-faced girls like your mom.”

“I never heard anyone speak of her.”

Shane put the bag in the back of his pick up. They walked to the doors of the trailer. “Her Granny did. She was proud when Nikki got into Yale, and passed the bar. I recall her coming in the store, telling me about the marriage and the baby. But after awhile...” Shane shrugged, realizing that he'd thought nothing of it at the time, but that Granny Lloyd stopped updating everyone on Nicole's life a few years after her marriage.

“You call her Nikki.”

Shane chuckled. “She used to say she didn't fit that nickname. No one called her that but me.”

They looked inside the trailer and indeed saw nothing but boxes. A few obviously held a computer and office material, some marked as glass, still others; books, took up half the space. Those were going to be heavy as shit . There were the usual clothing hampers that were filled with hair dryers and personal items, but everything was neat, labeled, and categorized.

He and Rhone exchanged a smile. When Beth moved out they'd loaded up pickups and plastic crates. Beth owned the Green Grocer, and grew organic fruits and veggies, and was Mother Earth to the core. She would just as likely not use paper boxes, because it consumed trees.

“Best get started.” Shane shrugged. They each chose a box, heading inside the house with them.

Nicole Lloyd stood silent in the old fashioned kitchen. She was trying to pull herself together, and considering she'd existed in a mind fog for so long, she was having a hard time doing it.

Raking her mussed hair off her brow, she absently eyed her daughter's back. Amanda stood at the screen door, looking out at the overgrown rear yard.

It was so quiet in the kitchen with only the tick of the antique clock, on the shelf between dead houseplants, and the muted sounds from outside that flowed through the room.

Nicole nearly jumped when Mandy spoke.

“You go out there and tell them where to put things,” her daughter muttered.

“I'll just let them set it in the parlor.”

Mandy shrugged.

Nicole read the body language. “He was a nice guy when I lived here. An athlete. His dad owned the hardware and feed store in town. I seem to recall Granny saying that Shane's dad died several years ago.”

Mandy didn't turn around. “A jock.”

Knowing how her daughter was, how she'd suffered through teasing and cruel bullies at school, Nicole didn't take that as merely an observation. Shane was still well built. He had that kind of physique. It was obvious too, that while his son six feet tall, broad shouldered, Rhone had a strong jaw, brow, nose, and cheeks; the typical jock look.

Amanda hadn't faired any better in exclusive private schools, where she'd been measured against congressmen and doctors' daughters, the elite crowds. Who were as superficial as the succession of public schools students, sectioned into cliques. None of which she fit into.

Nicole said neutrally, “He was popular and played most of the school sports. He graduated a year before me, and worked in his dad's store. We were friends.”

“Really? I couldn't tell.” Mandy looked over her shoulder, her eyes not revealing whether she was interested or just making small talk.

“Yes. He was taking business management classes at the community college. I went into town with Granny, and while she was buying a plunger I noticed Shane studying and commented on it.”

Nicole smiled and felt so rusty doing it. “He wasn't what you'd call a brain, not stupid either, just an average student. He asked me some questions and I gave him the answers. Eventually, he started delivering things here, picking up Granny's mail on his way home, or her medications or groceries. He always seemed to have his books in his truck.”

“So you tutored him?”

“More or less. But he was amusing, easy going. Granny loved him. She used to cook for him because his mama worked. He did chores around here too.”

They both heard the thuds of the boxes in the next room. Mandy turned back to the door. “How old is he?”

“Forty-seven. He is four years older than I am. He'd failed the fourth grade, and apparently started school a year late, because of his birthday or something.” Nicole headed toward the parlor. “Put some of that water in the freezer, they'll be thirsty when they get done.”

She walked into the parlor, eyeing the Queen Anne settee and chairs, upholstered in a mellow rose-patterned fabric. There was a six-inch oak trim along the base and the top of the walls near the ceiling, the subdued print of the wallpaper, and Granny's photographs still hanging on the wall facing Nicole, where they'd always been.

When the men came back in Nicole said, “Just put everything here. I'll sort it by room later.”

Shane nodded.

“I'll pay you when you're done.” She attempted a smile of thanks, aimed at his son, musing how healthy and strong he looked. He had those same light aqua eyes and straight brows. His looks were more honey-smooth in youth. But, having thought that, there had always been something about Shane's shaggy mane and rugged face that was vibrant and strong.

“No, Ma'am.” Rhone was shaking his head. “We're just being neighbors. Maybe a Yankee might charge you, but my Dad and Mom would whip my backside for something like that.”

Since he was grinning, and so big, she smiled more easily. “Okay then. But I really appreciate it.”

Shane had gone on ahead and Rhone lingered a moment, looking at her in a way, Nicole reflected, that Shane did many years ago—a way that saw too much for her to be at ease.

“You going to live here awhile?”

“Yes.”

“Dad and I can clean up the yard, prune the trees. We'd have to squeeze it in. He's got more time than I do, between classes and working at the hardware store—”

“No. I wouldn't think of it.”

“No problem,” he insisted. “We got all kinds of machines that make yard work a lot easier than it used to be. When I was a kid, I made my pocket change here, working and doing chores for Granny.”

“Your dad used to do that.”

“Did he?” Rhone grinned, his eyes going over her face.

Nicole nodded and looked away. Then she glanced back. “I'll just go out and unload my car.”

“You should have running shoes on.”

She agreed. “They're packed up somewhere.”

They walked out together onto the porch. The paint was blistered and peeling, banisters faded several shades, but the protection of the trees keeping it adequately cool.

Going down the steps, Nicole felt Rhone step ahead of her. She was at her car door when Shane walked by carrying a box.

“We can get that, Nikki.”

“It's just odds and ends.” She glanced at him.

He shifted the box. “Your husband coming down later?”

“No. I'm divorced.” Nicole couldn't keep the tension out of her voice. She turned to open the door and close off the subject.

She heard him murmur something before he walked on. She distracted herself by gathering up things, half closing the door, and then going inside to dump it on the settee. She made two more trips while they made dozens. By the time they emptied the moving trailer, the whole thing seemed to have taken no more than a half-hour.

“Are there any drive-thru's around?” she asked when they were given a bottle of cold water. The men's' T-shirts were sweat-stained now and their faces were damp with it. “I can at least buy you dinner.”

“There's a pizza place close by. But you don't have to do that.”

She glanced at Shane. “I want to. Can I call it in or do they deliver?”

“They deliver,” Rhone said, nodding to Amanda who brought them two more frosted bottles.

“I don't have the phone hooked up…”

“You got a cell, Mom,” Amanda cut in softly.

“Oh, of course.”

“I know the number,” Rhone said. There followed a general discussion on what to order and how many. Nicole handed Rhone the phone and let him make the call while she nodded to Shane's request to use the bathroom so he could tidy up.

The house had no air conditioning. Nicole went in search of the fans her Granny used to put in the windows in summertime. With Rhone's help, she had a cross-breeze going, alleviating some of the mugginess.

Amanda had gone back to the kitchen and since the parlor was now taken up with boxes, Nicole suggested they join her.

Shane nodded, called out to Rhone, and followed her. The red Formica table and vinyl chairs were on the left. A big iron sink, the old style cabinets and pie safes lined the wall. An old-fashioned butcher-block table made up a counter where her granny had chopped veggies and rolled out biscuits and piecrust. There were several high-backed chairs around it, and Shane took one.

It reminded Nicole of the days they'd helped Granny peel potatoes and apples. It was so far away from the life she'd recently left, that even her memories seemed to be of another girl, another place and time.

She noticed Shane's eyes touch Amanda. Her daughter leaned against the door facing, staring out through the screen. Nicole had taken a seat on the opposite side, sipping water, absently running her thumb over the condensation dripping over the plastic.

“You been divorced long?” Shane drew her attention

“A year.”

“Six for me.”

“Really?” Nicole glanced at him.

“Yeah. You recall Beth McCree?”

“Pretty girl, butter-blonde hair?”

“Yes, that's her. She runs the Green Grocer in town, supplies all the fresh produce, does a lot of nutrition counseling at the hospital.”

Nicole may have been curious, but she didn't want to pry too much in case it meant answering questions about her own husband. “From what I can recall of her features, Rhone resembles you both.” When he nodded she asked, “Do you run the hardware store now?”

“Ireland Feed and Hardware.” He grinned. “Took over after Dad died.”

“And your mom?”

“Sally Mae's still alive and well.” He chuckled. “Retired from teaching but still goes to the school everyday and helps out. She still runs the vacation bible school for the Baptist church, and just about anything else they'll let her do.”

“Do you live with her?”

“No.” He snorted. “She'd take it that we thought she was getting too old to look after herself. Patrick and I take turns checking on her, but Sally Mae is a strong willed woman.”

Nicole remembered her well. Sally Mae Ireland had been Nicole's science teacher in middle school. The woman was big-boned, full bosomed, with vigor that had intimidated most of the class. She'd not liked having teachers' pets or being partial, yet Nicole's quiet demeanor had gone far in Sally Mae's eyes.

Occasionally, she'd favored Nicole with a wink and a smile, and patted her shoulder as they passed in the hall.

“How is Patrick?” She asked.

“Fine. Married with six kids. He and Jeannie live about forty miles from here. He runs an accounting business out of the house. Jeannie has an online company of some kind. Their house is chaos even though the kids are nearly all grown. I don't know how he gets any work done.”

Rhone had come in. Nicole looked up and saw him glance at Mandy. She sighed inwardly. The typical thing would be for the two youngest to converse and get to know each other. But her daughter was so used to being a social outcast, that Mandy would never think a guy like Rhone, or any guy actually, would have anything to say to her that wasn't rude.

He finally looked at Nicole.

“Have a seat.” She invited. Then reached into her purse and got her wallet, so she'd be ready when the delivery got there.

“Dad said you're a lawyer?”

She felt her whole body go tight. “Not anymore.”

“Shame… we could use a few here.”

Nicole cleared her throat. “What are you taking classes for?”

Rhone supplied, “Plumbing and HVAC. I figured since Dad runs the store, I'd start a contracting business.”

Nicole's smile was strained. She avoided Shane's eyes; aware her change of subject hadn't been subtle. “I'll be the first one to hire you to put central air in here.”

“So, you'll be here awhile?”

“Yes.”

There was a tense silence before the blunt sound of a car door slamming alerted them the delivery had arrived. Nicole arose, but Rhone offered to pay the boy.

“Let him keep the change.”

He nodded and left. Nicole sat back down.

Shane said quietly, “Looks like you've had a rough year, Nikki.”

“Stressful.” She wished Rhone would hurry, before Shane started asking what she saw in his eyes. She added for good measure, “I'm tired from the trip, my brain seems fogged.”

“I'll get plates.” Amanda turned and walked toward the cabinet. Nicole was watching her as Rhone opened the boxes. Just as Amanda turned back, the four plates in her hands, Rhone reached out to help her.

“Here, let me—” he started to say.

Nicole's heart constricted as Mandy's hand trembled and one the plates crashed to the floor. She rose to help her, painfully aware of the red stain on Amanda's cheeks.

“It's okay.” She caught Amanda's eye and smiled. “We're both worn out. No big deal.” She found the broom and dustpan. “Get some food, you're probably hungry too. Low blood sugar.”

She swept up the glass, cognizant that the men weren't going to get their own pizza until Amanda did—also aware, that Amanda would no more stand between the men and get it, than she would sit down with them.

Nicole finished her task and put pizza on a plate for Amanda. She watching her daughter go to the table and pull out a chair, her back to them. Self-conscious about her weight, Amanda never ate in front of people.

Nicole got her own and instructed the men to help themselves. She sat down, eating, trying not to notice the fact that Shane was watching her. At one point, she took a sip of water and their eyes met. She slowly lowered them again, and wiped her mouth with a napkin. It seemed like a painfully drawn out meal. Too much tension and obvious awkwardness.

Shane didn't say anything until the men were leaving later. She walked them out to the porch. Rhone strode ahead to the truck. Shane was turned toward her, his hand casually tucked in his Levi pocket while the other absently dangled his keys.

“You need anything else?”

“No.”

“You call the Phone Company yet?”

“Yes. Before I moved here.”

“You want me to return the rental trailer for you?”

“No. But Thanks.”

“How old is Mandy?”

She met his gaze. “She'll be eighteen in a few weeks.”

“She's shy.”

“Yes.”

He nodded. “We'll come by and get the yard in shape.”

“It's no hurry.”

He searched her face. “It's good to see you, Nikki.”

“You too.”

He glanced toward the yard, then back. “Is there anything I can do—” He stopped and shrugged giving her a helpless look. “I don't want to come off as rude. But you don't look so good. Have you been sick?”

“No.”

He nodded again, shifting his feet slightly then saying gruffly, “I know it's been twenty years or more. You've lived the city life and been a lawyer and all. But here, were pretty much the same as always, open and welcoming… we're friendly.”

“I know that.”

“We were pals once.”

“Yes.”

“I don't want to be pushy, Nikki. I'm still you're friend if you need anything or—”

“Thanks.” Nikki finally captured his aqua gaze. “Mandy and I just need some time to rest, to adjust and to—” she sighed and shook her head. “I'm sorry.” She turned and walked into the house.

On the way home, Rhone said, “There's something really strange there, dad.”

“Nikki never was one for chatter. She's okay one-on-one, and she's always read a lot and been kind of solitary soul.”

“I'm not talking about that.”

Shane glanced at him, then back to the road. “I know,” he admitted quietly. “But as well as I think I knew her then, it's not the same as talking to a mature woman in a chic suit, with an accent that shows how far apart our lives have grown. I always liked Nicole. She had this quiet strength about her that Granny said came from her parents' deaths, and having to handle that.”

“She looks fragile to me.”

“Yes. Tired and brittle.”

“That girl—Amanda. I wasn't trying to be rude, but I got the vibe that she was… scared or something.”

“Shy. Nikki wasn't that bad. She was more quiet than shy.”

“I'd introduce Gina to her, but I don't think she'd be comfortable with her either.”

Picturing the black haired, green-eyed nurse, Shane didn't think so either. Gina was the typical self-confident young woman, homegrown and vibrant.

He offered, “It's different in the city, faster, people don't get to know you. I guess when she has time to adjust and gets out more she'll get more at ease.”

“About Nicole…”

Shane gave his signal to turn off to their driveway. “Same thing, Nikki grew up here. Eventually the place, the people, will make her relax.”

Later, long after his son had gone to bed, and he'd showered, Shane sat out on the back-screened porch listening to the croak of frogs and noisy katydids. He propped his bare feet on the old wire spool and sipped strong coffee. In his mind's eye, he pictured Nicole and felt disquiet in him that made him suspect things he hoped weren't true.