For the Love of Summer

Chapter 17

By the time Erica arrived home she’d nearly convinced herself that she’d forgotten Killion’s ridiculousness. She ignored the strange car in the third bay of the garage and the stacks of furniture and boxes in the fourth as she walked toward the door leading to the house. It was nearly nine thirty and she’d been hoping to find a dimly lit mudroom and a quiet downstairs. Instead lights were on everywhere and the sound of a high-pitched toddler shriek echoed off the walls.

“Jackson, no. It’s late. You need to be in bed.”

Allison’s voice sounded desperate and exhausted. Erica would guess that there had been too many changes for the little boy to process and he was too wound up to know he was tired.

“Go through the kitchen from that side and I’ll head him off this way,” Summer said, just as Erica walked in from the mudroom.

Seconds later a pajama-wearing child burst into the kitchen, spotted her and screamed happily. He barreled toward her, both arms outstretched. She dropped her bag and caught him as he launched himself.

“Did someone give you sugar?” she asked as he wrapped his skinny arms around her neck and buried his face in her shoulder. “Or caffeine? How are you, little man?”

He drew back and smiled at her, then planted a kiss on her cheek. Immediately after, his brows drew together and he pointed at her.

She smiled. “You want to know my name, don’t you? I’m Erica. Erica,” she repeated more slowly.

“Rika!”

“Close enough.”

Summer ran into the kitchen from the near entrance, while Allison appeared at the far end. She had stains on her too-small T-shirt and dark circles under her eyes. No doubt it had been a hell of a day. She’d been forced out of her home, her husband was in jail and the entirety of her possessions were in some strange woman’s garage.

“I’ve got this,” Erica told her, enjoying the happy feel of a toddler in her arms.

Allison blinked at her. “I’m sorry. I’m really tired, so I don’t understand.”

“I’ve got this. I’ll get him settled. You get ready for bed, so when he’s asleep, all you have to do is close your eyes.”

“You can’t do that.”

“I’m actually very good with small children.”

Allison looked away. “I didn’t mean that.” She looked back at Erica. “We’re your guests here and that would be an imposition.”

“You’re not my guest,” Erica said bluntly, careful to keep her voice calm and soothing. She could already feel Jackson relaxing as she held him. “You live here now and you’re going to be living here for the next few months. This is your home.”

She paused. “We should probably meet and come up with ground rules we’re both comfortable with. Discuss expectations and that sort of thing. Let’s plan to do that tomorrow.”

Allison nodded wearily. “Sure.”

Erica turned to her daughter. “Where are his books? Are they unpacked?”

“They’re in the bookcase in my room.” Summer grinned. “Next to my precalc textbook.”

Erica carried Jackson upstairs. Allison and Summer followed. When they reached the landing, Erica pointed to Allison’s bedroom.

“I was serious. I’ll get him settled for the night. You go do your thing.”

“I can—”

Erica cut Allison off with a stern look. Allison flinched, nodded, then retreated to her bedroom. Erica carried Jackson into the room he would share with Summer for the next few nights. His crib was in place and ready for him. She ignored that and instead sat on her daughter’s bed.

Once she’d scooted them both up toward the headboard, she used pillows to prop herself up, then got Jackson comfortable reclining on her. Summer sat at the foot of the bed and handed her a book.

Erica opened it one-handed and showed him the picture. “That is a very handsome aardvark.”

“Happy,” Jackson said, pointing at the drawing. But his voice was low and the gesture half-hearted.

“That’s what it says right here. ‘Clybourne was a very happy aardvark. He was happy in his house. He was happy with his job. He was happy when he put on his favorite top hat and went to brunch with his friends.’”

She kissed the top of Jackson’s head. “I think it would be very fun to have brunch with an aardvark, although I’m a little concerned about the lack of table manners. We’d probably want to have it in the backyard, just in case.”

Jackson didn’t respond. Instead his breathing slowed and he slumped down a little.

Summer started to get up, but Erica shook her head. “Let’s give it about five minutes,” she said, making sure she spoke in her storybook voice. “I want him completely out before we move him or we’ll have to start over.”

She continued to read, turning pages until she was sure the toddler was deeply asleep, then she nodded at Summer, who carefully got up and took the child from her. When he was in his crib, they quietly slipped out of the room.

Erica looked at her daughter. “How are you going to manage this? Having him in your room. You’re a little bit trapped.”

“He’ll get into his own room in a few days.” Her daughter smiled. “You’re forgetting, Mom. Every time I spent the night at Dad’s place, I’ve shared a room with Jackson. I know how to do this.”

Right, because she hadn’t had her own room. Something that didn’t seem to bother her at all.

“If you’re sure,” Erica said, hugging her daughter. “I’m going to check downstairs and make sure everything is locked up. You’ll let Allison know Jackson’s asleep?”

“I will, then I’ll watch something in the media room while I text with my friends.”

“Don’t stay up too late.”

“I won’t.”

Erica checked all the doors downstairs, turning out lights as she went, finishing in the kitchen, where she made a mug of herbal tea. Once back upstairs in her room, she changed into yoga pants and a T-shirt and did a quick stretching routine that always relaxed her, then sat on the small sofa in the corner and sipped her tea while doing a little online window shopping.

But her heart wasn’t in it. She was too aware of Allison and Jackson in the house—something that would get better with time, she told herself. Eventually she would get used to having them here.

She finished her tea, then went into the bathroom to wash off her makeup and get ready for bed. She was about to turn out the lights when she heard a light knock on the closed door.

“Come in,” she called.

Summer stepped into the room, her tablet in one hand. “I didn’t know if you were still up.”

“I am.” Erica patted the king-size bed she’d replaced after Peter had moved out. “What’s up?”

“Some logistical stuff.” The teen sat cross-legged on the bed, facing her. “Allison’s going to need another crib for Bethany. I’ve been doing some reading online about him transitioning to a big-boy bed. He’s close to the right age, but they all say not to do it if there have been a lot of changes. So Bethany can’t have his crib.”

Erica wasn’t sure why this was an issue. “Then Allison will get another crib.”

Her daughter looked at her. “We’re going to have to buy it.”

“Yes, I know.”

Along with everything else the woman needed. Hopefully Peter would get off his ass and find a decent lawyer who could get some of the money released, but until that happened, Allison was her responsibility. They’d discussed her continuing to work, but with the cost of childcare and how far along she was in her pregnancy, Erica hadn’t seen the point and Allison had agreed.

Summer set down her tablet. “I want to go see Dad.”

Erica stared at her daughter in surprise. “Why?”

“He’s my father. I want to know he’s okay.”

“Sorry. I get that. It’s just you haven’t mentioned it before.”

Summer shrugged. “I was processing. Now I want to visit him.”

Erica thought about what she’d seen on her brief visit. She’d been there on a nonvisiting day and had received special treatment. She couldn’t imagine how much worse it was with a few hundred other people in that huge room, with planes flying overhead and guards everywhere.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. Whatever you’re thinking, it’s not like that. It’s not like the movies. Jail isn’t a happy place.”

“I need to do this, Mom.”

“Once you have those memories, they’ll be with you forever. You won’t be able to unsee them. It’s better for you to think about your dad in the regular world. Those are the images he’ll want you to have.”

Not that she cared about Peter’s feelings, but she was worried about her daughter.

“You’re protecting me.”

Erica nodded. “It’s one of the more important rules in that set of instructions you came with.”

Summer gave her a faint smile that quickly faded. “I’m not a kid.”

“Sometimes you’re very childish.”

“Mo-om! Be serious.”

“I am. That’s why I don’t want you to go.”

“I know Dad did bad things. I know he’s probably going to make a plea deal and go to prison for a long time.”

Erica tried not to show her surprise at her daughter’s statement. “You’ve been doing online reading about more than transitioning out of a crib.”

“Yeah, well, it’s the internet. You can find out anything.”

“I hadn’t even gone that far,” she admitted. “I was still caught up in your dad getting a better lawyer.” A plea deal? Peter had mentioned the feds were trying to get him to cooperate. That implied there would be something in it for him. But to plead guilty and go to prison?

“I want to see him.”

Erica knew she wouldn’t change her mind. “Okay. I’ll take you.”

Summer shook her head. “You don’t have to. I talked to Grandma earlier and she said she would do it.”

Erica wasn’t sure Peter would approve his ex-mother-in-law as a visitor, but under the circumstances she would guess Mara was a better alternative than seeing his ex-wife again.

Summer picked at the blanket, then looked up. “You’ve done a lot.” She paused. “No, I asked for a lot and you said yes. You didn’t have to, but you did.”

She glanced back at the bed. “I don’t think many of my friends’ moms would have been so open to all of this.”

Erica suspected that was true. Not that she deserved a lot of credit—if there was even one other option, she would happily toss out Allison to pursue it.

But there wasn’t, so here they all were.

“Allison and Jackson are your family,” she said lightly. “And you’re mine. This is how it’s supposed to work.”

With a little luck, Killion would be right and Summer would remember this for the rest of her life. That almost made it worth it.

Her daughter scrambled up the bed and hugged Erica. “Thank you, Mom. You’re really good to me and I know I can be difficult.”

“And childish,” Erica said lightly, holding her tight.

Summer laughed as she drew back. “I can be mature.”

“Yes, you can, but you often don’t choose to be. Now go to bed. It’s late.”

Summer stood and started for the door. When she got there, she paused and looked back.

“Do you think Allison is scared?”

Erica considered various answers, then decided that the truth was usually best.

“I’m sure she is. I would be.”

“Me, too. I’m glad we’re here for her. Night, Mom.”

“Good night.”

Allison fell asleep the second her head touched the pillow. Unfortunately two hours later she woke unexpectedly, her heart pounding as anxiety poured through her. She got up and walked around her spacious room, trying to calm her body. The reaction woke Bethany, who seemed intent on kicking her way out.

As Allison paced, telling herself she was fine, that yes, she could breathe and eventually this would pass, she also had to deal with the sharp ache in her chest by herself. There was no Peter to hold her. Before he’d been arrested, when she had a panic attack he would walk with her, his hand in hers, as he offered support and reassurance. Later, when the angst faded, they would return to bed, where he stayed close, his arm around her, until she fell back to sleep.

But tonight there was no Peter to offer comfort. She was alone, responsible for her children, in a strange place, at the mercy of her incarcerated husband’s first wife. The reality of her situation was nearly enough to bring back the panic, but she fought it and walked until her heart rate slowed.

Once she felt a little better, she checked on Jackson and Summer. Both were sleeping soundly. Allison returned to the hallway, not sure what to do. She’d had the movers put the TV from the living room into her bedroom, so she could watch that. Only she still felt as if she needed to keep moving.

She made her way downstairs and walked through the large, quiet house. The rooms were unfamiliar, the shadows menacing. Time, she told herself. She would get familiar with the place in time.

She paused by the French doors in the kitchen, wondering if a few minutes outside would make her feel better. Mara had said the house didn’t have an alarm, so she didn’t have to worry about that. But it was late and she wasn’t sure about wandering around an unfamiliar backyard.

“I need to get some sleep,” she murmured and turned to head to the stairs. Just then the kitchen overhead lights went on.

She turned and saw Erica standing by the far entrance to the kitchen. The two women stared at each other. Allison took in her host’s loungewear set with loose but well-fitting cropped pants and a sleeveless tank, both done in a charming floral print. Erica also had on fluffy slippers that should have looked silly on a woman her age, but didn’t.

In contrast Allison wore a voluminous size 3X nightgown she’d bought at a discount store. The garment was multiple times too big for her, but she appreciated how she could toss and turn without it getting tangled around her. The nightgown was like sleeping under a tent. She’d pulled on a ratty old shawl she’d found while she’d been going through the clothes, deciding what to bring in the house and what to put in storage. Her own robe was just her regular size and in no way equipped to handle her massive belly, and she hadn’t been comfortable not having anything to pass as a bathrobe. Instead of slippers, she had worn flip-flops. She looked and felt like some tragic case, sitting on the corner of an intersection, trying not to make eye contact with passersby.

“I was hoping you could sleep,” Erica said into the silence. “I know you’re exhausted.”

“I had a good couple of hours and then I was just awake.”

“I’m sure it’s all the stress of what’s happened, plus being here. Give it a little time, you’ll settle in.”

“Why are you up so late?”

Erica’s smile was faint. “There’s been a little stress for me, too. Plus Summer’s decided she wants to go see her father.”

“In jail? That’s not a good idea. I know she misses him, but it’s not a great environment.” Allison thought about how upsetting her visits to Peter had been. “She won’t like it.”

“That’s what I told her, but she’s determined. Apparently my mother has agreed to take her.”

“Mara?” Allison managed a smile. “She seems very nice.”

“She’s a wonderful woman. Occasionally she gets on my nerves, but that’s what mothers do.” Erica glanced toward the stove, then back at Allison. “Would you like some hot chocolate? I know it’s a cliché, but under the circumstances, it might be exactly what we both need.”

Allison hesitated, not sure she wanted to spend any more time with Peter’s ex-wife. But hot chocolate did sound good and despite the fact that Erica was the last person on earth she could be friends with, right now she needed a little company to keep the worry at bay.

“That sounds nice. Thank you.”

Erica motioned to the island. Allison lumbered over and slid onto one of the stools there. Erica pulled a small pan out of a wide, deep drawer under the cooktop and set it on the counter. She collected milk and what looked like a thick bar of chocolate.

She measured out milk and poured it into the pan. After setting it on the cooktop, she checked the heat, then began breaking pieces of solid chocolate into a small bowl.

“You don’t use a mix?” Allison blurted, thinking of the can of Hershey’s she’d put on “her” shelves in the pantry. “Jackson loves it.”

“This is Spanish chocolate. Peter and I discovered it years ago when we spent time in Madrid and Barcelona. It has a lovely rich flavor and is less sweet. I order the chocolate and my favorite olive oil from a place that imports delicacies from Spain.” She smiled. “They also have a frozen churro that is surprisingly delicious. You bake them for a few minutes in the oven, roll them in cinnamon and sugar and voilà! Better than a doughnut any day. We keep them in the freezer. Help yourself. Jackson will love them.”

Allison knew she was operating at about thirty percent of her normal brain energy, but she couldn’t grasp the concept. Erica ordered special chocolate and olive oil from Spain? Couldn’t she just buy what was at the grocery store?

Obviously not, she told herself. The local stuff probably wasn’t good enough for her.

The bitchy mental comment was immediately followed by guilt. Erica had been nothing but kind—inviting her into her home, taking care of Jackson the way she had. So far there hadn’t been any evidence of the mean-spirited, evil ex Peter had always talked about.

Silence weighed on the kitchen. Allison found herself regretting accepting the offer of hot chocolate. She would rather just go back to bed, even if that meant another panic attack. She searched for a neutral topic for the next fifteen minutes.

“Your house is beautiful,” she said. “I’ve only seen parts of it, but it’s really lovely.”

“Thank you. When you’re feeling up to it, you should explore. There’s a finished basement downstairs with a huge living area, a small kitchen and a couple of bedrooms. I think the previous owners used it as a rental. There’s a separate entrance around back.”

She dropped pieces of chocolate into the warming milk and stirred. “Summer talks about that being her ‘digs’ when she goes off to college. Somewhere to come back to that allows her total independence. Personally, I don’t see her doing it. She likes to be a part of things too much.”

Allison stared at the other woman. “Why didn’t you put me down there? I’d be out of your way and Summer could have kept her bedroom.”

Erica glanced at her. “You’re pregnant, with a toddler. Living down there would be the same as living in an apartment. You need support, Allison. People around to pick up the slack. Once Bethany’s born, you’ll need our help. Maybe it’s something to consider six months from now. I don’t know. We’ll have to talk.”

Allison felt the room spin a little. Six months from now? Six months? She wasn’t going to be here that long! She couldn’t be. She had a life and Peter, plus her kids. She needed to be making plans and come up with a schedule or something.

Only just thinking about that exhausted her already burned-out brain. Tomorrow, she promised herself. Or next week. She would pull herself together and start to strategize.

“My point is,” Erica continued, “you should be comfortable in the house. Get to know it. And the outside is very nice. There’s lots of room for Jackson to run around.” She glanced at the warming milk, then back at Allison. “If we have a hot summer, we can get one of those little blow-up kiddie pools. There’s a nice shade area by the deck where he’d be out of direct sun. At that age, they burn so easily.”

“When did you and Peter buy the house?” Allison asked. “Summer’s mentioned she’s lived here all her life, so it had to be shortly after you got married.”

Erica poured the chocolate milk into mugs. “I bought the house before Peter and I met.”

Allison felt her eyes widen. “You bought a house on your own? While you were single?”

Erica walked over with the drinks and set them on the island, then took a seat and smiled. “Yes. I bought this house by myself, as a single woman. You look shocked.”

“I am.” Allison winced. “I don’t mean that in a bad way. It’s just I don’t know any woman who was—what, twenty-five?—buying a house on her own.” Plus Peter had implied he and Erica had bought the place together. He’d made a point of telling her how Erica had kept him from taking his half. But if she’d bought it on her own, that wasn’t true.

Erica looked around. “It was a huge financial stretch for me and my mortgage broker kept trying to get me to buy something smaller.” She laughed. “A starter home. I told him I didn’t want to move again. I wanted a house I could grow into.”

She sipped her drink. “It was in rough shape, let me tell you. The structure was sound and the plumbing and electrical worked, but otherwise, it was a mess. Run-down and dirty. No one had painted for twenty years and the carpets were worn to the backing. The kitchen and bathroom were all original. It was going to be a project.”

“You sound as if you like that.”

Erica smiled at her. “I enjoy a challenge. I took it slowly. Room by room. My mom was dating a contractor, and he and I came up with a plan. I saved until I had enough for the next project, then he did the work. It took about four years to get it to where you see it today.”

She wrinkled her nose. “Four years and a salon. I stopped expanding while I was working on the house. I didn’t have the cash flow. But once it was done, I returned to my business plan. It worked out.”

She nodded at Allison’s mug. “You haven’t tried your drink.”

Allison automatically took a sip. The hot chocolate was smooth and creamy—full of flavor but with a more sophisticated flair. Less sweet, somehow, but satisfying. It was—in a word—perfection.

“It’s wonderful,” she said. “Good enough that I don’t care if it gives me heartburn.”

“You think it will?”

“This far along, everything gives me heartburn.” She returned to what Erica had told her about the house. “I don’t understand how you bought this place on your own. No offense, but aren’t you a hairstylist? I don’t mean to be rude,” she added hastily. “Peter implied you came from money but I didn’t think it was...”

She pressed her lips together. “I’m sorry. I’m asking very inappropriate questions.”

Erica drew her brows together. “I didn’t come from money. My mother is also a hairstylist. She still has clients. I keep my hand in but I’ve moved to the business side of things. I can’t believe Peter told you I came from money. That’s so strange.”

Allison was just as confused. The business side of things? How could one salon have that much paperwork or whatever? Shouldn’t Erica be doing hair? Wait. What was it Erica had said about the house? It had taken four years and a salon.

“I know you own a business,” she said. “It’s a beauty salon so you do hair.”

“Yes. I went to beauty school the second I graduated from high school and from there to building up a client base at my mom’s place. I worked hard and bought her out when I was twenty-three. I grew that, opened a second salon and so on.” She paused. “Have you heard of Twisted?”

Allison blinked several times. “You mean the upscale salons and spas? Of course I’ve heard of Twisted. They’re like—”

Horror washed over her, along with an icy embarrassment bath. “That’s you? You own Twisted? By yourself?”

Erica smiled. “I have many employees, but yes, I’m the sole owner of the corporation.”

Allison wanted to shrink into the flooring. This couldn’t be happening. Erica owned Twisted? How could she not know that? Why hadn’t someone told her? Only they hadn’t. Peter always dismissed what Erica did as “just hair.” Summer talked about how her mom cared about things like appearance and style and had talked about her “business,” but given what Peter had said, Allison had assumed she worked somewhere.

But that wasn’t true. Apparently Erica had started from very little and built an empire. She’d bought this house, had grown her business. She owned Twisted!

“I’m sorry,” Allison murmured. “I had no idea.”

Erica smiled. “Yes, I can see that from your face.” Her humor faded. “I have no idea why Peter wanted you to believe I was just a quote-hairdresser-unquote. First of all, it can be an excellent profession. A good stylist with a happy clientele can earn over a hundred thousand a year, no problem.”

Something flashed in her eyes. An emotion, maybe. Regret?

“Peter and I have different business philosophies,” Erica continued. “I’m ambitious and while he likes business, he doesn’t share my passion for conquering the next challenge.”

“He did well with his accounting business. His clients and employees all like him.”

Allison forced herself to stop talking, not sure why she felt the need to defend her husband, who was currently sitting in jail.

“I’m sure they do,” Erica murmured. “You’ve been working in a grocery store. Summer mentioned it.”

Allison flushed. “Part-time. I used to have a great job at a day care co-op, but they fired me after Peter was arrested.”

“What? They can’t fire you for something your husband did.”

Allison explained how Liz had been supportive at first, but then had told Allison they couldn’t take the risk. “She was worried the other parents would pull their children out of the day care and go somewhere else.”

“That’s ridiculous. You had nothing to do with Peter’s business. You didn’t work there. It’s not even community property—he owned the business before you met. She can’t do that. We should talk to a lawyer and get your job back.”

Allison found Erica’s energy gratifying. “You’re very kind, but I’m not interested in going back. At least not until after Bethany is born. Maybe then I’ll take on Liz. Earning credits by working there allowed me to have the second job and not have to pay for day care. With two kids, I couldn’t afford it any other way.”

Erica sighed. “The childcare situation or lack of affordable childcare is ridiculous. I was lucky. When Summer was little my mom helped, and I took her to work with me sometimes. Sometimes I hired a local teen to babysit. But not everyone has that option.”

Allison knew she didn’t and thinking about that was depressing.

“I’m sorry I didn’t know about Twisted,” she said.

Erica smiled. “It’s all right. I can see why Peter didn’t tell you and Summer wouldn’t mention it because she would assume you knew. How did you and Peter meet?”

Despite her exhaustion and the stressors in her life, Allison smiled.

“He rescued me,” she said, then laughed. “I was working at the grocery store. Peter was a regular. We would chat a little, but I didn’t think anything about it. One night I got off work at nine, as per usual, and my car wouldn’t start.”

It had been cold and raining and her car not starting had seemed like the end of the world. She’d been lonely and missing Levi and totally lost. Someone had knocked on her window.

“Peter asked if he could help.”

“I never knew Peter was good with cars.”

Allison grinned. “He’s not, but he called a tow truck, then he waited with me. He insisted on following the tow truck driver to the dealership, where we dropped it off, then he took me home.”

She held up a hand. “He was a perfect gentleman. Nothing happened. He didn’t even ask for my number.”

Erica’s gaze was unreadable. “But he was at the grocery store the next day.”

“He was. He asked me out and I said yes.”

What she didn’t say was that while they’d been waiting for the tow truck, he’d made her laugh. Just a little, but it had been the first time she had laughed since losing Levi. Peter had offered her hope. He’d been a few years older and not the most exciting man in the world, but he’d been steady and he’d fallen hard. His loving her had allowed her to finish healing, to open her heart again. Without realizing what had happened, she’d fallen for him, too.

“And that was that. We started dating, then we fell in love. He proposed and you know the rest.”

“That’s a lovely story. I’m glad he was there to help you when you needed it.”

“Me, too.” Unfortunately that was no longer true.

She pushed away her mug. “I can’t believe he’s been arrested and is in jail. How could that happen? He won’t tell me anything and I’m so scared.” She looked at Erica. “If he really loved me, he wouldn’t have done this. He would have kept us safe. I don’t know anything anymore.”

Erica’s expression turned kind. “The man loves you. Trust me on that. He’s an idiot who made some really bad decisions, but he loves you.”

“You can’t know that.”

Erica looked away. “Yes, I can. He told me when I went to see him.” She looked back at Allison. “He asked me to help, to take care of you. If you knew what he really thought of me, you’d realize what it cost him to make that request.”

Allison didn’t understand but wasn’t sure what to ask. “You’re helping me because of Peter?” Her stomach knotted. What did that mean? Was Erica still in love with her ex-husband?

But the other woman’s look of shock and revulsion quickly assured her.

“No,” Erica said flatly. “God, no. I’m doing this because of Summer. She’s my family and you’re hers. That means we are, in some inexplicable way, connected.”

“I appreciate all that you’ve done for me,” she began.

Erica held up a hand.

“No, just no. You’ve thanked me enough. We need to be done with that. The situation is weird enough without you feeling you have to genuflect every time you turn around.”

“I wasn’t planning on genuflecting,” Allison said. “Maybe a little bow now and then but not an actual genuflection.”

She spoke without thinking, then immediately wondered if she’d been too flip. Only Erica’s lips began to twitch and Allison found herself starting to giggle. Soon they were both laughing hard enough to bring tears to their eyes.

“I feel better,” Erica said. “I hope you do, too.”

Allison nodded, suddenly sleepy. She yawned. “I think I’ll go up to bed.”

She reached for her mug, but Erica got there first. “I’ll take care of these. You go get some sleep.”

“Thanks.”

Allison made her way to the stairs. As she climbed she thought about what had just happened. Erica was nothing like Peter had described. Even more surprising, Allison found her very kind and likeable. An unexpected revelation. But reconciling what she’d been told and what she’d observed for herself would have to happen at another time.