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of humor the way it had been. A year or so later to show an interest in all the things he used to do, even those he'd done without Mom.

Now he led an active life, kept busy and seemed to be in harmony with the world, his life, his surroundings and family.

But there was definitely a change in him.

Curious, she spoke aloud, "You sure seem anxious to go back to the new store. Any particular reason?"

"No. None. Why?"

"Just wondering." She leaned her head back on the chair's cushion, an encouraging smile on her mouth, hoping he would spill his guts and just tell her he had a "new" friend. "Dad, do you think you'll ever be ready to date a woman?"

"Why do you ask that?" His response was spoken almost gruffly.

"It's not a bad thing. I was just thinking that it's been a long time to be alone. I want you to be happy."

"I am happy. Happy as a clam."

The latter was spoken almost as a reassurance to himself rather than a reply to Natalie's question.

"Even clams like other clams," she teased, trying to get him to smile. She shifted her position and grimaced.

"You should take one of your pain pills." Her dad was in the kitchen retrieving the pill bottle. "You'd better have some soup first."

"I will."

"What kind do you want?"

"Sarah bought some chicken noodle."

The click of the gas range came to life, a pan was put on the burner and soon the smell of canned chicken soup wafted from the kitchen. Her dad came back into the living room, sat across from her and held out the pills. "It says to take one. It's Vicodan."

"I've never had it before."

"You should eat the soup first." His silver eyebrows were bushy slashes above his eyes.

"I will. On one condition." She tucked her slippered feet beneath her, the pink shorts she'd slept in leaving her legs bare. Even in the wintertime she got too hot in bed with long pajama bottoms—those damn night sweats—but as soon as she got up, her legs were always cold even with the heater on.

Her shoulders were bare, the straps of her tank and bra offering her no warmth. The fabric, a soft white cotton, was wonderful to sleep in; she loved it. She owned three of the same shirt.

"What condition?" he asked.

"You go home now. You've been with me all day and it's been a long one. I'm going to be okay, so no more worries." She got up, shuffled into the kitchen and felt the minor pulse of a headache at the back of her skull. General anesthesia did that to her. It never failed. She ended up with a killer headache. "I can manage. See— I'm getting my own bowl."

"But you don't have to."

"I know that. But I can, Dad. Please." She turned, gave him a kiss on the cheek. "I love you. You were great to me. Now go. I'll be fine."

Indecision marked his eyes, his mouth pursed a moment. "Are you sure?"

"I'm positive. I wouldn't say it if I wasn't."

"All right then. I'll go home, but you call me if you need anything. I'll be back over before you hang up the phone."

"Deal."

"Okay. Deal."

She walked him to the door. A curtain of cold air rolled in as he let himself outside. It was cloudy and overcast with a damp veil in the sky, a breeze moving the twiggy bushes and bare trees. The cozy urge to snuggle under a blanket assailed her.

Natalie swallowed the pill with water, then sat at the kitchen table when she felt light-headed. As soon as the fuzziness in her head subsided, she'd get up and eat the soup.

The phone rang and she rose to answer, then went right back to the table while saying, "Hello?"

"Mom?"

"Cassie, hi."

Her daughter's voice was a comfort, and the distance between them suddenly didn't seem so many miles away. Trying to erase the pain in her head, Natalie forced a smile while listening to Cassie. "I talked to Grandpa after your surgery. He said everything went okay. How are you feeling?"

"Good." The answer automatic, somewhat stock. It was very close to the truth. Aside from a headache that was blooming like a firecracker on the Fourth of July, and the slight ache at her incisions, she was doing all right. "I'll be back to work next week."

"Mom, don't push it."

"I won't." Natalie rubbed her temple trying to quell the steady and slow throb, her stomach now suffering with a case of nausea. "I can't let Aunt Sarah have all the fun. And God knows what she'll do with the new line of teddy bears. She'll probably dress them up in something silly."

Cassie laughed, a joyful sound—but also twinged with something else that Natalie couldn't quite define. Perhaps it was a change in the pitch, as if she'd gone from a young adult's laugh to that of a woman's.

"How are things going for you?" Natalie took in a deep breath. "Are you and Austin still an item?"

A long pause greeted her by way of a response, and Natalie thought maybe the two had broken up.

"We're fine. I really like him lots."

"I had a feeling you did."

"I want you to like him, too."

"I don't know him, Cassie. Just make sure he treats you the way you deserve to be treated."

If she hadn't felt so awful, she would have kept Cassie on the phone requesting a rundown on all the details. As it was, she managed, "I hope you're doing well in your classes, Cassie. That's what's important."

"I know, Mom." She exhaled softly. "I wish you would have let me come down and stay with you."

"No. We discussed that. A trip midweek would have interfered with your classes."

"I don't care."

"Well, I care." Natalie fought the intensifying pain and light-headed effect from the pill. "Honey, I don't mean to cut this short, but I'm tired." She hadn't wanted to say she felt sick. "I want to lie down."

"Okay. Call me later. Promise?"

"I will. Love you."

"Love you,

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