Lovers And Other Strangers. Dallas Schulze

out that only three of the kids actually belonged to the McKinnons, and he never had figured out which of the animals were theirs.

      “Dad retired three years ago, and he and Mom bought an RV. They spend most of the year on the road. Kate is married and has a couple of kids. She lives in Boston now, and Rich married a woman with three kids and then they had two more so Mom and Dad divide their time among the grandchildren. They spend a couple of months here in the spring so Mom can catch up on the local gossip and Dad can make sure I’m not running the hardware store into the ground, and then they take off again.”

      “Did your dad ever finish remodeling the house?” Reece asked.

      Frank laughed and shook his head. “Hell, no. When we moved in, three out of four bathrooms were torn apart and the back hall was halfway through a wall-papering job.”

      “And three years later, two bathrooms are still without tile and the wallpaper is up but the floor is only half-refinished,” a new voice said.

      “What can I say? It’s genetic,” Frank said, his smile softening as he turned to slide one arm around the woman who’d joined them. She was small, not just short but slim, with the kind of delicate build that made Reece think of pixies. Big brown eyes set in a heart-shaped face and a tousled cap of blond hair reinforced the impression. He had the fanciful thought that if she turned he might see wings on her back. But her bright, interested expression was human and familiar. The first few times he’d seen that particular expression, he’d had the urge to check to make sure his fly was zipped or look in a mirror to see if a third eye had appeared in the middle of his forehead, but it hadn’t taken long to figure out that it wasn’t the possibility of imminent indecent exposure or extra body parts, it was just him. His mere presence was enough to elicit interest.