Chapter 3.4

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   The main course was well under way by the time Tyler reached the conclusion that his son was seriously smitten. Tom has hardly taken his eyes off Jane since she'd arrived. Unfortunately, Tyler was having a similar problem.

   He knew what he saw in Jane—the same things he'd noticed even back in high school. He couldn't imagine any normal male being entirely immune to Jane Doherty's less-than-subtle sexuality. But he wondered what it was about her that held his boy so enthralled. Her bright red gait—which, he recalled, had been medium brown when he'd known her before? Her easy laugh and quick, expressive movements? The fact that she had saved Tom's life?

   Jane couldn't have been more opposite—outwardly, at least—to Tyler's late wife, Stephanie. Stephanie has been quiet, dignified, so prim and neatly groomed as to be almost porcelains perfect. She'd had sense of humor, but it had been understated, restrained. If someone had put them sis by side, one might have compared Jane to the sun—bright, conspicuous, hit—and Stephanie to the moon—pale, quiet, cool. Like moon, Stephanie had kept her dark side hidden, even from her husband.

   Amy interrupted his uncharacteristic daydreaming by banging her spoon on the tray of her high chair. She squealed in delight at the ensuing clang and did it again. Tyler reached over to catch her hand. "No, Amy. Eat," he said, redirecting her attention to the bite-size pieces of food on the unbreakable plate in front of her.

   Gazing at him with blue eyes that were exactly like her mother's, Amy gave him a slobbery grin. "Daddy," she said.

   His throat contracted, a now-familiar mixture of live and heartache he often felt when he looked at his tiny daughter. "Eat your dinner, Amy." He repeated a bit gruffly, holding a slice of banana to her rosy lips.

   Once she was busy with her food again, he turned back to his own plate. His gaze collided abruptly with Jane's across the table, and he resisted the impulse to squirm in his seat. He couldn't read her expression, but he had the uncomfortable sensation that she saw entirely too much when she looked at him.

   As was often the case, Debbie dominated the dinner conversation. Tyler loves his mother and knee she had a kind heart and a generous nature , but he wasn't blind to her bossiness or he penchant for being a little overbearing. While there were a few people who couldn't stand her, most folks overlooked her shortcomings in favor of her many good qualities. She'd been teaching in elementary school since before Tyler was born, and few questioned her competence—or her knack for running the most efficient and well-behaved classrooms in the school.

   At the moment, she was on diatribe about an incident that had happened to her through locally owned bank where Sally had worked for several years, before quitting to be a full-time mother.

   "All this new technology that's supposed to make things easier for the customers—it's just a lot of garbage," Debbie said bluntly. "I called yesterday to see if a check had cleared, and I spent forty-five minutes on the telephone with some girl giving me directions on how to use the new automated teller services. I told her I don't want to talk to a recorded teller, and she said I had to learn how, because it would be much more 'convenient' for me in the long run. I want to know what's 'convenient' about having to punch in a half-dozen code numbers and then listen to a recording I can hardly understand, hmm? She could have given me the information I needed in less than five minutes. Laziness, that's what it is. No one wants to provide personal service anymore.

   "'Automated teller.'" The very term seemed to enrage Debbie. "I'll tell you the same as I told that girl. If everything's going to be automated down there, why do they need a staff?"

   "She's got a point there, Sally," Dave murmured, seeming to enjoy his wife's discomfort.

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