"So then the director looked at me and said, 'Well, what are you waiting for? Get out there, Doherty.'"

   Tyler regarded Jane intently over the rim of his coffee mug. "And what did you do?"

   Curled on her couch beside him, her bare feet tucked beneath her, one arm propped on the back of the cushions, she grinned at him. "I went out there, of course. And I ad-libbed like crazy. And somehow, it worked. My reviews were better than I could have hoped for. Unfortunately, the critics weren't so kind to the rest of the show. It closed after two weeks."

   "Was that when you decided to leave New York?"

   "Heavens, no. That incident happened four years ago. I've been in three obscure plays and two soap operas since then."

   "So why did you leave?"

   "I've told you. My aunt Helen called about the teaching position here and I decided to give it a try. I was actually working when she called me—a small, interesting part in a critically well-received off-Broadway production. The public hasn't really discovered it yet, but I think it will happen soon."

   Sometimes when Tyler looked at her, she felt as though he could look right into her head. It was those unnervingly intense blue eyes of his—they sometimes seemed to see too much. She wouldn't want him to guess that she'd come back partially excuse he was here. She had only recently admitted that to herself.

   "So you just dropped everything in New York and came back here because you heard there was an opening for a drama teacher?" he asked, politely skeptical.

   She lowered her eyelashes to conceal her expression—just in case he could see more than she wanted him to. "Yeah. Something like that."

   He obviously didn't believe her, but he must have decided he had no right to pry any further. He took another sip of his coffee and set it aside. "I forgot to tell you that Sarah called just before I left the house this evening. She said to tell you hello."

   "How is she?"

   "Ready for the baby to be born. They already know it's a girl. They're going to call her Madison."

   "Pretty."

   "Mom's beside herself, of course. At the thought of another grandchild. She does love being a grandma."

   You're lucky to have her. I know she's been a big help to you with the children."

   "I don't know what I'd have done without her," he admitted. "She actually enjoys baby-sitting. She even asks me to let her keep the kids."

   Jane couldn't help comparing Tyler's family to her own. His could have come from a 1950s sitcom. Lawyer father, schoolteacher mother, three smart, well-behaved offspring. Sure, they were Hamiltons—but they'd been remarkably scandal-free in comparison to the other branches of the family, as far as Jane knew. Had Tyler's wife not died in that car accident, he would probably still be living that Norman Rockwell life, himself.

   Though the prospect of having her own children seemed remote at the moment, Jane couldn't imagine her mother being a devoted grandparent. Lorna Doherty spent her days in a blurry haze of booze and television. The only time she'd paid much attention to Jane in the past few years was when Jane had had a small, ten-week part on Lorna's favorite soap opera. During their usually stilted weekly phone calls, Lorna has pelted Jane with questions about the other characters. Somewhat pitifully, she had seemed to truly believe the actors were the people they played—she'd even confused Jane with her character a few times, chiding her for causing problems between a popular pair of lovers in the story.

   She would have given birth to air to get her mother's attention, Jane thought with long-resigned irony. And then she wondered what had triggered the thought. It wasn't as if she was planning to have children any time soon—if ever.