In His Good Hands. Joan Kilby

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      He sat back and frowned. It wasn’t the total cost. That wouldn’t come until he’d added up all the rows with their individual items. He scrolled back to Unit Cost and changed it to Unit Price, then altered Total Cost to just plain Cost.

      Tegan missed a step and the dance game ended. As the next program loaded she wandered over to the table and leaned against his shoulder to peer at his laptop. “Whatcha doing?”

      “Costing out new gym equipment.” He typed in “Elliptical Cross Trainer,” Unit Price “$8,795,” Quantity “6.” He calculated, then double-checked. This time Renita wouldn’t catch him out on a single mistake. “How are the sailing lessons going?”

      “I get all wet and the salt spray wrecks my hair.”

      “You’re lucky. I never had the opportunity to take sailing lessons when I was a kid.”

      Tegan picked up the ropes and studied the diagram, making a halfhearted attempt to work a bowline before tossing the rope aside. “I have a partner for the sailing dinghy. Her name’s Amy.”

      “Is Amy a friend at school?”

      “She’s in my grade.” Sighing heavily, Tegan tried the knot again. “Who was that woman you were training today at the gym? Renita someone.”

      Brett glanced up. “Renita Thatcher, the loans manager at the bank.”

      Tegan planted her elbows on the table to undo the knot. “Do you like her?”

      “Sure, I like her. I like everyone.” Brett consulted the equipment catalog for the StairMasters and entered the unit price. Tegan was still there, studying him. “What now?”

      “You were different with her. Not…flirty and fake, but just, I don’t know…different.”

      He winced. “I act fake with women?”

      “Not always. Just with gym bunnies and football groupies.”

      “Oh, them.” Brett was tired of women who gushed over him because he used to be a professional football player. By comparison, Renita’s prickly standoffishness was a breath of fresh air. “I knew Renita in high school.”

      Tegan started working another knot. “Was she your girlfriend?”

      “She tutored me in math.”

      “Ah, so that’s what she meant.”

      “Sorry?” Brett murmured, deep in the middle of a calculation.

      “I told her I hated math and she said, ‘Just like your father.’ Were you really crap at it?”

      “Yes, I was crap at it.” Pointedly, he added, “But you don’t have to be, not if you study.”

      Tegan frowned at the granny knot in her hands and double-checked the diagram in the book. “Did you look at the notice I brought home asking for chaperones for the junior high school dance? Will you do it?”

      “Sure.” Brett lost track of which number he’d entered into the calculator. “Wait a minute. What did I agree to now?”

      Tegan repeated what she’d said.

      He rubbed a hand through his hair, bemused. She had a habit of asking him things when he wasn’t really listening. Sometimes he wondered if she did it on purpose. “Okay, I’ll chaperone.”

      “Good.” A run of musical notes signaled the Wii was ready for the next dance game. Tegan tossed the rope down and ran back to the other room.

      He began to go over his calculations one more time. He punched in the last few numbers and came up with a grand total of $235,000.

      It was a lot less than the three hundred grand he’d asked for. Surely Renita couldn’t say no again. He thought about her training session. As at their meeting at the bank, she’d avoided talking about personal matters. Well, fine. If that’s the way she wanted it. This time when they met, he’d be all business.

      RENITA WINCED WITH every step as she slowly crossed the lawn to the aviary. Even her neck was sore. Her golden retriever, Lucy, padded faithfully at her heel.

      “Squawk! Hello!” Frankie lifted his yellow crest and slid his claws back and forth on the bare tree branch that was his perch. “Wheeere’s Johnny?”

      Johnny, the calico cat, was curled up asleep beneath the huge shady leaves of an oyster plant. Hearing his name, he opened almond-shaped green eyes and yawned.

      Renita stooped to stroke the cat’s gold-and-gray fur, then straightened painfully. In a way, Brett’s assumption had been correct—her pets were her kids. Their needs were simple and they gave her utter devotion. She would like to have children someday, but for now she lavished her affection on Frankie, Johnny and Lucy.

      She went to the garden shed for a scoop of bird seed and poured the mixture into the feeder, careful not to get any chaff on her suit. The cockatoo dipped his head for a mouthful of sunflower seeds and cracked them open. Renita ran a finger down the bird’s snowy wing feathers. With luck he would live for another fifty years and she’d be showing him to her grandchildren.

      “Renita, are you home?” Hetty’s spiky gray head appeared over the side gate. She lifted the latch and came through, loose-limbed and graceful in her flowing pants and tunic.

      Steve shuffled slowly behind in a plaid shirt and dark trousers, every movement eliciting a wince and a scowl from him. Lucy got up and went to greet them, nudging Steve’s hand for a pat, recognizing her pal, the dog lover.

      “Dad, you look as sore as I feel,” Renita said.

      “Never mind that. Have you seen Smedley? He’s missing.” Steve’s sparse hair was ruffled, his face flushed and perspiring. “He hasn’t turned up here, has he?”

      “No, why would he do that?” Renita replaced the scoop in the bin and shut the door to the garden shed.

      “Yes, why would he come to Renita’s house?” Hetty said impatiently. “She lives across town from our place.”

      “I need to cover all bases,” Steve said, mopping his perspiring face with a handkerchief. “Man, it’s hot.”

      “Are you okay?” Renita asked. “You didn’t walk here, did you?”

      “We’ve already been all over Summerside by car,” Hetty explained. “That wasn’t good enough. Now we have to go over the same route on foot.”

      “He could have been hit by a car and thrown into the grass by the side of the road,” Steve said.

      “You always look for the worst-case scenario,” Hetty complained. “He’ll turn up eventually.”

      “You see?” Steve muttered to Renita. “She doesn’t give a damn what happens to my dog.”

      “Of course I care.” Hetty’s small hands tightened around the loose folds of her pants. “I’m traipsing all over the neighborhood, aren’t I?”

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