trying in vain to recall a time when she may have possibly run into the woman before.

Nothing would come to her, so she simply attributed it to one of those déjà vu feelings you

could never explain.

But she felt certain she would see Carrie Howell again.

CHAPTER THREE

Jill drove into her driveway at exactly five twenty, the same time she got home every day.

Their modest home was in an older neighborhood, the huge trees indicating the age of most

of the houses. Some of the older homes had been torn down and replaced with newer,

upscale versions but the trees remained. She and Craig had bought the home shortly after

they'd married. His parents had been kind enough to give them the down payment. Right.

She knew now that it had simply been their way of controlling them. She and Craig, both

just out of college, both teaching at the same high school, had hardly had the funds for a

house. But his parents found just the perfect house for them. And as an added bonus, it

wasn't even a block from their own.

Jill rolled her eyes, wondering why she'd allowed it in the first place. But the truth was,

she'd fallen in love with the two-story house, the big trees, the huge yard, the quiet

neighborhood. So it seemed a blessing at the time when they offered the down payment.

She just had no idea they'd be involved in their life as much as they were.

She parked her car in the driveway well to the right to give Craig room to pull in his truck.

The two-car garage was packed, with room for only one vehicle. Craig's new truck meant

Jill had to park her old Subaru outside now. It had seen some years but she couldn't bear

to part with it, not when gas prices were what they were and she was getting well over

thirty miles to the gallon. She raised a corner of her mouth in a smile and raised her

eyebrows. But it wasn't like she went anywhere. Back and forth to work, back and forth to

town, hauling Angie around. She hadn't taken a real trip in years. In fact, they'd not even

gone on a vacation since Angie was ten. The older Angie grew, the more activities she

seemed to be involved in. Activities that took up most of the summer.

She was barely in the kitchen door when her daughter ran into the room, a scowl on her

face as she placed both hands on her hips. It was a gesture Jill used to find amusing,

knowing Angie had picked it up from her over the years, but now it was simply annoying.

"Do you have any idea what time it is?"

"Yes, I know exactly what time it is. It's the same time I get home every day."

"Mom, I had a study group meeting at Shelly's house. We have a biology project we're

working on."

"Why didn't you ask your grandmother to take you?" Jill asked as she opened the fridge

and pulled out a bottle of water, absently wondering what she'd fix for dinner tonight.

"Grandma always has to take me places. Why can't you take me?"

"I work until five every day, Angie, you know that. If you need to be somewhere before

then, ask your grandmother. You're at her house after school anyway."

"She shouldn't have to take me all the time. She's not my mother."

Jill closed her eyes for a moment. Apparently her mother-in-law was in one of her moods.

It was on those occasions she preached to Angie how terrible it was that Jill didn't teach

school anymore, how horrible it was that she had to work until five, well past the time her

only child was home from school.

But Jill would not argue with her fourteen-year-old daughter.

"Okay, let's go," she said.

"Go where?"

"To your study group."

"It's too late now, Mom."

"Then why are we having this conversation?"

"You just don't get it, do you?"

"Apparently not," she murmured. "Where's your father?"

"He's got a game tonight."

"Oh, yeah, I forgot. Do you know when he'll be home?"

"He's your husband, not mine."

Jill stared as her daughter walked out of the kitchen in the same huff she'd walked in.

Four more years of high school. Wonder if I can rent her out until she graduates?

"Probably not."

She'd been in this kind of mood for the last six months, since she'd started high school. It

was like someone flipped a switch. Her happy-go-lucky daughter had turned into the bitch

from hell. And she knew her mother-in-law just egged her on, pointing out all of Jill's

failings as a mother. One being the fact that she quit the teaching job all those years ago,

a job which would have afforded her the opportunity to spend quality time with her

daughter each summer. The truth was, Jill quit teaching because she couldn't stand being

around teenagers when their hormones played havoc with their personalities. She was

afraid she'd never want to have children of her own after spending her days with them. So,

after only four years, she quit. She found a job as office manager for Tutt Construction

shortly thereafter and she'd been with them ever since. When old Mr. Tutt handed the

business over to his son eight years ago, Jill suddenly found herself with a nice raise and a

new assistant. Seems Johnny knew her worth and all she did, even though his father had

treated her—and paid her—as an entry level secretary. Jill kept the accounts organized,

kept everyone on schedule and handled all the advertising.

And now that she had an assistant, it was a relatively stress-free job that she left at five

each day and rarely thought of again until she arrived at eight the next morning. No, her

only stress now was a teenage daughter whose hormones had attacked her from within and

who got immense pleasure out of driving her mother insane.

It'll pass. Words Craig had used just the other night. The problem was, Craig was hardly

home so he didn't notice the change in Angie. Unlike Jill, Craig loved teaching high school.

It kept him young, he said. It also kept him away from the house. Football in the fall,

basketball in the winter, baseball in spring, Craig coached them all. And in the summers, he

played on no less than three softball teams. On his off nights, he volunteered his time at

the little league fields.

It was no wonder they'd only had one child.

She took a package of ground beef from the freezer, wishing she could remember where

his game was tonight and if he'd be home at a reasonable hour. Out-of-town games would

get him home at eleven or later. If the game was at the gym, he'd be home by nine thirty.

She'd make up a casserole. If he was hungry when he got home, at least she'd have

something. If not, then tomorrow's dinner was already prepared.

She sighed, wondering when her marriage had evolved into this, wondering if all marriages

got this way after nearly twenty years. They rarely talked. Hell, they rarely saw each

other. Their sex life had become the obligatory once-a-week whether they wanted to or

not. That was once a week on a good week. More often than not, Jill was in bed and asleep

when Craig made it home. And that was another issue with her mother-in-law—Jill should

be out supporting Craig, going to his games. After all, that's what the other wives did.

Which was bullshit, of course. And Craig didn't expect her to travel to games, just to

watch him coach. It was ridiculous. However, he did want her to attend his summer softball

games. And she did on occasion. She knew most of the other wives and got on well with

them. But it got old, sitting for hours, watching a bunch of grown men acting like

teenagers, each trying to outdo the other and show off their softball prowess.

Changing out of her business clothes, she slipped on a comfortable pair of sweats and an

old baggy shirt of Craig's. As she robotically began preparing dinner, she poured a glass of

wine, something she'd been indulging in for the last year or so. Neither she nor Craig were

big drinkers, although he did enjoy an occasional beer with his softball buddies. But she'd

bought a bottle of red wine on a whim one day and enjoyed having a glass with dinner.

Dinner that she most often ate alone or with Angie. Lately, she'd begun enjoying a glass

during the preparation of dinner too.

As she systematically added onions to the beef, she thought of the woman she'd met that

day. Again, that nagging feeling of familiarity crept over her. She leaned a hip against the

counter as she added more wine to her glass, wondering if she'd see her again tomorrow.

CHAPTER FOUR

Jill waved to her assistant at noon as the younger woman left for lunch. Jill always enjoyed

the quiet in the office from noon until one. The phone rarely rang, giving her time to

concentrate on the books. Accounting was a skill she had to forcibly learn when she took

this job. Surprisingly, she found she was very good at it, intuitively so. But she hated

interruptions. And now that she had an assistant to take care of the mundane chores

around the small office, she could afford to close her door, shutting herself off while she

balanced the accounts.

But now during lunch, her door was wide open on the off chance a customer might come in