Kate left Peter struggling to get down from the treehouse and stepped through the fresh-cut grass, smiling. The vacant look on his boyish face when she left was priceless. Boyish but also rugged now with its two-day stubble.
She made her way to a pair of chipped white metal garden chairs set next to a vine-covered gazebo in the corner of Peter"s yard. The chilly metal felt good through her jeans. She stretched her legs, kicking off her shoes. The grass was cool, almost cold, but it felt good between her toes. Couldn"t do that on the concrete outside her high-rise apartment in the Chicago Loop. She could only afford a low floor, so she couldn"t even see Lake Michigan. Her view was of rows of anonymous windows in the next building and sky-crane-dotted construction down the alley where there
