He attacked the omelet that Henry made him for breakfast. His stomach had started growling at him the moment he rose and hadn’t let up until he’d been several huge bites into eggs, cheese, and mushrooms. He’d listened in silence while Isaac and Henry discussed the likelihood of spacemen (Isaac’s newest obsession, and one Lyle was more than glad was being shared with someone else for a change), but for once the concept of life from the stars wasn’t driving Lyle crazy. He was in a brilliantly pleasant mood. Sunlight poured through the windows of the townhouse and the a/c had been shut off in favor of the breezes that were puffing the window sheers like skirts in mid-twirl. Somewhere in the cosmos, a force had shifted and blown the chip off Lyle’s shoulder, and he liked the way that felt—like
