Key Of Valor - Key Trilogy 3 Part 17

"They're really beautiful. Thank you. Simon, why don't we put Moe out back for now? You can take your books in the other room and finish those last couple of problems. Then we'll eat."

"What kind of problems?" Brad asked as he wandered around to Simon's books.

"Stupid fractions." Simon opened the back door for Moe and sent his mother a long-suffering look. "Can't I do them later?"

"Sure, if you don't want your hour after dinner."

Simon's mouth curled in what his mother recognized as the onset of a serious snit. "Fractions bite. It all bites. We got calculators and computers and junk, so how come I have to do it?"

"Because-"

"Yeah, calculators make it easy." Brad spoke casually over Zoe's heat, and traced a finger over Simon's worksheet. "These are probably too tough for you to figure out by yourself."

"No, they're not."

"I don't know. Looks pretty tough to me. You've got to add this three and three-quarters to the two and five-eighths. Heavy stuff."

"You just have to change the quarters to eighths, that's all. Like this." Simon grabbed the pencil and, clamping his tongue in his teeth, did the conversion. "So, see, now you can add up the six-eighths and the five-eighths, then you take it down again to one and three-eighths, plus the whole number jazz. So altogether you get six and three-eighths. See, the answer's six and three-eighths."

"Ha. How about that?"

"Was that a trick?" Simon asked suspiciously.

"I don't know what you're talking about." He ruffled Simon's hair. "Do the last one, smart guy."

"Man."

Zoe watched Brad lean over her son's shoulder, felt her system start to slide toward melting when he looked up, smiled into her eyes.

No, she was afraid he wasn't just a man, not just a friend who'd dropped by for dinner.

"Done!" Simon slapped his book closed. "Do I get parole, warden?"

"You're out of the slammer for now. Go ahead and put your books away, and wash up for dinner." Zoe poured two gla.s.ses of wine as Simon bolted out of the room. "You're good with stubborn little boys."

"It probably helps that I used to be one." He took the gla.s.s from her. "He's quick with numbers."

"Yes, he is. He does really well in school. He just hates homework."

"He's supposed to, isn't he? What are you wearing?"

"I..." Off center again, she looked down at her navy blue sweater.

"Not the clothes, the perfume. You always smell fabulous, and never quite the same."

"I'm trying out a lot of different products. Soaps and creams and..." Catching the gleam in his eye, she lifted her wine to her lips before he could lean in and take them with his own. "Scents."

"It's funny. A lot of women have a favorite scent, like a signature. And it can haunt a man. You make a man wonder what it'll be today, so he can't stop thinking about you."

She'd have backed up, but there wasn't enough room in the kitchen to do so without making it obvious. "I don't wear scents for men."

"I know. That only makes it more seductive."

He caught her panicked glance toward the doorway when they heard Simon coming back. Casually, Brad moved aside andlet Zoe turn back to the stove.

"Are we going to eat now?" Simon demanded.

"Just putting the spaghetti in. Go ahead and sit down. We'll start on the salad."

She set a pretty table, Brad thought. Colorful plates, festive bowls, linens in a cheerful pattern. There were candles burning, and since Simon made no comment about them, Brad concluded they weren't unusual at the McCourt table.

He thought she was relaxing into it, by degrees. The boy was responsible for most of that, of course. He was full of chatter, questions, comments, all of which he managed to get out even though he ate like a stevedore.

Not that Brad could blame him. Simon's mother made a h.e.l.l of a plate of spaghetti.

He had a second helping himself.

"I Like your pictures in the living room," Brad said to Zoe.

"The postcards? I collect them from people I know who go places."

"We make the frames," Simon put in. "Mom has a miter box. Maybe one day we'll go places, and we'll send people postcards. Right, Mom?"

"Where do you want to go?"

"I don't know." She twirled pasta absently around her fork. "Somewhere."

"We're going to Italy one day, and eat spaghetti over there." Grinning, Simon stuffed more in his mouth.

"They don't make it any better than your mom does."

"You been over there and stuff?"

"Yeah. The picture you have of the bridge in Florence? I've stood there."

"Is it really cool?" Simon wanted to know.

"It's really cool."

"They've got a place over there that's got water for streets."

"Venice, Simon," Zoe reminded him. "They're ca.n.a.ls. Have you been to Venice?" she asked Brad.

"Yes. It's beautiful. You go everywhere in boats," he told Simon. "Or you walk. They have water taxis and water buses."

"Get out!"

"Really. There aren't any cars in Venice, and no roads for them. I've got some pictures somewhere. I'll dig them out and show them to you."