The Way Home by Irene Hannon Page B

place—good food, comfortable atmosphere. And not too far from your apartment, so it will be convenient.”
    â€œFor me, maybe. But what about you? I’m sure your day has been as long as mine. How about somewhere in between our places?” Amy countered. “Where do you live?”
    He named the modest suburb—a far cry from her upscale neighborhood. Considering his position, she was a bit surprised—but not too much. She was beginning to realize that Cal Richards was a man who preferred a simple life and didn’t have a pretentious bone in his body.
    â€œFrankly, unless you have some other preference, I’d enjoy going to Rick’s. It would be a nice change of pace. By the time I get around to dinner most nights I’m too tired to go out, so I usually just nuke something.”
    Amy acquiesced. “That’s fine with me, then. I’ll just follow you.”
    He waited until she was in her car, with the doors locked, before he headed to his own. She watched in the rearview mirror, and wasn’t the least bit surprised when he stopped beside an older-model compact. Despite his prestigious position, Cal Richards obviously saw no need for conspicuous displays of success. The man continued to amaze—and impress—her.
    When they arrived at the restaurant, he was out of his car and beside her door almost before she turned off the motor. As she reached for her purse andstepped out, she smiled. “My compliments to your mother. She obviously raised a gentleman.”
    Though he smiled in response, a fleeting pain passed across his eyes. “Actually, my grandmother gets most of the credit. My mom died when I was twelve.”
    Amy’s gaze softened in sympathy. “I’m sorry.”
    â€œThanks. It was a hard time for everyone. Dad was beside himself, so Gram suggested we move in with her until we got past the worst of the grief. It worked out so well, we never left. I always missed Mom, of course, but Gram was great. She did a terrific job as a surrogate mother. And Dad went above and beyond, trying to make up for the fact that I only had one parent. I don’t think he ever missed a single event in my life, from spelling bees to camping trips with the Scouts.”
    â€œI take it the three of you are still close.”
    â€œVery.” He ushered her inside the restaurant, and smiled at the hostess. “Hello, Steph.”
    â€œCal! It’s good to see you. It’s been too long.”
    â€œTell me about it,” he said ruefully. “Life’s too busy. But I’m overdue for a dose of Rick’s cooking.”
    She picked up two menus and led the way to a quiet corner table. “I’ll let him know you’re here. Enjoy.”
    Once they were seated, he took one brief glance at the menu then laid it aside.
    â€œA man of quick decision, I see,” Amy remarked.
    He flashed her a grin. “No, just in a rut. I always seem to get the same thing here.”
    â€œWhich is?”
    â€œSeafood pasta and the house salad. It’s a pretty tough combination to beat.”
    Amy put her menu down. “You convinced me.”
    A moment later the waiter arrived with a basket of crusty French bread still warm from the oven, and Amy helped herself while Cal gave their order. She closed her eyes and smiled as she took the first bite.
    â€œNow this is the way to end a long day,” she declared.
    Cal chuckled and followed her example. “It sure beats a microwave dinner.”
    â€œAmen to that,” she replied fervently. “Unfortunately, that’s my usual fare.”
    He smiled. “I take it the kitchen isn’t your favorite room.”
    She tilted her head and considered the question. “Actually, I like to cook. But there’s never any time.”
    â€œThat commodity does seem to be in short supply these days,” he agreed with a sigh.
    â€œYet you manage to find time to help out at Saint