Chapter 3

      Mrs. Crane couldn’t leave fast enough. After a quick report that Samuel had refused to eat dinner or quit playing his video game or go to bed, she was gone. Stefan noticed Daria looking around the house with interest, but he couldn’t read her reaction to his place in her expression. He wasn’t sure if maybe he should be glad of that.

      But right now he shouldn’t be thinking about that. He shouldn’t be thinking about Daria at all, but about the rebellious kid who had landed on him. He walked over to where the boy was indeed glued to his video controller, his eyes on the screen. He didn’t even look up when Stefan came in. And not for the first time, Stefan thought he should never have hooked the system up to the big TV. He’d foolishly thought of it as a peace offering.

      He walked over to the couch. “Way past your bedtime.”

      The boy didn’t even look up from his game.

      “Come on, Samuel. Shut it down.”

      Again the boy ignored him.

      “He’s almost to the big castle. He can’t stop now.” Stefan turned to stare at Daria. Even Samuel looked up, startled. “Watch out, there’s a zombie!” she warned the boy, who quickly went back to the game, and with a couple of button presses, the stiffly walking, sickly-green creature was gone.

      “Nicely done,” Daria said. “Now, when you get to the castle wall, it’s time to come have something to eat before bed. Got it?”

      “Yeah,” Samuel said, focused on the game but still responding.

      And to Stefan’s shock, when the game seemed to pause at the foot of a soaring stone wall, Samuel closed it and put down the controller.

      “Have you encountered the dragon yet?” Daria asked the boy conversationally as they walked toward the kitchen. Stefan followed, suddenly feeling like a bystander in his own house.

      “Not yet,” Samuel said.

      “Ohhhh, you wiiill,” she said in an over-the-top creepy voice that made Samuel laugh. Stefan was gaping now; he hadn’t seen his son laugh since he’d been here.

      Then the boy looked at her curiously. “Who are you?”

      “My name is Daria. I’m working with your dad for a while.”

      The boy’s expression changed, became something wary. “Oh.”

      “You don’t like that,” Daria said. “Why?”

      “My mom worked with someone. An’ he doesn’t like me. So she sent me away. Now I’m stuck here.”

      Daria glanced at Stefan, and he felt his jaw tighten involuntarily.

      “Well, I like you, so no problem,” she said to Samuel cheerfully. “What do you want to eat?”

      The wariness faded from the boy’s expression. And Stefan had the niggling thought that he should be paying attention.

      “I don’t know,” Samuel said. “There’s never anything good here.”

      “Really? Nothing?”

      “It’s all this fancy stuff.”

      “Not even a good burger, huh?” Daria sympathized.

      “No.”

      “Maybe we should just look and see if there’s anything we can make edible.”

      “What’s edi—ed…what you said?”

      “It means you can eat it without gagging,” she said in a loud whisper.

      And again the boy laughed. Stefan gave a slow, wondering shake of his head. I should definitely be paying attention here. How does she do that?

      Daria was looking at him questioningly. He realized she was seeking some reaction from him, probably to her taking over. “Don’t stop now,” he muttered.

      And then she was in his kitchen. Looking in the refrigerator. She ignored the leftover Szechuan takeout he’d had last night and figured they would eat later while working, and if she noticed the six-pack of beer—well, five-pack, now—on the top shelf, she ignored it. She poked into the deli drawer, then looked over her shoulder at him.

      “Bread?” she asked.

      Afraid to say anything for fear of setting Samuel off again, he walked over to the small pantry and got out the half loaf that was in there.

      “Good,” she said. “Samuel, do you know where a skillet is?”

      Stefan blinked, since it was hanging on a rack practically in front of her, opened his mouth to answer, then shut it again.

      “Silly, it’s right there,” Samuel said, grinning and pointing.

      “Why, so it is. Good eyes, my friend.”

      She’d done it on purpose, Stefan realized. She was bringing Samuel into the conversation in a way he never would have thought of. And the boy was responding, right before his eyes.

      “Now if only we had some butter, we could have a mega grilled cheese sandwich.”

      Looking intrigued, Samuel trotted into the kitchen and pointed at a covered dish on the counter. He was tall for his age, but not quite tall enough to reach it. “It’s in there.”

      “Then we’re a go.” She reached up for the skillet, unhooked it and handed it to the boy, who looked beyond startled. “Go set that on a front burner for me, will you? Don’t turn it on yet, though. I have to get the stuff ready.”

      “’Kay.”

      With exquisite care, Samuel carried the skillet over and set it down as she’d instructed. Stefan was leaning against the opposite kitchen counter now, watching in complete fascination.

      “Good job,” Daria said. “But do you see a problem?”

      “No.”

      “Back up a little.” The boy did so. “Now walk toward me.”

      He started to do as she’d said. Then, suddenly, just before his face would have collided with the protruding skillet handle, he yelped, “Oh!” Samuel reached and moved the skillet so the handle wasn’t sticking out.

      “Wow, you figured that out quick,” Daria said. And Stefan felt the strangest sensation somewhere in his chest as his son beamed at her. He’d been wrestling with the boy for a month now, and she had charmed him in fifteen minutes flat.

      Not only that, but when she’d finished preparing the thick, melted cheese sandwich, the boy gobbled it down, along with a big glass of the milk Samuel had looked at scornfully when Stefan had offered it to him.

      “Now, let’s get you to bed, so you can be all rested up to attack tomorrow.”

      The boy seemed to like the way she put it and happily headed into