The next morning, Brett woke after Kelsey had left for work. As he lay there staring at the ceiling, thinking about getting up, Boomer made a stab at jumping up on the bed, missed and fell back, then finally hauled his butt up there. He turned around once, then collapsed next to Brett. He stuck his nose under Brett’s arm, nudging him hard.

“I guess you have to pee, huh?” Brett said.

He pulled on some clothes and ran his hands through his hair. Then he made a cup of coffee in a travel mug, grabbed Boomer, and headed to the dog park. He sat on his usual bench, and a few minutes later, Mrs. Paxton showed up with Tinkerbelle. She carried her her tote bag that contained her current crocheting project and a book or two. Boomer saw them coming and galloped over to meet them. The dogs circled and sniffed, and then they ran off together to do what dogs did. Fortunately, Mrs. Paxton had gotten over her fear that Boomer was going to snatch up her little darling and swallow him in a single gulp, and now the two dogs were fast friends.

"Hello, Mrs. Paxton," Brett said as she sat down beside him. "Lovely morning, isn't it?"

"It's muggy," she said. "The humidity has been terrible lately."

Brett smiled. "Don't think of it as humidity. Think of it as atmosphere."

"Atmosphere," she muttered, as if it was a dirty word. She pulled her crocheting from her tote bag and started in.

Brett took a sip of his coffee. "So what are you making there?"

"Booties for grandbaby number four. My daughter is due any day now."

"Congratulations."

"She's hoping for a boy, so I'm doing them in blue. If it's another girl, blue will just have to do."

"I'm sure your daughter will appreciate them either way."

Mrs. Paxton nodded, her fingers flying over the yarn. "I noticed you and Kelsey Morrison are keeping company."

"Yes, ma'am. We certainly are."

"With her borrowing your robe and all." She gave Brett a sidelong glance that said she hadn't been born yesterday. "I've seen you with other girls, you know. Coming and going."

"Yes, ma'am. There have been one or two."

Mrs. Paxton turned slowly to stare at him.

"Six or eight?" Brett said.

She looked away again and continued crocheting. "Kelsey's not just any girl, you know. She came along with me to the hospital last year when I broke my wrist. Made sure Tinkerbelle was taken care of."

"That's nice."

"She got that no-good super of ours to unstop Bridget Grakowski's sink."

"Yeah, I heard about that."

"She helps Gloria DeVita out with those three kids of hers, too." Mrs. Paxton shook her head. "But I don't know if there's any helping poor Gloria herself. Girl's got no sense at all."

"What do you mean?"

"That man she's seeing. He seems a little shady to me. Barely speaks. And all those tattoos. What's a man thinking when he does that to himself?"

"I don't know. I guess some guys just like tattoos."

"So what I'm saying is that I'm watching you," Mrs. Paxton said. "You treat Kelsey right, or you'll answer to me."

"You don't have to worry about that," he said.

“See that I don’t,” Mrs. Paxton said, and kept crocheting.

Brett finished his coffee. Then he called to Boomer, and they left the dog park. As Brett jogged with him back to their apartment building, he thought about what Mrs. Paxton had said about him hurting Kelsey. He had no doubt the woman had her Evil Eye ready just in case it became necessary to curse him through eternity.

As they got off the elevator and stepped into the lobby, Brett remembered Kelsey’s mother showing up there yesterday. Would there ever come a time when the two of them could reconcile?

Then he remembered the piece of paper.

He turned and looked at the trash can by the elevator. He dug through it, hoping somebody hadn't emptied it since last night.

Ah. There.

He pulled out the crumpled paper, opened it, and saw an address and phone number. He looked at it a long time, telling himself he needed to toss it away again. After all, Kelsey was right. Her mother had been terrible to her, and she had every right to hate her forever. Brett didn't feel too kindly toward her himself. But what if Kelsey had a change of heart someday? Wouldn't she want a way to get in touch?

Finally he stuck the paper in his jeans pocket, telling himself he'd hold on to it for safekeeping. But he couldn’t get involved. It would be a huge risk for him even to suggest that Kelsey needed to make amends with her mother.

He’d discovered Kelsey was warmer, softer, sweeter than she ever let on. More caring about other people than he’d ever imagined. But there was still a darkness about her, an edge he wasn't sure he could ever wear down. He still had the feeling that one day he could push her too hard, the shade would come down again, and she'd be gone for good.

* * *

The next evening when Gianelli's opened, Brett felt more relaxed than he had the day before. He’d taken care of a whole list of administrative tasks that afternoon. Then half an hour before they opened, he’d made sure the condiment setups were in place on the tables, the bar was stocked, and the bathrooms were clean. Greg was currently pouring ice over the beer behind the bar, and Andrea had arrived and was waiting on customers.

But where was Paul?

Twenty minutes later Andrea was waiting on a party of six and more customers came in, so Brett took a few orders and delivered some appetizers. A few minutes after that, Paul swept into the kitchen. He grabbed an apron and put it on.

"Hey, Brett."

"Hey, Paul. Did something come up this evening?"

"Uh…no. Why?"

"You're late for your shift again."

"Oh. Sorry about that."

"That's all you have to say? 'Sorry about that?'"

"Who covered my tables?"

"I did."

"Thanks, dude. I owe you one."

Paul smiled and gave Brett a clap on the shoulder, then started past him. But Brett was looking for more than a halfhearted apology.

"Hold on just a minute," Brett said.

Paul turned back. "What?"

Brett leaned in and spoke softly. "You have to start being more conscientious and get here on time."

"Is it really such a big deal?"

"Yeah, Paul, it is."

Paul frowned. "Jerry never cared if I showed up late every once in a while."

"It's been more than that, and you know it. Is it so unreasonable to expect you to show up to work on time?"

"Shit happens, dude. Will you lighten up?"

"This place is my responsibility."

"Christ," Paul muttered. "I knew this was going to happen once you took over. You're the boss, so now you're turning into an asshole. You used to be really easygoing. What happened to that guy?"

Paul left the kitchen, totally dismissing Brett, and that annoyed the hell out of him. No, he didn't like confrontation, but clearly it was going to take more of it to get the point across to Paul. If he stepped out of line again, they were going to have more words. And Brett couldn’t think of anything he was looking forward to less than that.

He remembered what Kelsey had said, that the slackers were the only ones who would have a problem with him. Maybe that was true, but one bad apple could definitely spoil the whole barrel. If Paul chose to trash him behind his back, he could turn every employee in the place against him.

* * *

The next morning, Brett had just thrown on a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and clipped Boomer’s leash to his collar when he heard a knock at his door. He looked out the peephole and got a shock.

Kelsey's mother?

He felt a sudden rush of anger at the woman who'd caused Kelsey so much pain. He knew he should just ignore her until she went away, but if he didn't open the door, would she sit on the same bench she'd sat on before and wait for him to come out of his apartment? Worse, would she still be there when Kelsey got home?

He decided he'd see what she wanted, then send her on her way.

He opened the door. Carlene turned and met his gaze. The family resemblance was strong between her and Kelsey. They both had the same golden brown hair, the same wide-set eyes. But while Kelsey radiated health from every pore, Carlene had a deep‑fissured, sallow face that made her look as if she'd lived three hard lives in the span of only one.

"Mrs. Morrison," he said.

"Carlene. Please. And you're Brett, right?"

"Yes. Kelsey's at work."

"I know. That's why I'm here. I was hoping I could talk to you. Do…do you mind if I come in? For just a minute?"

Brett knew if he let her in, he was making a mistake. But she looked at him so plaintively that he finally backed up a step and opened his door wider. Carlene walked hesitantly into his apartment. As Brett closed the door, she said, "When you two got off the elevator the other evening, it was nice to see her smile. It's been a while."

"Why are you here?"

Brett's words came out a little sharper than he intended, but after what Kelsey had said about her mother, he wasn't feeling particularly charitable.

"I'm here because you're a friend of Kelsey's," Carlene said. "Actually, from what I saw, you're more than just friends."

Brett was silent.

"Are you two serious about each other?"

"I'm not sure I should be talking to you about my relationship with Kelsey."

"That's okay. I understand." Carlene sighed. "Well, as you could probably tell, she and I don't exactly get along."

"Yeah. That was pretty clear."

"Did she tell you why?"

"She told me a few things."

Carlene hugged the strap of her shoulder bag and peered up at Brett. "Look, I know whatever she told you, it was bad. But I want to put it behind me. I want Kelsey to put it behind her, too."

"That might be a little difficult.”

“I know, but—“

“There was a certain birthday party. A bowling alley.” He paused. “A subway ride home that didn’t end well.”

Carlene froze. "Wow," she said, with a humorless laugh. "She really got to the heart of things, didn't she?"

“Do you have any clue how much you’ve hurt her?”

“God, yes! Why do you think I’m trying so hard to apologize?”

“An apology isn't what she wants.”

Carlene let out a breath, and her whole body seemed to shrink three inches. “I know that, too. What she wants is a mother. One who doesn't drink. I'm fixing everything this time. I swear I am. No matter what I have to do."

Brett wasn't sure if he believed that or not. According to Kelsey, Carlene had made that promise so many times over the years that it had totally lost its meaning.

"That's between you and Kelsey," Brett said.

"Yes. Of course. I just thought maybe…" Her voice trailed off. “Brett? Have you ever done something you regretted so much that you’d do anything to make it right?”

The pleading tone in her voice whittled away at the anger he felt on Kelsey's behalf, and he had to remind himself what this woman had done.

"We all have our regrets," he said. "But I've never hurt anybody like that."

Another sigh. "I know I have a lot to make up for."

He wanted to shout, Hell, yes, you do! How could a mother treat her own child like that? But something about the look of utter misery on Carlene's face made him swallow the words before they could make their way out of his mouth.

"I guess I just want you to know that I'm taking responsibility for everything that happened," Carlene said. "And I'm turning my life around. I won't be touching another drink as long as I live."

"You need to tell Kelsey that, not me."

"You saw what happened. She won't even speak to me."

"There's nothing I can do about that."

“Brett, please. If you can find it in your heart to do something…say something to her…”

“I’m sorry. It’s not my place.”

Carlene nodded sadly, looking at her feet. "You're right. I shouldn't even think about putting you in the middle. I don’t even know why I’m here, really. If Kelsey found out, she’d kill me.” Then she looked up again. “Please don't tell her I talked to you."

Brett didn't know what to say to that. It felt like a betrayal if he didn't tell Kelsey her mother came by, but in the end, what would her knowing accomplish? It would only upset her all over again.

"I won't say anything," he told her.

Carlene nodded. “Just so you know, she has every right to feel the way she does about me. Every right. I know I've probably lost her for good, but I can't stop trying to make it up to her. I'll never stop trying." She tried to say something else, but her voice choked up. She stopped, swallowed hard, and tried again. "Kelsey is all I have."

Brett knew he should feel nothing for Carlene. After all, every problem she had was one of her own making. But what must it feel like to know you've done something so bad that your own daughter might never forgive you?

"Well," Carlene said. "I should go."

Brett opened the door. She started to leave, then turned back. A bittersweet smile crossed her lips, and her eyes glistened. “You seem like a nice guy, Brett. And you seem to really care about her. After all she’s been through, she deserves a man like you. Just be good to her, okay?”

She walked away, and Brett closed the door behind her. He let out a sigh of frustration, torn between knowing why Kelsey was so against even speaking to her mother, and feeling sorry for Carlene that she'd screwed up her life so much that her only child never wanted to see her again.

He thought about her name and address on the piece of paper he'd gotten out of the trash. He reached into his pocket and pulled it out, intending to throw it away, because according to Kelsey, the matter was closed.

He just couldn't do it.

Carlene seemed so contrite, as if she'd finally hit rock bottom and was ready to claw her way back up. If that were true, Kelsey might eventually have the mother she clearly wanted. He just wished he knew a way to get Kelsey to open her heart one more time. Just one more time to see if her shattered relationship with her mother could take the first step down the road to becoming whole.

* * *

On her next day off, Kelsey woke early, tiptoed out of Brett’s bed, threw on his robe, and left his apartment as quietly as she could. She crossed the hall to her place, where she pulled a shopping bag out of her closet. She’d hidden it there so he wouldn’t find it and spoil the surprise, not to mention the fact that she was still a little iffy about surprising him with it at all. After all, her comfort zone was still pretty narrow, and this was going to blast her right out of it.

She grabbed the sack, emptied the contents out on her bed, and cringed. It was just as horrible as she remembered when she saw it in that shop window. She took off the robe and wiggled into it, hoping it wouldn’t look as bad when it was on her. But when she went to the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror, that hope was dashed.

The pink was horrible. If there was ever a color that was wrong for her, this was the one. But it wasn’t just the color. It was the fit. It shoved her breasts upward, giving her cleavage she didn't even know she had. But that was only because it too small. Way too small, making parts of her squish in directions they weren't used to squishing. The salesgirl had assured her it would fit her perfectly. Wrong. Just the fact that she’d discussed wearing such a garment with another human being had been humiliation enough for one day, and now she was going to wear it in front of Brett?

This was never going to work. He was going to take one look at her, see what a mistake he'd made by suggesting how hot she’d look in it, and then throw a blanket over her so he wouldn't go blind from looking at her.

No. Stop being so damned uptight. It's now or never. Do it!

She put Brett’s robe back on. She went back to his apartment and walked quietly into the bedroom where he was still sleeping, her heart beating wildly. She cleared her throat, trying to wake him up. She didn’t get his attention, but she did get Boomer’s. He rose and walked over to her, wagging his big, bushy tail.

“Go lie back down!” she whispered.

He just looked up at her, panting happily.

“Go!” she whispered again, pointing to the corner of the room. Unfortunately, Boomer didn’t look the direction she pointed. He looked at her hand.

Finally she grabbed him by the collar to lead him out of the room. As she passed through the doorway, she decided this whole plan was terribly misguided. She was going to take this ridiculous thing off, return it, and never even think about doing something like this again.

“Kelsey?”

She spun around to see Brett’s eyes fluttering sleepily.

“What are you doing?” he asked, then looked more closely. “Better question. What are you wearing?”

She looked down and realized the robe had fallen open, and the thing was exposed.

Oh, what the hell. She’d come this far. Might as well graduate from looking a little foolish to looking really foolish. She took a deep breath and loosened the sash of the robe. She pushed it off her shoulders, letting it fall in a heap behind her.

So there she was. Standing in front of Brett wearing something that looked like a bad Halloween costume. She was going as Slutwoman.

His sleepy eyes slowly widened. "Holy crap. You actually bought it?"

She frowned. “Yes, Brett. I clearly lost my mind.”

“If that’s true, then I hope you never find it.” He sat up and leaned against the headboard, eyeing her up and down. “Okay, babe. Show me what you got.”

Kelsey crinkled her face. “What does that mean?”

“Take it off.”