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and tried again. “Homosexuality isn’t just about sex.”
    Tash wasn’t listening. “I bet she’s going through the early stages of senile dementia. We need to get her help. I think we should fly to Chicago together and do one of those intervention things.”
    “Calm down.” How like her mother to drop this bomb and leave her to deal with the aftermath. They’d both known Tasha would not easily accept her grandmother’s change in sexual preference. Tash didn’t have a problem with homosexuality; she had a problem with change. Her daughter craved stability. “You don’t do interventions for senile dementia or homosexuality. You do interventions for substance abuse.” Thankfully her child was studying English, not social work. “And many older people have active, satisfying sex lives.” So she’d heard.
    “Does this mean she never loved Grandpa? Oh, Mom! Thank God he’s dead. He’d be so devastated!”
    “Honey, why don’t you let this news sink in for a while before we talk about it. Can you come over for dinner tomorrow?”
    “Tomorrow’s busy. I have a paper due Monday for Great Books.” Tasha attended the University of Michigan, and lived in a dorm about fifteen minutes from their house. “How about next Sunday?”
    “Call me if you want a ride.”  
    “Okay.” Tasha sounded calmer. “Maybe this is one of Grandma’s passing fads.”
    Not likely. Last time she’d spoken with her, her mother had begun organizing a Chicago chapter of the Gay Grays. “Just get your studying done and we’ll talk about this next week.”
    “Mom.” Tasha sounded surprisingly serious. “You’re happy, right? You don’t have any big changes planned that I should know about?”  
    The fact that she even asked the question was progress. Tasha had learned that she handled transition better when she could prepare for it in advance. Tash’s father, Jack, was the exact opposite. He didn’t know the meaning of the word “stable.” An adventure junkie with a degree in archeology, he flitted from dig to dig like he was Indiana Jones with attention deficit hyperactivity disorder. When Tash started middle school, Julie had decided the family should settle in one place. Jack had decided they should get a divorce.
    Julie sighed and glanced out the window. She did a double take. Was that an owl swooping across her new neighbor’s back lawn? An owl? In the middle of the day?
    “Mom!”  
    Tasha’s voice brought her back to their conversation. She turned away from the window and what was probably just a very fat sparrow. She’d have to quit putting leftover buttered popcorn in the bird feeders. “Don’t worry, honey. I’m very happy with my life. I’m always going to be your predictable, dear old mom.”
    “Which is just the way I love you.” Tasha hung up, sounding comforted.
    Predictable, comfortable, safe—that’s just the way Julie wanted to live the rest of her life. She’d had enough adventure with Jack, and then with single parenting. These were going to be her quiet, peaceful years. She glanced out the window again trying to see Harrison’s oak tree. So why was she suddenly feeling restless?
     

Chapter Two
     
    T wo hours later, a knock sounded on her front door. Julie set down her coffee cup and muted the baseball game before she answered. Harrison Chevalier stood on her doorstep, dressed in his elegant tree-climbing attire.  
    “Thank you for the donuts.”
    She took the clean plate he handed her. “You’re welcome.”
    “The plate is beautiful.”
    Julie looked down at the perfect circle in her hands. The tiny silver stars along the rim winked at her. She’d counted them once when she was little. Exactly forty-two perfectly formed stars. Her age now, she realized.
    “It belonged to my grandmother. I never met her.” Julie had no idea why she told him that.
    “May I come in?” He sounded very proper, very polite.
    Julie became immediately aware of the old but comfortable sweatpants and