“I don’t know why she keeps doing that, Megan.” The gray-haired woman in the blue and green flowered housedress pursed her lips and shook her head.

      Meg chuckled as she surveyed the damage that had been done to the screen on the elderly woman’s front door. There was an indentation in the mesh and a tear at about mid-calf height. Meg looked down at the beagle and smiled. “Maybe Angel just wants to see what’s going on in the neighborhood.”

      “I’m sorry to drag you over here.”

      “No trouble at all, Mrs. Bianchi.” Meg took the roll of dark screen out of her canvas bag, as well as the roll of spline. “I thought that instead of patching the hole this time, we might just replace the screen with some damage resistant wire cloth. That way Angel can have her view without ruining your screen.”

      “You are such a good neighbor, Megan.” Mrs. Bianchi bent down and scratched between her dog’s floppy ears. “My son will be in town next week. He’s a very successful businessman, sells technology and doodads out East. He’s handsome and smart, quite a catch, and he’d adore a strong, independent woman like you.”

      Meg suppressed a laugh. Mrs. Bianchi was well intentioned, but also a wee bit senile. “Mrs. Bianchi, I like women, remember?”

      “Oh, yes. I forgot.” Mrs. Bianchi smiled and nodded. “You were dating that artist, weren’t you? Mindy, Mandy...”

      “Marty.” Meg walked over to the screen and removed a flathead screwdriver from her toolbelt. “She went back to Jacksonville last month. Something about a job at a community center there.”

      Mrs. Bianchi tutted sympathetically. “Pity. She seemed like a nice girl.” Angel barked and wagged his tail as he looked up at his owner

      “Oh, yes. It’s time for your walk, isn’t it, sweetie? We’ll be back soon, Megan. Angel needs to...” Mrs. Bianchi’s voice lowered to a whisper, “to go potty.”

      Meg’s face scrunched as she snickered. Mrs. Bianchi and her dog went out of the room toward the kitchen, and soon Meg heard the backdoor open and close with a thump.

      The smile faded as her thoughts returned to Marty. She was a nice woman, and, in truth, the two of them had lasted longer than most of Meg’s relationships. Ten months she and Meg had been a couple before Marty decided their relationship just wasn’t going anywhere and moved on.

      It went like that with every woman Meg had ever been with. They were all good women — strong, creative, and intelligent. Things would be going well — good times, great sex — and then after a while, it just all felt apart. They wanted commitment; they wanted emotional attachment. Meg just couldn’t give those things. How could she open her heart to someone else when she had long ago lost it to another?

      Meg removed the metal frame of the screen from the door and pried out the spline holding the metal cloth in place. She didn’t mind jobs like this. People like Mrs. Bianchi were good neighbors, and her mother had considered the woman a good friend. Every week, the two older women would get together in Mrs. Bianchi’s kitchen to play poker and talk about their kids and grandkids.

      When Peggy died, Mrs. Bianchi insisted on having the memorial at her house and cooked a big meal for the lot of them. Having her mother’s friend with them during that time brought Meg a lot of comfort, and in many ways, helping Mrs. Bianchi was like doing something special for her mom. Nothing else could match that feeling.

      Meg slid the tape measure from her belt and measured the old screen, then, unrolled the new, sturdier cloth and marked the new screen off with a bit of chalk. She was about to start cutting when her cell phone vibrated in her shirt pocket.

      “Crud.” Meg set the snips aside and pulled the telephone out of her pocket, flipping it open with her thumb. She checked the caller ID screen and grinned. She never minded that particular interruption. “Hey, Sky. What’s up?”

      “Can you meet Drake after school today? I might be home late and I want to make sure someone’s with him.”

      Meg could hear a tremor in Sky voice and her body tensed. “Sure I can. I’ll finish up here and be there in fifteen minutes.” After a moment’s hesitation, she said, “What’s going on?”

      “Some lawyer wants to talk with me but he won’t say what it’s about. I told him to meet me down at Miss Katie’s.”

      “I’ll call Kelly on my way to your place.” Meg rubbed her chin with her forefinger as she thought. “I think she’s on shift at the diner. Kelly’ll keep an eye out to make sure there’s no trouble.”

      “I figure if we meet at Miss Katie’s, if it goes bad I can drown my sorrows in a plate of cheddar cheese fries and a big chocolate malt.”

      Meg prided herself on being a healthy eater and the thought off all that grease and sugar in one sitting made her cringe. “Well, if for nothing else but the sake of your arteries, I hope it goes well.” Meg smiled as Sky chuckled on the other end. “See you back at your place?”

      “Soon as I can.”

      “It’ll be okay, Sky. No matter what he wants, we’ll fix it.” Meg flipped the phone closed and held it in her hand. She wished stuff like that was as easy to fix as a door or a faucet. Whatever this lawyer wanted, Meg didn’t imagine it was good.

      “Was that Drake’s mom on the phone?” Mrs. Bianchi’s voice called from the kitchen.

      Meg’s eyes widened and she turned toward the doorway. The old woman’s mind might be leaking a little, but her ears were as sharp as ever. “Yes, Mrs. Bianchi. I have to be there to meet him when he gets home from school as soon as I finish with your door.”

      “Oh, that will work out fine then.” The smell of warm pumpkin and ginger wafted out into the hall as Angel pushed his way through the kitchen door. “Let me send you with some biscotti and zuppa. I have a nice thick minestra in an ice cream tub in the deep freezer. It’ll keep until the boy and his mother both get home.”

      “Thanks, that would be nice.” Meg smiled as she turned back to finish repairing the screen door. Mrs. Bianchi was a very good person. Many times she’d sent Meg home with some of her zuppa. It was generally some sort of soup thickened with bread. La Zuppa fa sette cose Mrs. Bianchi called it. In Italy, that meant something that not only made you happy and content by filling your belly, but also healed your spirit. In this country it was called comfort food, and after that phone call, comfort sounded like exactly what her family would need tonight.