The One Safe Place by Kathleen O`Brien

“Put that back together for me, would you, please? You saw how I took it apart, right?”
    When the little boy accepted the screwdriver, Theo nodded briefly, then turned to Faith. “What exactly do you think I’m trying to tell you?”
    â€œWell…” Faith felt herself coloring. “Just that Melissa Fairmont was a very unusual, very accomplished woman. And that Dr. Fairmont may be disappointed to discover how little his new housekeeper has in common with her.”
    â€œWell, that’s part of it.” Theo smiled. “You may disappoint him in some ways. But you may also make him laugh.” She looked at the broken vacuum.
    â€œIn fact, I’m absolutely positive you will. And a little laughter may be what this house needs most of all.”
    Â 
    R EED HAD TOYED with the idea of skipping dinner—he had plenty of work to do in the clinic—but he’d finally decided that would be too cowardly.
    He had to sit down and share a meal with his new houseguests sooner or later. And, as he’d learned thefirst day at med school, when it came to facing a problem, sooner was always better.
    It wasn’t, in the end, quite as awkward as he’d feared. Theo’s chicken-mushroom casserole was delicious, of course, and Faith had obviously worked to set a homey tone. She’d filled a small cut-glass bowl with yellow apples for a centerpiece, and she had found Melissa’s favorite green-flowered napkins, which looked great against the maple table.
    She was good at keeping the conversation going, too. She showed an intelligent—though undeniably artificial—interest in every detail of his veterinary practice. To help her along, Reed trotted out his silliest stories—the duck that bit the sheriff, the lizard that liked to have his tummy rubbed, the bunny that hatched an egg and the cat that delivered her kittens in a birdcage.
    He even mentioned that he was heading out after dinner to see those newborn kittens, and suggested that Spencer and Faith could join him if they liked.
    But, though both he and Faith kept sending encouraging glances down to Spencer’s end of the table, the kid never cracked a smile.
    When it was over, Spencer had dashed upstairs to his room, Tigger close on his heels. Now Faith and Reed were in the kitchen washing dishes in a silence that was strangely comfortable.
    Suddenly the telephone rang. Faith whirled toward it so eagerly Reed thought for a moment she plannedto answer it herself. She seemed to remember just in time that this wasn’t her house.
    â€œSorry,” she said. She backed away with a sheepish smile and returned to the sudsy water. But her posture was tight and wary. He could tell she was listening intently as he picked up the receiver.
    It was just the Petermans, the overprotective owners of the spoiled lizard. Reed managed to assure them that Spike was quite contented, eating well, but not too much, missing them, but not too much, getting plenty of attention, but not too much.
    Finally he hung up the phone with a chuckle and turned to Faith. “Spike’s owner. Apparently Spike suffers from separation anxiety. If he looks lonely, I’m supposed to give him extra food. Unfortunately, I’m having trouble reading the nuances of his facial expression. It always looks like a cross between superbored and mildly ticked off.”
    She smiled half-heartedly. “Well, maybe lizard nuances are more in their body language.”
    Reed shrugged. “Maybe. Or maybe the Petermans are nuts.”
    Truth was, though, Reed did believe in body language, in animals and in people. And right now Faith Constable’s body language screamed tension. She had wanted that telephone call to be someone else. But who?
    He took Theo’s rinsed casserole dish from her hands and began rubbing it with his thickest kitchentowel. “I wondered—the way you went for the telephone. Are you expecting a call from