They stared at each other. Parker knew she was wrong about one thing. She wasn’t a perfect stranger. He knew very little about her personality, but he was familiar with her looks. It was almost eerie, staring at Stacey’s face but knowing Stacey was gone. He didn’t remember her well enough to be able to pick out the subtle differences in their features, assuming there were any.

Erin’s hair was shorter, barely brushing her shoulders. Stacey’s had fallen nearly to her waist. A tactile memory flashed through his mind. The feel of silky hair being crushed between his eager fingers. He pushed it away, along with the guilt.

He studied her small nose and wide mouth. The latter curled up into a smile and the dimple formed on her right cheek. “We’ll see you at two,” she said.

“I look forward to it.”

He watched her walk to her car. It was a white four-door sedan, probably five years old. Sensible rather than flashy. As soon as she started the engine and drove away, he realized how many questions had gone unasked and unanswered. Was Erin married? He tried to remember if she’d worn a wedding ring. Had she officially adopted Christie after Stacey’s death? What was she going to tell the little girl about him?

A faint noise caught his attention. He closed the door and turned around. Kiki was standing in the middle of the foyer. Her blue eyes danced with excitement.

“So, what did she want?” Kiki asked, trying to act as if she didn’t already know.

“Don’t pretend you weren’t listening.”

Kiki wrinkled her nose as she battled her desire to protect her dignity by refusing to acknowledge her habit of eavesdropping and her need to share what she’d heard.

She clapped her hands together, then rushed toward him. Before he could step back, she’d grasped his upper arms and squeezed tight.