Once Daylight Saving Time arrived every year, Jim Scholler barbecued almost every night, and on this warm evening in late May he’d grilled chicken, which they’d eaten with fresh spring asparagus, a loaf of sourdough bread, and Eileen’s “famous” tomato-potato salad with cilantro and red onions. Now, still long before true dusk, they were sitting outside, in the Schollers’ large backyard in the long shadows cast by their mini-orchard of plum, fig, lemon, orange, and apricot trees.Over their last glasses of cheap white wine, and with Evan now reemployed with the police department, ensconced in his new apartment, and with the immediate physical danger from his head wound behind them, at long last Eileen had mustered the courage to ask Evan about his love life.He dredged up a chuckle. “What love life?”“You’re not seeing anybody at all?”“That’s not been at the top of my priorities, Mom. I’m not really looking.”His father cleared his throat. “What about Tara?”“What about her?”
