Fortunately, Parker had knocked off hours ago. After staying up an hour and a half past Kate’s bedtime, running around like zoo animals—much to Charlie’s disapproval—Kate and Parker had finally conked out on the bunk beds in her room. For once, Tiffany didn’t care if Kate was up too late. Some things were more important than a regimented bedtime schedule. “How long is that kid going to be here?” Charlie wanted to know. He’d just spent the evening in his “den,” a fairly soundproof room in the upstairs loft, complete with a fifty-inch high-definition TV, a stereo that cost more than some cars, and a couple of recliners. It wasn’t like it had been a hardship for him to go up there. “He’ll be here until his mother comes back,” she said crisply. “Maybe longer than that. His father was in an accident.” “Oh.” She hoped that would shut him up. But no. “Don’t they have family around somewhere?” Ever since their conversation about finances, Tiffany had begun to see Charlie in a new light.
