Free Table for five by Susan Wiggs

expecting Derek to pick Ashley up this afternoon, but he seems to be running late. Anyway, I have a class to teach tonight, so I’d appreciate it if you’d come and get Ashley as soon as you get this message.”
    “Oh, Mom’s going to love that,” Cameron said.
    The third message was from someone RSVPing for Ashley’s birthday party. It seemed strange, like planning a party in a war zone. Sean’s younger niece had been born into the turmoil of an exploding marriage, but of the three kids, she was the least affected, too young to understand what she’d lost.
    Then Charlie had called the machine. “Pick me up,” said a petulant voice. “I’m at Lindsey’s house and you said you’d pick me up and you’re still not here. Pick me up, you’re late.”
    The final message was nearly unintelligible, but Sean could tell it was from a girl who was more articulate at giggling than at speaking. Clearly, she wanted to talk to Cameron. Just as clearly, he was mortified that she’d called for him. Sean could see the heat of embarrassment in Cameron’s red ears, his averted gaze, his hands pushing into the pockets of his jeans.
    “End of messages,” said the mechanical voice in the machine.
    Sean felt a weird tightening of his gut. “Call your mother again.”
    Cameron shrugged and dialed the phone. “No answer,” he said.
    “Now your dad.”
    As he held the phone to his ear a second time, Cameron showed the first sign of worry—a small tick in his jaw. “No answer,” he said again. “I’ve already left them messages.”
    “Any idea where they might be?”
    “Nope.”
    It figured. Kids tended not to keep tabs on their parents. Now what? Sean wondered.
    The phone rang, startling them both. Cameron snatched it up.
    “Hello?” His face flashed momentarily with hope, then fell. “Oh, hi, Jane. No, my mom’s not here. You can drop Ashley off with me, I guess, since I’m home.” A pause. “You’re welcome.” He hung up. “I have a ton of homework, but I won’t get anything done now,” Cameron said. “Ashley’s a pain in the neck to babysit.”
    Sean’s tiny niece was so cute you’d have to be made of stone not to like her. Babysitting her, though, was another issue entirely. The prospect of looking after a barely verbal toddler was terrifying to Sean. “I bet your mother will be home any minute,” he said.
    Cameron shrugged again.
    “What about Charlie?” Sean asked.
    “Sounds like she wants to come home.”
    “Any idea who Lindsey is? Where she lives?”
    “Nope.” Cameron looked at the small screen on the phone. “The number’s on caller ID.”
    “I’d better give them a call.” Sean punched in the number. A woman’s voice answered, and for a moment he blanked,then said, “Ma’am, this is Charlie Holloway’s uncle, Sean Maguire. I’m calling about my niece.”
    “Oh! I’m Nancy Davenport. Would you like to speak with Charlie?”
    “Actually, I was just calling to let you know…I’m afraid her mother might not be there to pick her up. She’s been…delayed. Charlie’s brother is here with me, so I’ll come and get her.”
    “That’s no problem,” the woman said. “I’ll run her home. I haven’t started dinner yet.”
    Sean thanked her and hung up. He looked at Cameron.
    “No clue,” the boy said, but his gaze shifted to the door and then to the floor, a little too quickly. “My mom’s always got something going on. She probably forgot to tell anybody.”
    Sean wandered into the kitchen. He studied the calendar clipped with magnets to the refrigerator. The current date had a notation. “Conf. w/Lily & D., 3:15 p.m.”
    “What do you make of this?” he asked Cameron.
    “Lily—the teacher on the answering machine. Miss Robinson. She was my third-grade teacher and now Charlie’s in her class. Maybe there was a conference with her. Charlie’s been doing lousy in school all year.” Cameron rolled his eyes. “How does a kid flunk third grade, that’s what I’d