Murphy Cooper sat on her bed cross-legged and read her book. It was a physics theory book that Professor Brand had given her. There were parts she didn't understand and those were the parts she was cross-referencing with the encyclopedias and reference books on her dusty shelves.

Her grandfather knocked on her doorframe and looked down at her, she smiled up at him. "They give you homework when they know you're coming back here?" he said in slight disbelief.

"It's not homework, Grandpa," she closed her book and smiled as he entered the room and sat down next to her, "it's just a book I'm reading, you know, for fun!"

"It looks a barrel of laughs," he said dryly as he read the cover. Murph turned it over and he looked up at her as she fumed a little.

"I thought you might want to come and help me cook the dinner," he told her.

"You've never needed any help before," she said in surprise.

Donald laughed at her response, "Murph, you brat! You're supposed to offer to help. Teenagers, jeez-oh!"

"Oh," Murph blushed and then frowned, she didn't like being tricked into feeling bad.

"Come on, Sweetiepie," he smiled at her, "don't get mad, I just miss your company, that's all. Come and make the dinner with me."

"Ok," she snapped out of it as she looked up at him. Over the last three years she had sometimes been bad, been awful and always her grandpa was patient, kind and calm. She would not be mad with him for anything, he was never mad with her. They walked down the stairs together, "What time's Miss Hanley getting here?" Murph asked as they walked to the kitchen.

"I told her six," Donald replied, "get the mixing bowl out, you're in charge of the muffins."

"Aw, what?" Murph said in annoyance, "muffins?"

"I got you this, so you'd better follow your mom's recipe well otherwise that's a waste." He handed her the plastic wrapped tub of dried parmesan, "and don't use it all," he warned her.

Murph took the wrapping off and stood back, her eyes watering, "God, it stinks!" she said in horror and she looked up with a wrinkled nose to her chuckling grandfather.

"It's supposed to smell like that," he told her, "trust me, it'll go with the chowder."

"Ooh, chowder," Murph suddenly became interested and walked to her Grandfather's end of the table, she looked at his ingredients and picked up one of the small cans, it had a ring pull, "Where'd you get this?" she said with interest.

"I will never reveal my sources," he told her as she looked at the can of crabmeat.

"Well, I'm looking forward to dinner now," she told him and she leaned her elbows on the table and watched him stripping the corn from it's cob. "You know we get chicken and fish five times a week at the institute," she looked up at him, "sometimes more than that."

Donald smiled, it was another reason he had been quite glad to send Murph away, the people in that place had more resources, more medical supplies, more everything. His granddaughter would be looked after. He'd listened to her talk about the meals she'd had a lot, sometimes it was all she wrote about, but he liked hearing it and he liked reading it. Tom on the other hand did not like hearing about it, her brother had even gone so far to say to his grandfather that the people there might have given some thought to them and next time Murph came home they could give her something for the family if it was all so bountiful. Donald agreed with Tom of course but he did not let himself get angry about the thoughtlessness of others, people who have everything rarely think of those who don't, Donald was just grateful that one of his family was being well looked after.

"So, why is Miss Hanley coming over, again?" Murph sighed as she watched him preparing the food but still did not return to muffin-duty.

"Because your brother invited her," Donald said simply. Murph shrugged and sat down.

"I'd rather she wasn't coming over," Murph told him and he looked down at her and raised an eyebrow waiting for her to elaborate. "I'll be good," she stressed at his look and she folded her arms, "just I only get two days off a week and I just want to relax, ok?" she huffed.

"I understand that, missy," Donald said to her patiently, "but your brother doesn't get any days off and I think he thought it would be nice for all of us, for you, for me, for Miss Hanley and for himself if we could have a nice meal together instead of eating alone- which is what a lot of us do most nights even if you don't."

"But you could have done that a night when I'm not here," she suggested.

"Murph," Donald sighed and put down his knife, "is it such a bore that maybe your brother and your old teacher might want to hear about what you've been up to since you left? Your brother and I haven't seen you for two weeks, Miss Hanley hasn't seen you for four months, we used to see you every day. It's because you're back that she's coming over for dinner."

"You know I can't talk about NASA!" Murph said angrily and she stood up, "What am I supposed to do, lie? Tell her I'm at some fancy private school that only teaches deserted orphans?" She moved to the stairs angrily, "I just want to sit in my room and read my book!" she told him.

"Murph!" Donald said her name angrily and she turned around and looked back at him. "She's coming over because she's my friend, ok?" he told her plainly. "I don't have many friends. You know that. But since you left, since I've been on my own here, Carrie's been a good friend. She wanted to see you because I talk about you a lot."

Murph was silent and she felt confused but her teenage anger was dissipating, "Tom said you were friends," she said quietly, "but I thought he must be lying. Why's Miss Hanley want to be friends with you?"

"Gee, thanks, Murph," Donald smiled at her and she blushed and came back to the table and stood by her mixing bowl.

"No, I mean," Murph looked up at him, "she's not like, a girlfriend?" Murph asked in a tone of quiet disbelief.

"Of course not," Donald smiled, "she's my drinking buddy."

"Is she gay?" Murph said with interest.

"I haven't asked her," Donald continued to make his chowder, cutting up his ingredients and sorting them onto a large plate in neat piles.

"What do you talk about?"

"She likes comic books and she likes hearing about what the world used to be like. Same as you used to. She tells me about her job, the school and the classes she teaches. She's friends with me because she doesn't want to be anyone's girlfriend, she just wants someone to talk to."

"She is gay," Murph said finitely.

"Well, maybe that's one of the things you can talk to her about later," Donald decided to stop talking. There was no point trying to explain to a teenager with bad mood-swings why two people who weren't her might want to be friends. He hadn't planned on telling her any of what he'd said but she'd been so spoiled about the whole idea that someone might come over for dinner that he'd felt reminding her that he was lonely was the only way to calm her down. Tom had never been a moody teenager and neither had Jane, he remembered Rachel at 21 behaving badly in front of her parents when they had been together for a year, he'd been mortified, Rachel had only ever been angry with herself, at least Murph's anger it recent years he could understand was all directed at her absent father.

Tom was locking up the barn when Miss Hanley drove up to the farm, he waved to her and walked to join her as she parked up and got out of her truck. "Hi, Tom," she smiled and walked to him and kissed his cheek. The teenager blushed and mumbled a hello, "Is your sister back?" Carrie tried as they walked up to the house.

"Yeah, got back last night, she's inside with Grandpa."

"She well?"

"Well as ever," Tom smiled, "got a whole bunch more science things to talk about that none of us understand."

Carrie laughed and the young man opened the door for her, Tom followed her in and closed the door behind him, "that smells great, Grandpa," he blurted before Murph or Donald could say hello to either of them, "sorry, been out in the fields all day, I'm starving," he apologized quietly and Carrie smiled at him.

"Hey, Carrie," Donald leant and kissed her cheek, she blushed and kissed the air.

"Hi, Donald," she smiled and he left her, walking back to the stove. "Hey, Murph," she looked down at the redhead at the table, she was reading a book.

"Hi, Miss Hanley," Murph looked up at her and almost smiled, but didn't.

"You guys can call me Carrie," she told her and she looked at Tom too who smiled back at her and nodded. "I'm not your teacher anymore."

"Ok," Murph said simply.

"Tom, get Carrie a drink," Donald told his grandson who was drinking a large glass of water at the sink himself, "You want a beer, Carrie?"

"Water's fine," she said quietly and looked at Tom who had not asked the question but was waiting patiently for the answer. He fetched a glass and got her some water. "What's the book, Murph?" she asked and she sat down at the table a few seats away, where Tom set the glass down for her.

"Science," she said back.

"Homework?"

"No, just a book." Murph looked up at her grandfather who had turned and spoke to her.

"Murph, are those muffins ready yet?"

She closed the book and got up, she bent down on the floor and looked through the oven window, then she looked up at the clock. "Another couple of minutes yet," she opened the oven and peeked in, a waft of cheese hit her in the face and she blinked.

"Wow, what's that?" Carrie said as she instantly felt her mouth watering.

"Grandpa bought parmesan," Murph stood up, "I don't know if I've ever had it but it didn't smell great when I was making them."

"Oh, I bet they taste great though," Carrie said excitedly, "parmesan's one of those things that tastes like nothing on its own but brings out flavours in other foods. How much did it cost, Donald?" she looked up at the chef but Murph answered for him.

"He won't tell, he won't even say where it came from. He's got tinned crab and shrimp too, he's probably sold all his organs to get them."

"Well… it smells like it was worth it."

"That's easy for you to say, you still have your liver," Donald piped up.

Carrie smiled and Murph spoke, "Grandpa, did you ever eat liver? Tom," she looked up at her brother who had changed his shirt and was sitting now at the top of the table, "we had chicken liver for dinner on Wednesday, it was so weird."

"What did you have it with?" Donald asked and looked round at his granddaughter who was sitting at the table now and talking to her audience.

"it was just on toast!" Murph said in amazement. "It was too rich, I didn't like it."

"Next time put it in a napkin and bring it back for your grandpa," Donald told her and he took his soup off the heat and set it down in the middle of the table on the wicker mat. "Murph, where are those muffins?"

"Oh, yes." Murph stood up again and opened the oven, flooding the kitchen with a wave of heat.

Carrie couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten something that excited her. Her parents had been quite conservative with food, they hadn't been interested, the Hanley family recipes were straight out of the federal guidelines for school lunches, the basics. And as a teacher she ate the same as the kids, it was all routine, the same meals for forty years. But she did know about food… Past boyfriends had been able to provide some interesting meals, all families had different special things that they made and her friends too had contributed to the range of things she'd tried. But being on her own she didn't save her money to buy special things, she had cornflakes and powdered milk each morning, she ate at school with the children each lunchtime and in the evening she'd have whatever there was, chips, pickles, conserves. She knew it wasn't healthy but there was something ingrained in her, some deep psychological thing formed by her parents lack of imagination and their fear of the unknown, Carrie sometimes felt she didn't deserve to have anything nice or interesting. Who was she to merit a tin of anchovies? She was just a spinster school teacher, there were families with children who deserved them more.

During her meal at the farm Carrie felt food-drunk. She'd been sipping water with her meal and listening to the family chatter and talk, she'd laughed and smiled and joined in their conversations but she was content in feeling like she was dropping in on someone else's dream, watching from the sidelines in the warm, well-lit room with its wonderful smells. She sat at a plentiful table with two strong and silent men, one young and one old, and the bright child who smiled and spoke animatedly to her family something she had not done for a long time when she had last been in Carrie's classroom.

Murph spoke about her week, the books she was reading, the food she'd eaten and the things she was studying at the private institute of learning. Her tutelage was one on one, with lots of teachers, her mind and her interests were expanding rapidly under this privileged way of learning. She was a gifted child and her family knew it. Even her brother- stuck as head of a household, head of a large farm, at only 19 was big enough to smile and be happy his sister had the opportunities he never did. When Tom spoke it was jovial and he spoke only about his girlfriend and her family and the evenings he spent with them. It was the love in his life that was the calming influence he needed to know his contribution to the family was worthwhile. Donald listened. Never before had Carrie known a man to just sit patiently and listen. Her father had been quiet but he had not listened, he had not shown interest. Donald listened to both his grandchildren and he asked questions, he encouraged and most importantly he joked, he quipped and he made them laugh. Murph's life was full of learning but at home she still laughed and was reminded she could be silly and she could be a child and the only responsibility she had was to make the muffins and lay the table. Tom too had such hard days, he worked and slaved outdoors to provide for them, to provide for everyone, but at home he could talk to his grandpa about the girl he loved and he could laugh at a joke and relax at an inviting table each night.

After their meal they continued to sit at the table and talk, Murph cleared their plates and left them for a moment, telling them she'd be back.

"Did she take a plate upstairs?" Tom shook his head and folded his arms at the head of the table as he smiled at his little sister's behavior.

"Maybe it's for an experiment," Donald tried and he moved from the table and went towards the sink.

"I'll do that," Tom got up quickly and moved in front of his grandfather and stopped him, "you sit and talk to Carrie," he ran the water before the old man could protest and Donald sat back down and smiled at their guest.

"He's the boss," Donald said quietly and Carrie smiled at him.

"I've never seen Murph so animated," Carrie spoke quietly to them both and she smiled up at Tom behind her too, "I'm so glad," she told Donald. "That was an amazing meal, you guys sure live well."

Tom grinned at the washing up and looked down at his former teacher, "It's not like this every night," he told her, "when it's just us we have pancakes five nights a week."

"We try and do something nice for when Murph's home though," Donald spoke, "you got lucky."

Carrie smiled at him, her face was flushed from the heat and the good food, she knew he had gone to the extra effort for his granddaughter but she couldn't help wondering if a little of it was for her as well. He had adopted her, not as daughter, not as lover but as something, he cared more than he should have and she did too, she couldn't help but find him admirable.

"Ta da!" Murph walked down the stairs holding the little cream plate in front of her, she looked up at Tom who was still at the sink behind the others and her face changed a little and she frowned, "Tom, I told no one to move!"

"Nearly finished," he promised.

Murph walked carefully to the table with her plate and set it down in the centre. On the plate, whose gold edge had worn to a dull golden brown over the years and lost its sparkle were six individually wrapped chocolates, all in shiny purple paper.

"Murph, thank you!" Carrie was the first to speak as they all looked down at the offering. "Where did you get them?"

"Professor Brand gave them to me," Murph sat down, "there were a couple more," she admitted, "but I ate them."

Carrie grinned, "I would have probably eaten the whole lot."

Donald watched the girls smiling at one another. "Coffee I think," he said and he stood up, "Coffee and chocolate, how continental."

"Professor Brand is originally from England, in Europe," Murph told their guest, "but he's lived in America since he was young."

"England," Carrie smiled, "how dashing."

Murph laughed and rolled her eyes, "I doubt anyone would say Professor Brand is dashing, he's even older than grandpa."

Carrie laughed and Donald set the mugs down on the table while the kettle boiled on the stove. "Thanks, Murph." He said dryly.

Tom put down a small jug of milk that he'd made up at the sink and he pinched his sister as he walked past, Murph shot him a glance and he shot one back. "Sorry there's six," Murph told her audience about the chocolates. "I didn't know you were coming when I ate the other two," she told Carrie.

"I'll just have one," Carrie smiled in thanks, "you guys should still have two," she told the children, "I'm sure your grandpa won't mind."

"You have both of mine, Carrie," he told her as he poured the coffee, "I've eaten my fair share of chocolate, believe me."

Murph's face fell and Carrie noticed it, "I'm so full, Donald, I'm telling you I couldn't possibly have two," she said plainly and Donald looked up at her face from stirring the milk into the mugs. She flashed her eyes and he looked at Murph who sat in silence.

"Good," Donald said and he reached for the plate and took the chocolate, he smiled at Murph who smiled back at him, happy once more.

They sat and drank coffee and each of them savoured their chocolate. Only Murph ate as though they were going out of fashion, and popped the second one in almost immediately after she'd swallowed the first. Tom kept his second chocolate beside him and both Carrie and Donald knew he kept it for Lois.

"This has been like Christmas," Carrie thought out loud and then blushed terribly as Murph giggled a little. "Yeah, ok, my holidays aren't great," Carrie rolled her eyes and admitted to the smiling girl. "Thanks so much for having me," she told them all quietly, "I've had such a nice time."

"Do you live on your own, Carrie?" Murph asked bluntly.

Carrie nodded, "I used to live with my parents, but my dad-" she paused suddenly in paranoia and wondered if mentioning her father would upset Murph, "died," she finished, it was only a split-second pause but it was enough of a stumble that her face paled and she swallowed, "and my mom moved away."

"Your mom left? Where'd she go?" Murph asked without a beat and Carrie suddenly realized that it wasn't about fathers, it was about a parent leaving their child. The deceased parent would never be at fault.

"She's in Kansas," Carrie replied, "with her sister. She looks after her," she lied. In reality both women lived odd solitary lives in the large house in Kansas preferring to be alone with their memories. She rarely wrote and when she did reply to Carrie's weekly letters she did not show much interest in her daughter's life she wrote only about what she felt her husband might do or say if he was still alive. She was never really meant to be a parent.

"Oh. That's ok then." Murph said, "I mean, that's nice," she smiled.

Donald reached and touched Carrie's arm on the table, he squeezed it momentarily and she looked up at him in surprise but he let go before she could really acknowledge it and he changed the subject.

"Murph, tell Brand next time we want chocolates with nuts in them."

"He's not a candy store, Grandpa!" Murph grinned in amusement.

Murph dried the dishes as her brother passed them to her. "I reckon she misses her dad, and that's why she likes him," Tom said quietly and Murph paused and looked outraged, Tom looked down at her and smiled. "It's not so weird, Murph," he assured her.

They had only been on their own for a moment, their grandfather was outside, walking their guest to her car, behind the thick glass and the shutters and the walls and the door the two siblings could hear and see nothing of whatever was happening and Tom couldn't help and wonder if it was more than it seemed. His grandfather didn't even have any male friends let alone female ones and yet Carrie Hanley had been assimilated into the family as if she'd always been part of it.

There was no question that Carrie was a looker, she had always been secretly lusted after by every teenage boy she taught for the last twenty years. Tom was no exception, he remembered eight years previously, joining her class and instantly falling in love with her. She wasn't just pretty but she was kind too, something every boy noted, especially those without mothers.

"Well, maybe," Murph said gruffly, "but why's Grandpa like her?" Tom grinned down at her and raised his eyebrows, Murph rolled her eyes and stuck her tongue out, "Urgh, you are so gross." She said angrily, "Grandpa's not like that."

"I know," Tom said to calm and reassure his sister, but he did wonder. He too had never thought of his grandfather in that sort of light but because it was so unlikely and because he himself had discovered after a string of girlfriends a very pure sort of love with Lois Dixon he wondered if there was nothing sexual between his old grade teacher and his grandfather then there might still be something deeper than just a friendship.

"I had such a lovely time," Carrie said softly as they stood beside her truck, "I was- I was serious when I said it was better than Christmas," she shook her head, "boy, I'm so tragic," she whispered to herself more than him.

"I'm glad you had a good time." Donald told her gently, "Murph really liked having you there, I can tell." He promised and she looked up at him and he smiled, "do you think she would have brought those chocolates out if she hadn't wanted you to have one?" She smiled and in the light from the porch he could see her teeth flash white. "Tom likes you too," he said gently, "he usually goes to bed early. We don't have many friends, guests," he shrugged, "but I think you were a hit. You should come again."

"Will you come to my place again?" she asked quietly.

"If you like," he smiled at her.

"Donald," she whispered and she put her arms up and around his neck. He held her, in surprise a little, she seemed overcome, she pressed her hot face to his cheek, it burned and he held her close. "You said the other night that you're glad teachers like me exist, well, I'm glad parents like you exist." She kissed his cheek.

He was silent, her words meant a lot, he didn't want to wave it away with a patronizing word or gesture, he held her still tighter and she shivered and breathed heavily in his arms.

"Come over Tuesday," she said quietly and he let go of her and nodded.