She glared at Max.

"What did I say?"

She headed to grab her bag for school. She just needed to go before she told somebody to intercourse off.

"A little touchy about her boy toy."

She froze at Max's taunt then turned slowly back. The boys waited in fear. She could see it on their faces, but Max had his chin up, relishing the prospect of a fight. He liked it, the bastard. She stepped back into the dining room, leaned against the wall and closed her eyes in an imitation of rapture. She rapped the back of her head twice, opened her eyes, and smiled at Max. "G'day mate."

He stopped smiling.

And before he could recover from her reminder of headboards and head banging, before the door had even fully closed behind her, the boys started in with the inquisition. It was planned, he could tell, as well as eighteen-year-olds could manage. Even Missy seemed to have been part of what he was going to call Operation Protect Gwen.

Ellen excused herself and made her way down the hall, and he watched her work her crutches to navigate it before even bothering to listen to the boys.

"So, she was pretty upset about it and..." Bryan shrugged, "Not cool. She's a great lady and, you know, you dumped her once so we just want to make sure that--"

"You really did dump her?" Missy drilled him with eyes the same hazel shade as Gwen's.

"I..." he what? What should he tell Missy? After twenty years he didn't know what really happened then or what the hell was still between them. "Things got complicated, and I wasn't good at complicated."

Annie snorted.

Annie was a smart girl. "Okay, I'm not that good at complicated even now." He looked at her. "Happy?"

She nodded.

Missy's eyes widened. "Are you my dad or something?"

"No. No." He said it with such force, he instantly regretted it and had to watch the hurt on her face. "Listen, Missy, you'd be the best thing that ever happened to me. You would. But you're the best thing that ever happened to Gwen and Steve."

It took him by surprise, the pain he felt saying it. He knew from the time he'd walked away from Gwen she'd marry and have children. She was the kind of woman who would do just that and well, no matter what had come of her and the tool. And seeing Missy had just felt good. He'd been happy for Gwen. It had nothing to do with him. But somehow saying no to Missy reminded him he'd given something up, something big and important. "I'm sorry."

"Sorry that you dumped my mother? Sorry that you're not my father?"

"Yes."

"Okay." Hayden, always the practical one, jumped into the silence between them. "We saw your girlfriend."

Max tried to make the shift. Nicola? "You what?"

Bryan sat straighter in his chair. "We checked her out, man. I mean, somebody has to have Venus' back. She feeds us and, you know, she's Venus."

"So, you checked her out to find what exactly?"

Jason joined in. "Grandma Venus said that she did the Google. Get it, did the Google? She's funny. And she didn't find anything good, isn't that what she said?" He checked with Missy, and she shrugged.

Bryan motioned to the guys around the table, "So, we decided we'd better see for ourselves, and so we, you know, hung around the arts building and just checked her out. No stalking or anything. I mean, I don't need another restraining order."

Max considered he may need to keep Bryan away from Missy. "Another?"

"High school, dude. Parents are a little crazy about their youngest daughter, like she didn't invite me in, and it's not like we even went all the way but--"

"Got it."

"Yeah, well I didn't 'cause, man, that girl could tease like--"

"You saw Nicola. Everybody happy?"

"No. She's completely hot. There's no way you're leaving her."

Max tried to follow that logic. Maybe he had matured past an eighteen-year-old male.

Bryan shook his head. "She leave you, man?"

Annie, looking increasingly uncomfortable, seemed to break from the crowd in his defense. "I don't think it's our business if--"

"Hell, yeah, it is." Jason, wearing his farm boy goodness, even had a little waver in his voice. "If he's not a free bird, he can't just chase Venus down."

"Gratis fugel!" Guy grinned.

Bryan smiled back at him. "Yeah, Guy, gratis fugel." Then he leaned closer to Max, asking with his posture to be reassured.

Max wished he could. "I'm doing a job for Nicola, some photos. We made an agreement that I'd do this one thing for her, and then it's done."

Bryan relaxed. "Probably a bitch anyway. I mean, hot, but--"

"Don't." Max stopped everyone with the word, but all his attention focused on Bryan. "Don't ever talk about her that way."

Bryan sat back, surprised. "Sorry. I didn't mean anything, just talk."

"Yeah, well, don't talk like that."

"Got it."

Max pointed down the hall. "I've gotta get ready to go to campus."

"Thanks for breakfast." Missy spoke up, an automatic politeness schooled, no doubt, by her mother. "We'll clean up."

"Thanks." Max didn't turn but kept walking.

They sat in silence until they heard his bedroom door close.

Annie looked near tears. "He's not over her."

Jason patted her arm. "Venus?"

Annie shook her head. "Nicola."

She might have stormed into Deb's office with more force than she should have. She hadn't meant to. She'd just been all stirred up with Max and the towel deficient in fabric softener and the French breakfast. Plus there'd been Ty and then Mranda, and then losing her dorm room to Steve's manipulation. And Deb had been, right from the first day, the only real adult around for her to vent to. But Gwen watched her, seated at her desk, arms crossed. She'd reacted to all of Gwen's woes with visible annoyance.

"Sorry, Deb. I didn't mean to dump on you. You go. What's going on with you?"

Deb laughed, short and without any humor at all. "Well, maybe you should ask your friends."

"My friends?"

"Nicola and Max. You know, that campus power couple you're buddies with? The ones that run things around here, like you didn't know."

"Until he walked into the kitchen that day--"

"And all that help you gave me getting rid of the lamb. Nicola didn't need it anymore did she? We were moving on to testing beef recipes for her. When did she tell you about her cookbook?"

"She's writing a cookbook?"

"Don't come into my office and pretend that you didn't know." Deb stood and pointed to her office door.

Gwen started to defend herself but could see Deb wouldn't listen, so, shaking, she made her way into the hall. She was going to see Max and find out what the power couple, and didn't that just make her want to scream, were up to.

She tried his office and the classrooms down the hall where the photography courses were taught. A lone student capturing a still life of citrus fruits on a blue tray sent her to the darkroom and assured her that in the basement the dark arts were still practiced even in the age of the digital revolution.

The darkroom sign had to be original to the building, and outside the door, a green light encased in a wire cage promised she could go in without ruining anything. She wished everything could be that clear. She'd never make another bad decision if only a green light would come on when everything was safe. She knocked just in case even darkrooms didn't work like that and heard Max's cranky, "What?" through the thick door.

She went in and he didn't react in surprise, but seemed to sharpen, like he was forever trying for an advantage in a hunt only he was engaged in. Yeah, that was good. "This is a hunt only you are engaged in." That gave her the upper hand. She watched him lean against the counter, a swirly grey Formica, worn but still working and could tell she had his attention. A green light really did mean go. "I have a couple of questions about you and Chef Gaspard."

"First," Max still leaned against the counter, but she thought she could see some irritation in his posture. "Chef Gaspard is the head of your program, so you'll have to take up your questions with her. And second, you came here," he gestured around the room, the shelves teeming with jugs of chemicals, "hunting for me. Did you want to talk about Nicola?"

Nicola. Even the way he said her name made it sound lovely and elegant. And French. No, she did not want to talk about Nicola. "Chef Gaspard is writing a cookbook." She studied him to see if he knew, but he kept the same relaxed stance. Maybe Deb was just buckling from the pressure. Still, she should give it one more try. "Do you know if she's writing a cookbook?"

"Uh, no. Don't care either. Why would you?"

"Some people," she wasn't going to cause Deb any more trouble, "think that she's using the program to test recipes for a cookbook. And you would be the photographer."

Max's eyebrows drew together then he shook his head. "The photos are for publicity for the program, brochures for potential students, you know, just documentation of what the cooking program produces."

That made sense, didn't it? Why would a big name chef like Nicola, Chef Gaspard, use a bunch of students to do her work anyway? She was a chef. She'd test her own recipes wouldn't she? God knew she had the skill, the time, the facility. Deb was just under a lot of stress. She'd been saddled with far more teaching than she could have planned for. It was a new program and a difficult time for everyone. She'd try to talk to Deb again. Maybe she'd calmed down already. Maybe she just needed caffeine.

Max walked to the door and flipped the lock down. When the green light went out and the red light flared on, she thought oh no he didn't and started to tell him to knock it off when he plunged the entire room into darkness.

Trying to catch her breath, the dark hit her like a blanket that required struggle for air. Her eyes adjusted just enough to see the area lit red below the door. She might be able to lift the latch.

She reached for it, felt Max take her hand, and pull her from the door. "I already opened the film canister."

She felt the first touch of responsibility. She didn't want to ruin an entire roll of film. Who knew what was on it? But this was Max. And he was not above lying to get his way. "You're bluffing."

He released her hand but guided her fingers, and she felt a film canister with several inches of film fluttering out of the metal holder. "Dammit, Max. You think I'm going to stay in here while you develop that?"

"Know it."

"Well, what if I don't care if Chef Gaspard gets her lamb photos?"

"These aren't from the kitchen. These photos are nothin' but kitties and puppies."

She laughed before she could stop herself.

"And children sitting in carved-out watermelons with little melon rind hats and shit."

She slapped at his hand. "Just finish already."

Chapter Seventeen.

Don't write off whole wheat.

It was magic, watching a picture develop. It had been twenty years since she'd seen it last. Max had been new to it then, showing off, if she recalled correctly. He was a young stud gonna shoot the world and land in every big magazine. She'd believed he would and also knew they'd be together. She'd never been great at math, but even a first grader could see those two things didn't add up. Maybe it had all been inevitable, and she'd just fought it more than he had.

But watching him again in the dark room didn't remind her of the last time so much as make her appreciate that with the right care, things would develop even if unplanned. Develop. She watched her mother's face take shape, the crinkles beneath her eyes fanning out in a smile like a sweet grandmother. But the eyes, he'd captured that about her, the bit of mischief that made her face that much more interesting, not bland vanilla but a swirl of something unexpected like cayenne.

Watching him work it was as if the photo developed life a thousand times quicker than nature did. In the next chemical bath, Missy's image changed from a blur of whites to the soft grays that formed her young face, a doubting, hesitant face for Max's camera.

She knew that look too, had known a thousand different looks from her girl and could identify every last one of them. It was a mother's gift, a mother's responsibility, she supposed. "When did you take these?"

"This is a roll left over from Halloween."

She looked at the photos more closely, but there was no background to tell the time or place, until the shot of Hayden. His nose seemed to break in front of her as the bruise and blood spread and darkened, making the Halloween rescue of Ellen look even more heroic. "Ouch."

"Ouch is right. Good thing I had black and white in the emergency room or this would really make you hurt for him."

She considered whether the shadow of black and white, like memory, made things better somehow. "I think it's worse this way. It's nothing but pain and light without distracting things like red blood or green bruising."

Max studied the photo. "I can see that." He lifted it out with tongs and washed it in the next dishpan of chemicals to set it. "It's one of the things I love about black and white. It's more clear in ways by being less clear. You know, there's less for the eye to focus on, and you get down to what matters."

"Oh, like the photo of me standing in a pool of coffee...uh, urine?"

"Yeah, like that."

Even in the dim of the room, she could see the quick flash of white when he smiled. It was so elemental, the darkness, Max's smile. Maybe there was less to confuse the eye in black and white. "I should live here."