And I'm good at managing things

And I'm good at managing things."

"Managing things?" Despite the fact that he'd already

made up his mind that this whole idea was crazy, Luke

couldn't resist the urge to pursue that comment.

"Household stuff, mostly," Cat clarified. "My mother

wasn't exactly the most practical person in the world, so I

sort of watched out for her, made sure she didn't spend all

our money on some spiritual quest and forget all about

buying food and paying the rent. And Larry is pretty much

the classic absentminded professor. If someone didn't look

after things, he'd probably cook the cat and put food out for

the pot roast." Her smile held affectionate amusement. "So

I've been managing things for him pretty much since Naomi

dumped me in his lap. Some people just aren't cut out for

dealing with day-to-day things."

Funny, how people like that always seemed to find

someone else to manage all those tedious little details for

them, Luke thought cynically. On the other hand, from what

little he'd seen of his almost father-in-law, he wouldn't be at

all surprised if the man needed help tying his shoelaces.

Cat's description of him as an absentminded professor

seemed pretty accurate.

"What about Susan?" he asked. "Can't she manage things

for him?"

Until today, he'd thought Susan was her mother. Maybe

he should have asked Devon for a guidebook to her family

relations.

"Susan is an artist," Cat said, as if that explained

everything. When Luke arched one brow in silent question,

she expanded. "She throws pots."

"At anyone in particular?" Luke asked, raising both

brows.

Cat laughed and shook her head. "She's a potter. She

makes vases and urns and stuff." Her hands shaped vague

curves as if to indicate the wide variety of pottery Susan

produced. "She's actually pretty well-known. People collect

her stuff, and she's got a couple of pieces in museums

somewhere. She's really very talented."

"So you manage things for Susan, too," Luke guessed.

"Well, not her business stuff. She works through a gallery

for that. But she's prone to forget to cash her checks and

return important phone calls. She and Larry are perfect for

each other in some ways. They're both very creative, but,

unfortunately, they're both prone to forget little things like

eating and picking up the mail and doing laundry."

"Creative? I thought Larry taught anthropology at

UCLA."

"Archeology," Cat corrected. "That's what he does for a

living, and I guess he's pretty good at it. His students like

him, anyway." She grinned suddenly. "Probably because

he's an easy grader. Larry thinks bad grades are

discouraging."

"I always thought so," Luke said dryly and laughed.

"Me, too." She sat back down on the sofa, and sank into

his chair, the brandy snifter cradled firmly in one hand.

"Larry earns a living teaching, but his love is inventing

things."

"Anything in particular?" Luke asked.

"All kinds of things, but I think the main goal is invent

something that works." Brow wrinkled, Cat thought about

that for a moment. "That's really his problem, I guess. He

has great ideas but the...um...execution leaves something

to be desired. My favorite was the garbage disposal worm

composter."

"The what?" somewhere in the back of his mind, he was

aware that this was shaping up to be one of stranger

afternoons of his life. He wasn't sure what protocol was

after being dumped by one's fiancée but was reasonably

certain it didn't include sitting down with the bearer of bad

tidings―who had already suggested he could marry her

instead―and letting her tell him about the family he was no

longer going to be a part of. Well, at least it was more

entertaining than brooding what he was going to do about

his grandfather's ultimatum now that Devon had run off

with her dairy farmer.