Mark McCormick paused to swipe at his sweaty brow, leaning on the lawn mower a moment to view the expanse of sparkling ocean just beyond the cliff. It was a sight that never failed to ground him and make him smile. His eyes tracked a pair of seagulls swooping low over the splashing waves. He sighed, wishing he could be down there on the beach enjoying the beautiful day too. It was unusually hot, and while the cooling breeze off the ocean helped a little, it wasn't enough to keep him from wishing there weren't more shade in the yard.

"McCormick! Stop your daydreaming and get back to work!" Hardcastle's grumpy voice bellowed at him from across the expanse of lawn.

Mark grinned, approaching him. "Even Tonto needs a little break when mowing the back forty," he returned. "Besides, I've got to refuel the lawn mower. Anyway, what's the hurry?"

Hardcastle harrumphed. "There are lots of chores to do, and no time to lollygag! You know that Aunt Zora and Aunt May will be visiting in two days. I'd like you to finish as much of your chores as possible before they get here."

Mark's eyes grew distant. "I can't wait to see them. I wonder if Aunt Zora will make her apple cobbler."

"Yeah, you just like them to visit because they spoil you," Hardcastle retorted.

Mark shrugged. "Nothing wrong with that! It's not like YOU spoil me!"

Hardcastle fought a smile. "You don't have it so bad here! Anyway, I want things to look really nice when they arrive. That means you need to finish the lawn, trim the hedges, plant those two rose bushes, do the laundry –"

Mark sighed and ran a hand through his curly hair. "Yeah, yeah, my work is never done."

Hardcastle eyed him more closely, taking in his flushed cheeks. "Maybe you'd better take a break and get something to drink before you tackle the rest of the lawn," he relented gruffly. "You don't want to get overheated."

Mark smiled inwardly. "Aww, Judge, I didn't know you cared!" he teased, entering the main house along with Hardcastle and heading for the kitchen.

"I don't care!" Hardcastle growled unconvincingly. "I just don't wanna have to hire new help to take care of your chores if you keel over in the heat!"

"Uh huh," Mark agreed amiably. After draining some cold, refreshing water, he wandered into the den. "I have to pick up some fertilizer for the new rose bushes and need to use the truck. Were you planning on going out?"

"No, I'm just working on stuff around here for the next few hours," Hardcastle replied, grimacing at the bills spread out on the mahogany desk. "I think I'll –" He was interrupted by the jangling of the phone.

"Yeah, Hardcastle," he answered. "Oh, Aunt Zora! Mark and I were just talking about you. We're looking forward –" he stopped, then frowned. Concerned, Mark edged closer.

"Well, how bad is it? Oh, okay. No, I understand. Yeah, we'll be disappointed not to see you but … okay, we'll do that. In the meantime, you and Aunt May take care, okay? All right then, talk with you soon."

"What happened?" Mark asked anxiously. "Is everyone okay?"

"Yeah. Well, my cousin Fred was cleaning out their gutters and fell off the ladder. He broke his ankle, and Aunt Zora said she and Aunt May were going to stay home and take care of him. So they have to postpone their visit."

"Oh, sorry to hear that. I was really looking forward to seeing them." Mark cocked his head, his eyes sparkling mischievously. "Hmm, guess that means the pressure is off for some of those chores …"

Hardcastle gave him a pointed look. "Nice try, sport, but no. You still need to finish them. And I think –" this time he was interrupted by the ringing of the doorbell. Rising, Hardcastle muttered, "Wonder who that could be," and went to answer it, Mark trailing behind him.

The Judge opened the door to reveal a young man, about 35 years old, standing there. The visitor, casually dressed in chinos and a polo shirt, had smooth blond hair and a ready smile. "Hi, Mr. H!" he greeted the judge effusively.

While Mark stared, curious, Hardcastle drew in a breath and then grinned widely. "Matt! Great to see you! Come on in!" He clapped an arm around the young man's shoulder, drawing him inside. He led him to the den, and Mark followed, wondering who this guy was.

"How are you? What have you been up to? I haven't seen you since –" Hardcastle stopped abruptly, looking uncomfortable.

Matt nodded with an understanding smile. "Since my dad's funeral," he finished softly. "It's okay, Mr. H, that was five years ago. At least he and mom are together again."

"Five years already?" Hardcastle mused. "It seems like just yesterday …" He shook himself and continued, "Well, anyway, you look great. And you're old enough now, I think – call me Milt."

"Oh, I couldn't do that! I have so much respect for you and calling you Mr. H is just such a familiar way to address you, like I used to," Matt said in such a cloying way that Mark unconsciously rubbed his stomach, thinking, I may just lose my cookies …

Hardcastle, however, was beaming. "Alright then. I want to hear all about what's been happening over the past few years."

Mark cleared his throat meaningfully, and Hardcastle shot him a look, suddenly realizing he was there. "Oh, sorry, let me do the introductions. Mark, this is Matt Hollins, who was one of Tommy's best friends when they were kids. Matt, this is Mark McCormick. He … ah, helps me with projects and things around the estate."

Mark held out his hand. "Nice to meet you, Matt. So, you were friends with his son?"

Matt returned the handshake, but Mark noted that he let go almost immediately and surreptitiously wiped his hand on his pants. Frowning slightly, Mark sank onto the leather chair, eying him speculatively, content for the moment just to observe. For some reason his radar was on high alert.

Matt had turned back to the judge with a laugh. "I practically lived here, didn't I, Mr. H?"

Hardcastle gave a wistful smile. "Yeah, you and Tommy were thick as thieves for a while there." He stepped behind his desk and sat down, waving Matt to the sofa. "So tell me, what brings you here? I thought you were living on the East Coast now."

Matt nodded. "I am. I live in Miami. I'd originally gone to New York, but I missed the ocean. I work for an export company and am doing well. I've been overdue for some vacation time and didn't know how to spend the 10 days I have off. Then I thought it would be nice to come back to my old stomping grounds." He eyed the den, then looked back at Hardcastle. "This hasn't changed! For which I am very grateful …"

Hardcastle grinned broadly. "Well, it's good to see you. Say, where are you staying?"

Matt shrugged casually, but Mark, so attuned to playacting by others, felt it was contrived. "Oh, I'll just find a local hotel. Didn't make any reservations but figured I would be able to land somewhere with no problem. I just drove here from the airport."

"Well, you should stay here," Hardcastle offered immediately.

"Oh, no, I couldn't impose, sir," Matt demurred (half-heartedly, it seemed to Mark).

"Nonsense! No reason you should pay to stay in a hotel. There's plenty of room here. It will give us a chance to catch up, too."

"Well, if you're sure …"

Hardcastle clapped his hands, standing. "Then it's settled. Now, are you hungry? What am I saying? You were always hungry! You and Tommy could eat Nancy and I out of house and home …"

Matt stood as well. "Well, I wouldn't say no to one of your famous grilled cheese and tomato sandwiches!"

Hardcastle grinned. "Coming right up!" He glanced back at Mark. "Okay, McCormick, your break is over. Get back to work!" And with that he led Matt to the kitchen.

Mark sighed and pushed himself to his feet. Something felt off. He shook his head. That was silly, he only just met the guy. And if he'd been best friends with Hardcastle's son, he must be okay. Still … with another sigh, he headed outside.