The weather had turned hot and muggy, as it often does during the Minnesota summer. The girls and I planned to spend the day outside by the pool. When I first started working for Stillwell, before Eric and I were married, this house had gone on the market and I was able to buy it for a steal. I was thrilled to have a pool, although it made me nervous when we first had children. It wasn't long before we invested in a gate lock with a security alarm, as well as a pool surface alarm. With the security enhancements, the pool had been the best investment I ever made. The girls and I often spent most of our time by the pool – at least when I wasn't working – which made it feel like we were on vacation all summer long.

Once I had gotten Rachael settled in her bouncy seat under an umbrella, I called the other girls over. "Let Mommy put your sunscreen on."

They came running right over.

"Cover your eyes," I told them as I sprayed the sunscreen on their little bodies. "Now you have to wait five minutes before you go in the pool." You would think I had just told them that Santa Claus got hit by a bus if you heard the way they lamented about the meager wait.

"Oh, you sillies. Let's dance a little before we get into the pool, okay?" I turned on Pandora, grabbed their hands and started dancing around like a crazy woman. I was glad that no one was around to see me acting like a fool for my girls.

However, that changed even before the sunscreen was dry.

"Mommy, there's a man at the Fletchers' house!" Aurora yelled and pointed through the fence.

"Ssshh, don't be rude, Rory," I scolded her.

But she had caught the man's attention, so I decided to walk over and introduce myself. "Hi, I'm Elisebeth," I said, extending my hand to my new neighbor. I made sure to enunciate my name because even Americans mispronounce it all the time. "E-lisa-beth." I suddenly realized that I had already taken off my swim cover-up and I was meeting my new British neighbor in my bathing suit. It wasn't a string bikini or anything, but I felt a little awkward since he was dressed in a crisp dress shirt, slacks and a jacket.

He didn't seem phased at all. He smiled as he shook my hand. "I'm Harold. Lovely to meet you." His smile was so disarming and his accent was so elegant, I almost forgot about the children at my feet.

"Oh, and this is Aurora – we call her Rory – and Grace. And over there in the bouncy seat is my little Rachael."

"Nice to meet you," he said. He knelt down and shook each of their small hands as they giggled. While he was on his knee, I notice his thick dark hair with a hint of curl at the ends. It was well-groomed, but I imagined that if he grew it out, he could wear it in a small sexy ponytail. Eric used to wear it like that.

"Well, I have to admit that Kelly told me you were moving in," I smiled.

"Kelly? Oh, yes the estate agent. She mentioned that you are an agent as well. I don't mean to be forward, but would you be able to tell me where I might find some furniture? It sounds silly, but I only have an inflatable mattress for now. I didn't want to move everything from England, so I planned to purchase some new items here."

"Oh, no, that's just fine," I laughed. "How about tomorrow? I mean, did you want me to come with you, or I could just recommend some good stores, or just point you in the right direction? I mean, I'd have to find a sitter for the girls, and -". I realized that I was babbling at that point, but thankfully, he just laughed.

"Well, I don't know this area, so having a guide would be great."

"Okay, I'll work it out," I said. "Do you need anything in the meantime?"

"No, I'll be grand, thank you. I've been eating out until I get my kitchen situated, so that works out just fine."

"Well, you're very welcome to come over for dinner tonight, if you'd like. Nothing fancy, just meatloaf."

"Meatloaf!!!" The girls yelled and danced around. They absolutely adored my mother's meatloaf recipe.

"Well, it sounds as if I have to try the meatloaf," Harold said. "What time should I come over?"

"How about 6:30?"

"I'll be there," he grinned. "But I have one more question. What is meatloaf?"

I laughed and asked, "Oh, they don't have meatloaf in England?"

He shook his head no.

"Well, it's ground beef mixed with onions and other spices and baked into a loaf shape. It's usually served with mashed potatoes. You do have potatoes in England, right?" I teased.

"Of course. It sounds great." He smiled again, and then quickly walked around to the other side of his house.

The girls and I returned to the pool and jumped in with a splash.

While the girls were napping, I started making my mom's famous meatloaf. I wondered if Harold would like it. He was certainly handsome, as Kelly had told me. He looked younger than I expected. I wondered if he was married or had a family. I doubted it because it seems they would have come with him for such an extensive assignment. I had loved the Fletchers, but it would be nice to have a younger person living next door.

Once the meatloaf was ready, I decided to make a strawberry-rhubarb crisp for dessert. The rhubarb in my garden was already growing like crazy, and strawberries were at their peak. After the girls woke up from their naps, they helped me set the table and then they decide to make pretty little place cards. "Mommy, how do you spelled Harold's name?"

"I think you should call him by his last name, lovey, but I guess I don't know what it is," I said, thinking. "Well, you can just write his first name. H-A-R-O-L-D."

"He's nice, Mommy. Maybe he can be our daddy," Aurora said. My face turned red at the presumption of my small daughter. What on earth would possess her to say that? Was she really missing a "daddy" in her life? My father spent a lot of time with my girls, partly because of his undying devotion to them, and partly to make up for Eric's absence in their life. It surprised me to learn that Aurora ever thought about having a "new" daddy.

"No, lovey, he's just coming for dinner and he'll be our neighbor for a few years," I corrected her, shaking off my embarrassment and hoping she wouldn't say something like that when he came for dinner.

Moments later, the doorbell rang. I wiped my hands on my apron and opened the door. There stood my new British neighbor, holding a small bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine.

"Oh, Harold, you really didn't have to bring anything," I gushed. "I should be bringing you a housewarming gift."

"Nonsense," he smiled. "You're being very gracious, hosting a stranger for dinner."

"Gracie, please carry these flowers to the kitchen," I said, handing them to my 2-year-old. She grinned at her chore and went running toward the kitchen. But she stumbled, scattering flowers all over the floor.

She burst into tears. "Mommy, I bwoke the fowers!"

Harold stepped in. "It's all right, luv. Let's pick them up together."

I sighed with relief while I went to set the food on the table. I was glad he wasn't offended by my daughter's clumsiness.

Once we'd all sat down, I remarked, "You're very good with children."

"Well, I have two of my own, although they're quite a bit older. The older one is going to start college here in the fall, and the other will be starting his twelfth grade year. I didn't tell you they were coming later in the summer, did I?"

I was quite surprised at this bit of news since Harold really didn't look very old. I had thought he couldn't be much older than me, and I was 28.

"No, but that's great! Where's the older one going to college?" I asked.

"The University of St. Thomas," he replied.

"Oh, that's a good school, I've heard," I commented. "And will the younger one be staying as well?"

"Yes," he answered. "He'll be attending Plainriver High School."

"Oh, by the way, what's your last name? I'd rather my children didn't call you by your first name."

"My surname?" He asked, and I nodded. "Styles," he said. "That's wonderful, raising your children with such good manners."

I smiled at the compliment. I turned to the girls and said, "You can call our guest Mr. Styles. Can you say that, Grace?"

She attempted his name, but she wasn't very good at l's and r's. He smiled graciously.

"I can say it, Mommy...Mr. Styles," Aurora announced proudly.

We all ate our fill of meatloaf, mashed potatoes, peas and raw baby carrots and ranch dip.

When I stood to start clearing the table, Harold stopped me. "Please allow me to help with the dishes."

"No, really," I said. "I can't ask you to do that."

"I insist," he said.

I instructed the girls to clear their places while I removed Rachael from her high chair. "Harold, I hope you don't mind, but I'm going to sit in the other room and nurse the baby for a bit."

"Not a problem," he confirmed.

I sat down with Rachael and marveled at Harold. A man who cleans up after dinner? Eric had never helped with dishes or other household chores. He was hardly around to do so anyway. I was finding it hard to remember why I had fallen in love with him in the first place.

Eric and I had met through a mutual friend. He was extremely good-looking, and I'll admit that's the reason I was first drawn to him. He was actually very funny and kind of a party animal, so we went out a lot. We went to dance clubs, karaoke nights, and we visited possibly every single bar in the twin cities. I fell in love with Eric's fun side, but it never really occurred to me to consider whether he had a family-oriented side. I mean, we talked about having kids and he never rejected the idea, so I just assumed, wrongly, that he wanted children. I also expected that he would be the fun-loving dad that took his kids to the circus and baseball games and on weekend campouts. I couldn't have been more wrong. As soon as Aurora came along, which was nine months, to the day, after our wedding day, he withdrew. I slowly and painfully began to realize that Eric only had an appetite for fun. He had no desire to take on the challenges of parenting and family life. Apparently, responsibility was a huge buzzkill for him. I discovered that much too late.

While Rachael suckled, I smiled to hear Harold bantering with my girls in the kitchen. I doubt they were much help to him, but they were probably enthralled to just watch him and listen to his accent.

I laid Rachael down on her blanket and went to find out how the clean up was going. To my surprise, the kitchen was sparkling. Harold was just hanging up the dish towel. "All right?" He asked.

I nodded with a huge smile. "Thank you so much! I don't often enjoy the privilege of having my kitchen cleaned after dinner."

"Well, you should. You're a great mum."

"Thank you, but how can you say that when you just met me?"

"Oh, I can tell. You have wonderful girls, so they must have a wonderful mum." He winked as he said it.

"Would you like some dessert?"

"That would be lovely," he accepted.

"I hope you like strawberry-rhubarb crisp," I told him.

"What's a crisp?" he asked.

I smiled at another unfamiliar phrase I had sprung on him. "It's fruit topped with brown sugar and oats and baked until the topping is crisp," I said, emphasizing the dessert's name. I scooped up some of the still-warm strawberry-rhubarb crisp, topped it with some ice cream and handed him a heaping bowl.

"If you keep feeding my like this, I will have to find a gym to stay in shape!" He remarked.

We sat and visited while munching on dessert. I discovered that Harold had been with Stepworth Technologies since he graduated from college in 1996. I mentally performed the math in my head, deciding that Harold was about 40 years old. Impossible. He didn't look a day over 30, but I guess some people just age well.

Calculating his age made me think twice about the possibility of any kind of relationship. NOT that I had thought about it very much, but when a handsome, well-to-do British gentleman moves in next door, anyone would at least consider the possibility, right? But there was quite an age gap, so I told myself to get out of that realm of thinking right away.

I also discovered that his wife of 15 years had died of cancer a few years back. "I'm so sorry to hear that, Harold. It must have been a tough time for you," I told him.

"Yes, it was. Thank you."

"I'm divorced," I blurted out. I had been wondering all evening whether I should bring up the topic, since it was kind of obvious that I had a few children but no husband in sight. I just wanted him to know, for some reason, that I wasn't just a woman who had a bunch of kids with different fathers.

"Oh, I'm sorry," he said.

"Don't be. The divorce isn't final, but it's much better without him," I assured him.

"Dad didn't love us," Aurora stated in a matter-of-fact way.

"Oh, honey, that's not true," I told her, stunned by her statement. I really thought she had gotten past this, but I guess she intuitively knew that Eric's heart wasn't in it.

"I'm sorry," I told Harold. I quickly changed the subject. "So, what time did you want to go furniture shopping tomorrow? My mom is coming to watch the girls."

"Shall we say 9:00?" He suggested.

"Sounds great. I'm glad you could come over for dinner," I told him.

"The pleasure was all mine. I can't remember when I've eaten a more delicious meal."

"Thank you. I'll see you in the morning," I said and locked the door for the night.

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Author's Note: These are my babies, but the photo was taken many years ago! (The oldest, on the right, is now 23! The middle one is 20, and sadly, my Joy, the one on the left, passed away at the age of 19. This is how I'd imagine Lise's little girls.