Feeling the familiar tug on my hand, I stared down at the adorable five-year-old. Dressed in denim overalls and a white shirt like all of kindergarteners in her troupe, Kelly gazed up at me. She had big blue eyes and blond Shirley Temple curls.

"Kelly, I would like to meet your dad," I said, squeezing her hand. "Lead the way."

Guiding me down the aisle of the nearly filled-to-capacity auditorium, she chatted easily about her grade's act for the school show, a song and dance to "Old MacDonald." I knew volunteers weren't supposed to have favorites, but Kelly was special. Precocious with a penchant for asking questions ("Miss Theresa, where do you live?" "Miss Theresa, why do robins have a red chest?" "Miss Theresa, are you married?" "Miss Theresa, why do those white dogs have black spots?"). Her inquisitive spirit amused and intrigued me.

"Daddy, daddy," Kelly called, picking up speed. We stopped at the end seat, third row from the stage.

"Daddy, this is my Miss Theresa." She smiled so hard I thought the freckles on her cheeks would burst. "Miss Theresa, this is my daddy."

The man stood. Tall, with hair the color of golden wheat, dreamy blue eyes and dressed in jeans emphasizing his hard, sturdy legs. I had often noticed him by the yard gate when I left the school each day. Since I leave a half hour before the children, I never saw which child belonged to him. Not only was he attractive, I admired a man who handled “pick up duty” for his wife.

Seeing him now, it never occurred to me that he waited for Kelly whose mother had been killed by a drunk driver three years earlier.

"Will Keegan," he said cordially and extended his hand.

Introducing myself I shook his hand. It was firm and sincere, the type of handshake you want to do business with.

"Kelly talks about you all the time," he said.

"She's a sweet child."

"Kelly, your group is up," Nancy Lowry called. Nancy was the Event Coordinator who had put the annual show together.

"Miss Theresa, will you please sit with my daddy and keep him company?"

"The seat next to me is empty," he offered.

"Sure." I ruffled Kelly's blond hair. The last thing I wanted to do was take the warm-hearted smile off her face.

"You'll be great, Sweetheart." Will said, scooping the tiny figure up in his arms. He hugged her tight.

Kelly laughed, her famous squeaky Woody Woodpecker giggle. One final, sloppy, wet kiss to his cheek before the tiny farmer skipped to join the nine other children in her group.

"Kelly tells me you volunteer here, but teach at another school," he said as we sat down.

"Art History at St. Mary’s College."

He gave me a short acknowledging nod and a pause. "I own a construction company," he said, almost as an afterthought.

"That's an exciting business," I replied, attempting to initiate polite conversation. He nodded his head and fiddled with his camcorder.

Silence hung heavy in the air. Will Keegan didn’t seem as if he wanted conversation, friendly or otherwise. Some people weren't comfortable making small talk with those they didn't know and didn't expect to see again.

As the show started, he put the camcorder up to his eye where it stayed. The kindergarten class was third and Kelly was a natural, singing at the top of her lungs and shaking every movable part of her lithe body. When finished, she ran to her father. Will put aside the camcorder and wrapped her in his arms, lavishing cheers and admiration.

The tender expression on his chiseled features swelled my heart. To me, there was nothing more touching than a man who candidly displayed affection toward his child. Sliding to the edge, I intended to relinquish my seat to Kelly.

"Miss Theresa, can I sit with you?" She climbed onto my lap without waiting for an answer. "Daddy can keep recording."

It was a reasonable request. While Will recorded, Kelly and I had a fun time, singing, clapping and swaying to the music. When the show was over, she turned to me.

"Daddy and me are going for burgers and ice cream," she announced sporting her million-dollar grin. "Come with us?"

I hesitated. I hated disappointing Kelly, but her father and I had barely spoken. I was sure he wanted to enjoy this time alone with his daughter.

"Oh, Kelly, I don't –"

Her upturned lips drooped. Wide, blue eyes, stared into her father's. "Daddy, I'm sorry. I guess I didn’t ask her the way you told me to."

"Honey, you asked just right." Will looked at me, his expression a painful grimace. "You must think I'm terrible using my daughter to ask you questions about yourself in class, then invite you out. I see you leave school every day and don't know how to approach you. I'm not much of a talker, and I haven't dated in twelve years." He took one of Kelly's hands in his. "I figured you couldn't say no to this little sweetheart."

My eyes moved from his cheeks, red with embarrassment to the crestfallen pout of a little girl. "You're right." I cradled Kelly closer to me, and gazed into Will's eyes. "I can't say no to an invitation…from either of you."