yesterday.
“Where’s Uncle Rafe?”
“Still sleeping. We’ll be real quiet until he wakes up, okay?” She shot a quick look at Aaron. His cheeks were a healthy pink and his eyes bright. There was no sign of his tears from the night before.
“What’re we going to do today?”
“Well…” A good question. “Uncle Rafe is going to work. And we’re going to—” she hesitated “—build a snowman and maybe bake cookies?” She poured two small glasses of orange juice and set them carefully on opposite ends of the table. She was learning: Large glasses made large spills, and only a masochist would allow the two boys to sit next to each other.
The twins were halfway through their eggs and Zoe was gulping coffee when she heard a knock on the back door.
“Anybody home?”
Before Zoe could answer, a woman was stomping the snow off her boots in the laundry room and wandering through to the kitchen. “Hi there. You must be Zoe. And these are the twins?”
Zoe swallowed a mouthful of coffee fast. The blonde was tall and perhaps in her early thirties. Beneath a down jacket, a mauve cashmere sweater and navy slacks accented a lush figure. Her hair was a long swath of pure honey, and her eyes were a clear dark brown with lashes a normal woman would have killed for.
Offhand, the only thing Zoe wasn’t prepared for this early in the morning was a meeting with the owner of the black silk panties. In the meantime, the woman was smiling at her, friendly fashion. And in another meantime, the twins seemed to have completely disappeared—or at least slid instantly off their chairs and hidden under the kitchen table at the first sign of a stranger. “Come on out of there,” Zoe hissed at the twins, and smiled at the blonde. “Yes, I’m Zoe Anderson. And you’re…?”
“Sarah Robertson. A friend of Rafe’s. I brought over a sled for the kids.”
Both kids’ heads popped up from under the table, but neither ventured any farther. “That was nice of you,” Zoe said cheerfully, and motioned them up with frantic hand movements behind her back. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“Sure. Rafe up yet?” Sarah settled easily in a chair at the table as if she belonged there.
“Not quite.”
“I figured you’d all be here by yesterday, but I never had a chance to call. I work with Rafe,” she explained. “And I don’t live all that far from here, so I kept an eye on the place while he was gone. He didn’t tell me all the details, but I have a little idea what you two have had to take on.” She shook her head sympathetically. “You could have knocked me over with a feather when he called from Detroit and said he was coming back with…” She cast a tactful eye toward the twins.
“Yes.” Zoe set a mug in front of her.
“If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. I come from a family of nine, so I’ve been around kids all my life.” She bent down to peek under the table. “Hi, boys,” she said casually, and then straightened, winking at Zoe. “I brought them something else. There are two packages wrapped in yellow sitting on the washing machine. For when they get around to deciding I’m not such a terrifying stranger.”
The twins decided that in three seconds flat. While with blissful grins they unwrapped their shiny new action figures Zoe analyzed everything about Rafe’s lady that she could conceivably analyze in the space of a few minutes.
Sarah wasn’t exactly a beauty, but her smile was darn near breathtaking, and her voice had vibrations that Zoe figured a man would pant for. That Rafe would pant for. She radiated an easy confidence; Zoe figured Rafe would like that, too.
Zoe searched harder for a fault, and found only maturity, a subtle sense of humor and a warmth that was completely natural. On top of that, Sarah obviously liked kids—and the kids were warming up to her as though they’d just discovered candy.
She was a little top-heavy, but altogether, if Zoe had had
“Where’s Uncle Rafe?”
“Still sleeping. We’ll be real quiet until he wakes up, okay?” She shot a quick look at Aaron. His cheeks were a healthy pink and his eyes bright. There was no sign of his tears from the night before.
“What’re we going to do today?”
“Well…” A good question. “Uncle Rafe is going to work. And we’re going to—” she hesitated “—build a snowman and maybe bake cookies?” She poured two small glasses of orange juice and set them carefully on opposite ends of the table. She was learning: Large glasses made large spills, and only a masochist would allow the two boys to sit next to each other.
The twins were halfway through their eggs and Zoe was gulping coffee when she heard a knock on the back door.
“Anybody home?”
Before Zoe could answer, a woman was stomping the snow off her boots in the laundry room and wandering through to the kitchen. “Hi there. You must be Zoe. And these are the twins?”
Zoe swallowed a mouthful of coffee fast. The blonde was tall and perhaps in her early thirties. Beneath a down jacket, a mauve cashmere sweater and navy slacks accented a lush figure. Her hair was a long swath of pure honey, and her eyes were a clear dark brown with lashes a normal woman would have killed for.
Offhand, the only thing Zoe wasn’t prepared for this early in the morning was a meeting with the owner of the black silk panties. In the meantime, the woman was smiling at her, friendly fashion. And in another meantime, the twins seemed to have completely disappeared—or at least slid instantly off their chairs and hidden under the kitchen table at the first sign of a stranger. “Come on out of there,” Zoe hissed at the twins, and smiled at the blonde. “Yes, I’m Zoe Anderson. And you’re…?”
“Sarah Robertson. A friend of Rafe’s. I brought over a sled for the kids.”
Both kids’ heads popped up from under the table, but neither ventured any farther. “That was nice of you,” Zoe said cheerfully, and motioned them up with frantic hand movements behind her back. “Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“Sure. Rafe up yet?” Sarah settled easily in a chair at the table as if she belonged there.
“Not quite.”
“I figured you’d all be here by yesterday, but I never had a chance to call. I work with Rafe,” she explained. “And I don’t live all that far from here, so I kept an eye on the place while he was gone. He didn’t tell me all the details, but I have a little idea what you two have had to take on.” She shook her head sympathetically. “You could have knocked me over with a feather when he called from Detroit and said he was coming back with…” She cast a tactful eye toward the twins.
“Yes.” Zoe set a mug in front of her.
“If there’s anything I can do to help, let me know. I come from a family of nine, so I’ve been around kids all my life.” She bent down to peek under the table. “Hi, boys,” she said casually, and then straightened, winking at Zoe. “I brought them something else. There are two packages wrapped in yellow sitting on the washing machine. For when they get around to deciding I’m not such a terrifying stranger.”
The twins decided that in three seconds flat. While with blissful grins they unwrapped their shiny new action figures Zoe analyzed everything about Rafe’s lady that she could conceivably analyze in the space of a few minutes.
Sarah wasn’t exactly a beauty, but her smile was darn near breathtaking, and her voice had vibrations that Zoe figured a man would pant for. That Rafe would pant for. She radiated an easy confidence; Zoe figured Rafe would like that, too.
Zoe searched harder for a fault, and found only maturity, a subtle sense of humor and a warmth that was completely natural. On top of that, Sarah obviously liked kids—and the kids were warming up to her as though they’d just discovered candy.
She was a little top-heavy, but altogether, if Zoe had had
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