"Hey!" David whipped chocolate and milk in the pot. "These are my men now. I figured they'd hang out with me, providing me with companionship as well as slave labor, when they're not in school."
"I couldn't ask you to—"
"We could stay with David," Gavin piped up. "That'd be okay."
"I don't—"
"Of course, it all depends." David spoke easily as he added sugar to the pot. "If they don't like PlayStation, the deal's off. I have my standards."
"I like PlayStation," Luke said.
"Actually, they have to love PlayStation."
"I do! I do!" They bounced in unison on the stool. "I love PlayStation."
"Stella, while they're finishing up here, why don't we get some of your things out of the car?"
"All right. We'll just be a minute. Parker—"
"Dog's fine," David said.
"Well. Be right back, then."
Roz waited until they were at the front door. "David's wonderful with kids."
"Anyone could see." She caught herself twisting the band of her watch, made herself stop. "It just feels like an imposition. I'd pay him, of course, but—"
"You'll work that out between you. I just wanted to say—from one mother to another—that you can
trust him to look after them, to entertain them, and to keep them— well, no, you can't trust him to keep them out of trouble. I'll say serious trouble, yes, but not the ordinary sort."
"He'd have to have superpowers for that."
"He practically grew up in this house. He's like my fourth son."
"It would be tremendously easy this way. I wouldn't have to haul them to a sitter." Yet another stranger, she thought.
"And you're not used to things being easy."
"No, I'm not." She heard squeals of laughter rolling out from the kitchen. "But I want my boys to be happy, and I guess that's the deciding vote right there."
"Wonderful sound, isn't it? I've missed it. Let's get your things."
"You have to give me the boundaries," Stella said as they went outside. "Where the boys can go, where they can't. They need chores and rules. They're used to having them at home. Back in Michigan."
"I'll give that some thought. Though David—despite the fact that I'm the boss of all of you—probably
has ideas on all that already. Cute dog, too, by the way." She hauled two suitcases out of the back of the SUV. "My dog died last year, and I haven't had the heart to get another. It's nice having a dog around. Clever name."
"Parker—for Peter Parker. That's—"
"Spider-Man. I did raise three boys of my own."
"Right." Stella grabbed another suitcase and a cardboard carton. She felt her muscles strain even as Roz carried her load with apparent ease.
"I meant to ask who else lives here, or what other staff you have."
"It's just David."
"Oh? He said something about being outnumbered by women before we got here."
"That's right. It would be David, and me, and the Harper Bride."
Roz carried the luggage inside and started up the steps with it. "She's our ghost."
"Your..."
"A house this old isn't haunted, it would be a damn shame, I'd think."
"I guess that's one way to look at it."
She decided Roz was amusing herself with a little local color for the new kid on the block. Ghosts would add to the family lore. So she dismissed it.
"You can have your run of the west wing. I think the rooms we've earmarked will suit best. I'm in the east wing, and David's rooms are off the kitchen. Everyone has plenty of privacy, which I've always
felt is vital to good relations."
"This is the most beautiful house I've ever seen."
"It is, isn't it?" Roz stopped a moment, looking out the windows that faced one of her gardens. "It can
be damp in the winter, and we're forever calling the plumber, the electrician, someone. But I love every inch of it. Some might think it's a waste for a woman on her own."
"It's yours. Your family home."
"Exactly. And it'll stay that way, whatever it takes. You're just down here. Each room opens to the terrace. I'll leave it to you to judge if you need to lock the one in the boys' room. I assumed they'd
want to share at this age, especially in a new place."
"Bull's-eye." Stella walked into the room behind Roz. "Oh, they'll love this. Lots of room, lots of light." She laid the carton and the suitcase on one of the twin beds. But antiques." She ran her fingers over the child-size chest of drawers. "I'm terrified."
"Furniture's meant to be used. And good pieces respected."
"Believe me, they'll get the word." Please, God, don't let them break anything.
"You're next door. The bath connects." Roz gestured, angled her head. "I thought, at least initially,
you'd want to be close."
"Perfect." She walked into the bath. The generous claw-foot tub stood on a marble platform in front of the terrace doors. Roman shades could be pulled down for privacy. The toilet sat in a tall cabinet built from yellow pine and had a chain pull—wouldn't the boys get a kick out of that!
Beside the pedestal sink was a brass towel warmer already draped with fluffy sea-green towels.
Through the connecting door, her room was washed with winter light. Rhizomes patterned the oak floor.
