Make-Believe Mum. Elaine Grant

to claim their stools from the assortment scattered around the large island. A copper hood encased in a brick wall covered a gourmet cooktop. Two ovens were set into the adjacent wall, with a microwave built in nearby. Michele opened what looked like a double-doored pantry, but turned out to be a restaurant-quality refrigerator with doors custom-made to match the kitchen cabinetry.

      This kitchen was designed for somebody who loved to cook, but from the few items in the refrigerator, it hadn’t been overused lately. Kaycee looked around the island at the faces staring at her. Were these children being ignored, like the house? She hoped she’d done right by helping send off the social worker. If they were being neglected, she’d never forgive herself.

      “Are you really going to be our mom now?” one of the twins asked eagerly.

      Kaycee hesitated. “I think you’d better ask your dad about that.”

      “Okay, I will,” he said with a decisive nod then tilted his head. “Can you bake cookies?”

      “I can,” Kaycee assured him. “Why?”

      “Just wondering,” he said innocently enough, but the look he gave his brother made Kaycee smile.

      “I’m at a disadvantage here,” Kaycee said to the two boys as she worked. “Y’ all know my name, but I don’t know yours. You look so much alike, I’m not sure I’ll be able to tell you apart.”

      “I’m Zach,” the talkative one piped up. “This is my brother Tyler. We’re twins. But I’ve got a scar right here where I fell when I was learning to walk.” He pointed to a tiny blemish on his chin.

      They were robust, cheerful, with curling dark hair and their father’s deep blue eyes. And identical other than Zach’s inconspicuous scar.

      “We’re five years old,” Tyler offered. “Both of us. ’ Cept Zach’s three minutes older than me. My daddy said so.”

      “And you’re Wendy.” Kaycee spoke to the quiet girl with straight blondish hair and somber brown eyes who nodded once then ducked her head.

      “She’s shy,” Michele explained. “She doesn’t like to talk. She likes to read.”

      “I see,” Kaycee said, smiling at the bashful girl. Wendy ignored her.

      Michele put turkey, ham, mustard, mayonnaise, peanut butter and jelly on the counter. Then Kaycee made sandwiches according to the instructions from the girls. Wendy slid a paper plate in front of her for each one. Michele then took it, dropped a handful of chips onto it and passed it along the counter for distribution with the timed precision of an assembly line worker.

      Jon came into the kitchen, looking and smelling much better than when he left. His dark hair was still damp from a shower, ridged with comb marks, and he wore clean jeans and a long-sleeved, thermal knit shirt that hugged his fit body like a glove.

      “Thanks for getting started,” he said with a grin. “And for helping me out.”

      “I’m not sure if I helped or made things worse in the long run. Mrs. Hawthorn won’t be happy when she learns the truth.”

      “Well, maybe we can keep her in the dark for the moment, if that’s okay with you.”

      “I don’t know. This worries me. We’re not playing a game. The ramifications could be serious.”

      “Far from a game. I just need some time.”

      Kaycee didn’t mind giving him time if it would help, but the thought of even a mock engagement didn’t set well with her at all. She’d been there, done the real thing in South Carolina. And then there was the question of the kids’ well-being. She wanted hard evidence that they were being cared for.

      “Mrs. Hawthorn mentioned a baby with a fever.”

      “Bo.” Jon put a gallon jug of milk on the table. “He’s almost three. Rachel and Samantha are upstairs with him. That woman was overreacting. Babies run a fever sometimes. If I thought for a minute it was serious, I’d have already taken him to the doctor. A little medicine, keep him quiet today. He’ll be fine tomorrow.”

      Seven children, Kaycee mused. She took in his broad shoulders, the chiseled planes of his well-muscled chest under the shirt, his easy smile and dark good looks. Yes, Kaycee could see the lure of making multiple babies with Jon Rider. He might talk like a mother hanging around the carpool line exchanging fever remedies, but he sure didn’t look like one.

      “Our mama’s gone,” Zach said. “Daddy takes care of us now.”

      “I guess you heard, she passed away last year.” Jon’s words were matter-of-fact, but Kaycee detected the underlying grief in his voice. The loss of their mother reflected in the children’s eyes as they watched their father.

      “I’m sorry,” Kaycee managed, not knowing what else to say. “You must be pretty self-sufficient,” she said to the children.

      “We can take care of ourselves, ’ cept that old Mrs. Hawthorn won’t believe us,” Michele said. “She can’t take us, can she, Daddy?”

      “Don’t worry about that. We’ll talk about it later.” Jon pointed to a cabinet beside the refrigerator and said to Kaycee, “Would you pour the milk? Plastic cups are up there.”

      Meanwhile, he parceled out the loaded paper plates to each child. He put a couple of plates on a tray along with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for Bo, plastic cups, Bo’s washed sipper cup and the partial jug of milk. “Wendy, run this upstairs. Tell Rachel I’ll be there in a few minutes to check on them.”

      “Yes, sir.” Wendy picked up the tray carefully and left.

      Kaycee made a sandwich for herself and a couple for Jon with the remaining meat and bread. What would they eat tomorrow, she wondered, noting the pitifully empty refrigerator.

      “No more milk,” Kaycee said to Jon. “How about water for us?”

      “Sure. Let’s go in the other room,” Jon suggested.

      They settled at a round table in an adjacent room. Quaint mullioned bay windows looked out over expansive grazing land running up the mountains. Jon sat back in his chair and exhaled a long sigh, contemplating Kaycee with a thoughtful expression.

      “So, you’re to be my new wife, are you? And not a minute too soon.”

      “Sorry, no mail-order bride here,” she replied. “Not my style. But I would like an explanation. I feel like I walked into the middle of a war zone.”

      “So do I,” Jon said. “Talk about being blindsided. But, thanks for what you did. My live-in housekeeper left without notice and I need to find a new one.”

      “No notice?” Kaycee said, between bites of her sandwich. “That’s not very professional.”

      Jon shrugged a shoulder. “It happens. Seven kids are more than most housekeepers bargain for. I called everybody I knew yesterday, but no luck. Even called an agency in Bozeman, but from the way the woman snorted, I doubt they’ll be sending anybody my way. With that heifer calving, I didn’t have a chance to look this morning. Then, that damned social worker…I guess I should have expected something like this sooner or later.”

      “Under the circumstances, I think I’m entitled to know why a social worker would be checking on the children. Are some of them stepchildren?” The twins’ eyes were a perfect match for the dark blue ones studying her now, but Michele and Wendy’s were chocolate-brown.

      “No, they’re all mine. After my wife died, I let the children visit their grandparents in San Francisco, and my lovely in-laws tried to keep them. Filed a custody suit.”

      “You’ve got to be kidding. Why would they do that?”

      “They think I’m not capable of raising the kids without Alison. They say I can’t take care of the little ones or give the girls a proper social life out here ‘in the wilderness,’