Daddy Next Door. Judy Christenberry

that she was occupied at the stove again.

      She turned around and put a plate of pancakes in front of him. Then she got him a knife and fork. “Butter and syrup are on the table.”

      “I didn’t mean— You didn’t have to cook for me!” he exclaimed, feeling embarrassed.

      “I was cooking for the girls, anyway. Eat them, don’t eat them. Your choice.”

      He immediately reached for the butter and syrup. “I won’t turn them down.”

      She was still at the stove and he realized she’d given him the pancakes she would’ve eaten. “Hey, let me cook those and you come eat.”

      “No, I’m fine. Don’t let those get cold.”

      He spread butter over his pancakes and added syrup. Then he took his first bite. “Wow, these are great, aren’t they, girls?”

      Three little heads bobbed up and down.

      “They just gave you a rave review, Jennifer, but their mouths were full. You couldn’t hear them,” he said, smiling at the kids.

      “I know. They already told me.” She dished up her pancakes and joined them at the table. “This is a special breakfast today.”

      “Ah, first breakfast since school got out?”

      “Nice try, but I know Missy told you I was their new mommy. Did you think I kidnapped them?”

      He smiled at her. She looked beautiful, dressed in Bermuda shorts and a knit shirt. “If all kidnappers looked like you, no victims would ever complain.”

      She glared at him.

      “Just teasing. No, I didn’t think you kidnapped them. I figured I’d find out eventually what was going on.”

      She took a bite of her pancakes and chewed slowly.

      Nick said nothing else, enjoying his pancakes and coffee and giving her time. He’d learned that silence was a greater prompter than any words he could say.

      Finally, she said, “I’m adopting the girls and right now I’m their foster mother. But soon I’ll be their real mother.”

      “And they really are sisters?”

      Missy giggled again, but it was Steffi who answered. “Yes, we’re all sisters, but we didn’t get to live together until yesterday.”

      “You didn’t?” He turned to Jennifer. “You mean, the system split them up, or did they move into different homes because they, uh, became available at different times?”

      “No, their parents…had an accident. Unfortunately no one foster home could take all three, so they split them up.”

      “That’s barbaric!”

      For the first time since he’d met the lovely Jennifer, she smiled warmly at him. “I thought so, too.”

      “So how did you find them?”

      She explained about the photographs for the Heart Gallery.

      “And you decided to adopt them at once?”

      “Sort of. I’ll explain later,” Jennifer said in a low voice that made him think of silk sheets and dark nights.

      “Uh, okay. These sure are good pancakes.”

      “I love ’em,” Missy said in agreement.

      Since she had syrup smeared over half her face, Nick believed her.

      “Thank you, Missy,” Jennifer said with a smile. “Have you finished?”

      Missy nodded.

      “How about you, Steffi, Annie?”

      “Yes, ma’am,” Steffi said. Like Missy, Annie just nodded.

      “Okay. I want you to go to the bathroom and wash your face and hands. No sticky parts, okay?”

      They nodded, their eyes big.

      “Then go to your bedroom. I laid out the clothes for you to put on. If you need help, call me,” she added with a warm smile.

      Nick thought any kid would want to receive that smile. It certainly worked on the three little girls. They ran out of the room to do as she’d told them.

      Again, Nick remained silent. He wasn’t sure she would still tell him about the girls.

      She looked up. “Do you need more coffee?”

      “Yeah, but let me serve you for a change.” He picked up her almost empty cup, as well as his own, and refilled them. Then he sat back down.

      “When I got ready to photograph the girls, I had some outfits for them to put on, just for fun. Annie was reluctant. When I reached out for her, I discovered she was covered in bruises. I was so upset, I scared her. She wouldn’t tell me how she got them. Finally Steffi told me the mean man at her house pinched her if she didn’t do as he said at once.”

      She swallowed convulsively. “You’ve seen Annie. Do you think she’s a discipline problem?”

      “No! How could— Hadn’t anyone seen the bruises?”

      “Apparently not. I demanded the welfare worker in charge of Annie come at once. She made it six hours later. She, too, was upset by what she saw, but she said she had nowhere else to put Annie. And the charges would have to be investigated.”

      “So they took her back to the same place?”

      “No. She came home with me.” She explained about her uncle and all he’d done.

      “Do you think you’ll be approved to adopt them?” he asked. When she glared at him, he added, “No offense, but I thought a single parent wouldn’t be— I mean, usually they look for a couple.”

      “I’ll be approved. My uncle told me they don’t turn down qualified applicants.”

      “I believe the girls will be fortunate if they get you for a mother, Jennifer. I didn’t mean any insult.”

      “I’m a little touchy. My mother— Never mind.”

      He sat there silently, waiting, hoping she would finish that sentence.

      Finally, she said, with a bitter laugh, “My mother thinks I’m ruining my life by adopting the girls.”

      “She isn’t happy to have three granddaughters?”

      Again that bitter laugh. “My mother? She isn’t interested in being a grandmother in the first place and certainly not a grandmother to children that didn’t have her exclusive blood.”

      “Ah, one of the blue bloods, is she?”

      “Yes, of course! She was born and bred in Highland Park,” Jennifer said, naming an exclusive neighborhood in Dallas, full of prestigious homes and wealthy owners.

      “I bet you were a debutante,” Nick guessed with a grin.

      “Yes. I had no choice. But after I graduated college, I refused to play that role any longer.”

      “Good for you. Did your mom withhold money to persuade you to change?”

      “She tried. I got a job and paid my own way.”

      “Well, you’ve certainly done well. These are nice digs.”

      “Yes, but I wouldn’t be here without my grandmother’s help.”

      “Good for her. And you’re a photographer?”

      “Yes. Not well known yet, but, hopefully, I will be.” She took a sip of coffee before she asked, “What do you do?”

      He paused, debating his answer. Which one of his careers did he choose? Remembering his agent’s stern warning, he chose the less interesting one. “I’m a teacher.”