Close to Home. Deborah Raney

some stuff at work.” That wasn’t a lie exactly. Aaron was at work.

      “How’s work going these days? I haven’t heard you say for a while.” Danae’s sweet shifting of the conversation only made Bree feel more guilty.

      “It’s good. We’ve been busy, so that’s always good. Job security and all that. We’ve had a couple of finicky clients to deal with. But there’s always that.” She was out of things to say, but they were all looking at her, waiting.

      After an awkward moment, Danae jumped up. “I’ll be right back. I’m going to check on Tyler.”

      “Would you make sure Sasha isn’t crying?” Corinne asked. “I forgot to bring the monitor.”

      “I have an old one we don’t use anymore,” Landyn offered. “I’ll bring it next time and we can just keep it here.”

      And they were off talking about babies and husbands again.

      Bree waited until they were deep in conversation before slipping away.

      She found Audrey in the kitchen. “I thought we were done in here. Can I help with something?”

      “Oh, no.” Audrey waved her away. “You go on and visit with the girls. I was just getting the kids something to drink. I’d rather they consume beverages with red food dye out on the lawn.”

      Bree laughed. “I can’t blame you there. Here, let me help.” She took the pitcher of what smelled like Hawaiian Punch from Audrey and filled little paper cups with cartoon characters on them. “Will Grant want something?”

      “He’ll want exactly what the kids are having. Just maybe in a bigger cup.” She set a giant plastic St. Louis Cardinals cup on the counter, and Bree filled that too.

      “Are they still down in the meadow?”

      “Grant has them corralled on the deck. Do you mind taking the drinks out?” Audrey handed Bree a roll of paper towels. “You’ll need these. I’ll be right behind you with cookies.”

      “I’ll let them know.” She tucked the roll of towels under one arm, set the cups in the shallow tray Audrey provided and carefully carried it to the back door. Link opened it from the outside just as she got there. “Thanks, bro.”

      “Do you need help?” Tim’s brother peered into the paper cups. “Who’s the big one for?”

      “Your dad. But there’s more in the fridge if you want some. And cookies, according to your mom.”

      He looked sheepish. “Already had a couple of those.”

      “Link Whitman! Shame on you.” She laughed. “I don’t suppose you’ll divulge their hiding place?”

      “I’m not crazy.” He grinned and opened the door wider while she passed.

      Huckleberry, the family’s chocolate Labrador, chose that moment to streak into the house at full speed.

      Bree let out a little scream, balancing the tray of drinks for all she was worth.

      Link grabbed the dog by the collar. “Huck! Come here, you crazy pooch!” He grabbed onto the panting dog with one hand and held open the door with a comical bow at the waist. “After you.”

      She gave Huckleberry the stink eye and blew out a sigh of relief. Link laughed, closing the door behind her.

      Grant had rounded up the troops and had them sitting in a semicircle on the floor of the deck. They smelled of sweat and grass and a hint of baby powder. She loved every one of them as if they were hers. She regretted so deeply that Tim had never laid eyes on his nephews or nieces—except for Sari, who’d been a baby when he left for Afghanistan.

      Pushing the maudlin thoughts away, Bree carried the tray over to the oldest Pennington girls and handed them cups. They looked up at her with sweet smiles. Their skin had turned golden in the Missouri sun, but that couldn’t hide the freckles sprinkled like sequins across each of their little noses.

      Grant took his cup and helped her distribute the rest of the juice.

      Within thirty seconds the first spill happened. One of Landyn’s twins. Bree still had trouble telling Grace and Emma apart. Laughing, she unfurled a few feet of paper toweling and knelt to sop up the mess.

      Grant picked up the little girl. “Don’t cry, Em. There’s more where that came from.” He set her down and poured her a refill from his own cup. “See? All better.”

      The two-year-old smiled up at him, tipping the cup to her lips—completely upside down. Juice went everywhere again, which sent the other kids into an uproar of giggles—and Emma into louder wails.

      Shaking with laughter—but silently, over Emma’s head—Bree spun off another length of toweling and dried off the little girl. And Grant’s shoes. Thank goodness the deck was already red-tinted wood. “I should have just let Huckleberry spill them all at once and get it over with.”

      Later, when the evening wound down, she found herself with Emma and Grace both on her lap, each toddler with an arm around Bree’s neck, echoing their cousins’ oohs and aahs as they all peered up into the summer sky, a full moon spotlighting the trail of a shooting star.

      “Did you see it, Miss Bree?” Sadie’s voice was full of wonder as she scooted over and tucked her hand in the crook of Bree’s arm. “Did you? I saw it!”

      “Me too. That was pretty cool, wasn’t it? Keep watching. Maybe we’ll see another one.” The cicadas started up their evening song, drowning out the rest of nature’s symphony.

      How could she ever give this up? How could she ever let this family go? And yet, if she didn’t, would she ever know the joy of having her own children, of knowing a love like she’d had with her Timothy? She couldn’t go on feeling this . . . stagnant in her own life.

      Sighing, she hugged the twins closer and squeezed her eyes shut to stave off the tears that threatened.

      Chapter 3

      3

      I really think you should check on her, Grant. She just didn’t sound quite right on the phone.” Audrey stood with hands on her hips, watching him fix the garage door opener. Correction: watching him try to fix the opener. But Grant knew his wife’s tone of voice all too well. She wouldn’t rest until he’d complied.

      “And you know it’s not like her to want to miss a Tuesday family night.”

      “I’ll go,” he said, on the verge of feeling nagged. “If I can get out of the blasted garage.”

      “I’d do it myself, but I’m racing to get the beds ready for tonight’s guests as it is.”

      “I said I’d go. Stupid piece of junk!” He kicked a nearby cardboard box for good measure and went for the toolbox. But first he stopped and put his hands on his wife’s shoulders and kissed her. “I didn’t mean to snap. It’s not you I’m mad at.” Although this was not a good time for her to come up with an errand for him.

      “I know. I’m just worried about your mother. I don’t know how much longer we can let her stay in that house by herself.”

      He looked at her. “As if we could pry her out of there with a crowbar if she didn’t want to be pried.”

      “I know. But how are you going to feel when she falls? Or runs off and gets herself lost? Or sets the house on fire?”

      “I don’t think it’s quite that bad.”

      “Not yet. But let’s don’t wait until it is, Grant. You’d never forgive yourself if there was a tragedy before we could make arrangements for her to move.”

      He shook his head. Audrey had known his mother for forty-plus years now. Surely she knew it wouldn’t be as easy as she made it sound. CeeCee had a stubborn streak as wide as the Mississippi and twice as deep.

      He