Her Second-Chance Family. Holly Jacobs

but she caught Willow’s shrug.

      “He seems okay for an old guy,” she admitted grudgingly. “And he’s been pretty decent to me, despite the fact I broke into his house.”

      “Not just you. You and someone else.”

      Willow hadn’t ever admitted anyone was with her. But her caseworker said that Sawyer had heard voices. Plural.

      Willow didn’t respond. Not that Audrey expected her to. She kept hoping Willow would confide in her, but she reminded herself that she couldn’t push. “Sawyer’s invited us to his place for a picnic on the Fourth.”

      “I was thinking about going down to the bay to watch fireworks with some friends.” Willow’s tone said more than her words. She didn’t want to spend the day at Sawyer’s. Or maybe she didn’t want to spend the day with Audrey and the kids.

      Or maybe she was a sixteen-year-old who simply wanted to spend time with friends.

      As much as Audrey worried about Willow’s friends, wondering if they were the kids Willow was protecting, she knew she had to trust her.

      Her job as guardian was to give Willow rules and guidelines, and then trust that she would act wisely. Well, as wisely as any sixteen-year-old ever acted. “I think we can manage both. I was planning on all of us driving down to the bayfront for the fireworks. We’re going over to Sawyer’s place around noon, so there will be plenty of time after.”

      She could almost feel the air shift around Willow’s shrug. “Guess you’ve made up your mind.”

      “You can meet up with your friends when we get downtown,” Audrey offered.

      For a moment she thought Willow was going to argue, but instead the girl simply said, “Okay.”

      “Who’re you meeting?” she asked as nonchalantly as she could manage.

      “Just some friends.”

      Audrey fought back her frustration. Patience, she reminded herself. Time and patience.

      “So we gotta go back there on Saturday?” Clinton asked from the backseat.

      “For a picnic. Sawyer said bring your swimsuits.”

      Bea started shrieking. Audrey glanced back and saw Clinton smile indulgently at Bea. And though Willow didn’t say anything, there was a hint of a smile on her face.

      Audrey had to admit she felt excited about the prospect of seeing Sawyer on Saturday. She tried to tell herself it was merely because the kids would have fun swimming, but she suspected she was lying to herself.

      * * *

      MAGGIE MAY WAS at Audrey’s front door promptly at seven-thirty the next morning. She had on the tie-dyed oven mitts Clinton and Bea had bought her last Christmas. Those mitts gripped a cake tin of cinnamon rolls, Maggie May’s specialty.

      “What’s the occasion?” Audrey asked as she let her in.

      “I woke up at five and couldn’t go back to sleep, so I decided to put my time to good use.” She walked into the kitchen as she had so many times over the years. “They talk about all kinds of age-related issues, but they don’t warn you about the sleep problems. I’m up before the crack of dawn each day, but if I sit for more than a minute during the day, I nod off. Getting old ain’t for the faint of heart,” she said with a chuckle as she pulled a trivet from the drawer and set the pan on it.

      She turned and looked at Audrey. “Have a roll before you go, and take one to your boss, too. That man looks as if a stiff breeze could blow him away.”

      Neither Mr. Lebowitz nor Maggie May had any family to mention so they both spent holidays with Audrey and the kids.

      There was a look in Maggie’s eyes that had Audrey wondering all over again... Mr. Lebowitz and Maggie?

      She had to admit there was some merit in the idea. She wondered when she could get them together again without seeming obvious.

      She laughed. She’d never managed to make a relationship work for herself, so why on earth did she imagine she could help other people hook up?

      “Mr. Lebowitz will be thrilled. No one makes a better cinnamon roll than you do,” she said.

      Maggie puffed up a bit. “Well, that’s sweet of you to say. Now where are the kids?”

      “Still in bed.”

      Maggie May shook her head. “That kind of sleep is wasted on the young. They don’t appreciate it. To be honest, a lot of things are wasted on the young. You all are always in such a hurry to make your mark and get to this or that. Sometimes you need to slow down and smell...”

      Audrey interrupted. “The cinnamon rolls.”

      Maggie chuckled and got out one of Audrey’s storage containers, popped a couple rolls in it and said, “Now see to it your boss eats one of these.”

      “I will,” Audrey promised.

      “Have a good day,” Maggie said. “I think the kids and I are going to go spend the day at the pool.”

      Audrey bought a membership to a local pool every summer. Bea especially loved the water. She was going to have a blast on Saturday.

      “Have a good day, Audrey,” Maggie said.

      “You, too.”

      “Oh, I will. I’ve got a new JoAnn Ross book. I plan to curl up under an umbrella and have at it.”

      Maggie was a bookworm. “Tell the kids I’ll call at lunch.”

      “I will. But we’ll be fine. Shoo.”

      It was a ten-minute drive from her home in Wesleyville to work in downtown Erie.

      Abe Lebowitz had opened his firm in a historic brick storefront on West Fifth Street. Audrey loved that from the office she could walk down to the dock or to Erie’s Perry Square, a two-block downtown park.

      Today, as she went inside, she took a moment to study the photos in the public reception room, pictures of homes Mr. Lebowitz had helped design or remodel. Someday Audrey hoped to have such a body of work behind her. Though she’d taken on a few projects that she ran point on and Mr. Lebotwitz simply supervised, the Greenhouse was the first project that she truly felt was her baby. It would be the first picture on her wall.

      When she’d graduated, she’d considered applying for a job at a bigger firm in a bigger city. But she knew it would take years before she’d have a chance to really get some hands-on work. And truly, the city of Erie was as close to a home as she could come.

      As an intern for Mr. Lebowitz’s one-man business, she’d had a chance to take more active roles in design and meeting with clients. That’s what convinced her that going to work for him was the right move. And she’d made a good choice. She was basically his girl Friday. She did a little bit of everything and felt she had more practical experience than a lot of architects her age.

      She glanced at the clock on her phone.

      Half an hour before clients—the Castellinis—came in.

      She had to get her day started.

      As if on cue, Mr. Lebowitz called out, “Audrey, is that you?”

      “No, Mr. Lebowitz. It’s someone else entirely.”

      “Cheeky girl,” he called, laughter tingeing his voice. “Come in here if you have a moment.”

      She left the reception room, headed past her office door and Mr. Lebowitz’s public office to the back room she called his “cave.” He was in a white button-down shirt that was open at the collar and had its sleeves rolled up. He smiled as she walked in.

      Audrey set the cinnamon bun in front of him and his smile broadened. “Maggie was baking this morning.”

      “She made this