if you’re okay here.”

Harley looked at the pale, wan faces of Brock’s twins. They were obviously exhausted. And cold. “Yes,” she said, wondering just what the story was here. Surely Brock should have mentioned that he had kids arriving tonight...

Surely he should have mentioned he had kids...

Surely at some point in the hiring process someone should have mentioned that he had kids...

The Sheriff reached into his pocket and gave her his card. “If there’s a problem, you’ve got my number, and the office number. Call me.”

Harley thanked him for his time and assistance, and then he was off and the front door closed again behind him, leaving her alone with the two kids in the hall.

For a moment they all just stood there and then Harley drew a deep breath, not at all sure what to say, but something needed to be said. “This is a surprise. Your... dad... didn’t mention you were coming.”

The twins exchanged glances. For a moment there was just silence. Then Mack spoke. “Dad didn’t know we were coming... now. He’s uh... going to be... surprised.”

Brock was going to be surprised?

Things were getting even more interesting. “So he didn’t expect you?” Harley asked,

Mack shook his head.

“Why not?”

The kids glanced at each other again. Molly made a face. “School doesn’t get out for the Christmas for another week.”

“Ten days, actually,” Mack muttered.

Harley’s eyebrows lifted. “And you go to school where?”

“New York.” Mack looked up at her from beneath his lashes. He had a mop of thick, dark hair and his dark brown eyes were exactly the same shade as his father’s. Definitely Brock’s boy. “It’s a boarding school.”

“Which we hate,” Molly said fiercely, shortly, shivering. She had dark shadows beneath her blue-gray eyes that made her freckles stand out even more. “So we’re home.”

Harley gazed down at the children, thinking they couldn’t be much older than ten or eleven. “And you got to Marietta from New York on your own?”

They nodded in unison.

“We took a train and then a bus.” Molly sounded proud, even though she was still shivering. “But now we’re broke.”

Harley still had a dozen more questions but realized they weren’t important now. The kids were freezing and had to be hungry and tired. “Grab your back packs. Show me your rooms,” she said, unable to imagine the kids in the two guest rooms on the second floor, rooms she kept clean and pristine with daily dusting but it was impossible to picture the kids in those rooms. They were handsome enough rooms, but totally impersonal.

Upstairs, Harley’s heart fell as Mack opened the first door on the right. “My room,” he said, swinging his back pack onto the full size bed with rustic headboard. The walls were recycled barn planks, just like her room and a red, taupe, and green Native American blanket covered the duvet. A framed antique flag hung on the wall and some old iron brands hung on another wall and those were the only decorative elements.

Harley had been in this room daily and it had never once crossed her mind that it belonged to a child. Where were the toys and posters and framed pictures? Where were the bright colors and fun pillows and stuffed animals?

“This looks so adult,” she said, trying to sound complimentary, even as she remembered the murals she’d painted in her own children’s rooms, and the colorful matching duvet covers and shams she’d sewn to match the murals. Each of her three had picked out his or her own theme: Ariel and Under the Sea, Peter Pan and Never-Never Land, The Cheshire Cat from Alice and Wonderland.

Molly smothered a yawn. “Dad doesn’t do baby-stuff.” She gestured toward the door.