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The front door opened and the familiar sight of her father filled the doorway, all big and broad-shouldered. Safety. And unconditional love.
Her eyes burned and she hated that. She was just tired.
“Hey, Pop,” she called, relieved that her voice didn’t crack.
“Hey, Kitty-Cat,” he called back. “Everything okay?”
No. It wasn’t. “Of course.”
Harlan wasn’t fooled. He waited until she was within hugging distance and dragged her to him, kissing the top of her head, as was his way. “Kit.”
She swallowed hard, taking the comfort he so freely offered. “Hey, Pop.” Normally she would have pulled away by now, prickly both by nature and by personal experience. But tonight she needed a little more.
He rubbed her back in slow, big circles. “Rough day?”
“Just a long one.”
“Still working on the retirement home case?”
She breathed him in, the scent of Old Spice, wood shavings, and horses, with a little hint of cinnamon. Mom must be baking.
Betsy was always baking.
It was grounding, coming home. So little changed here. It was…safe.
She pulled away, patting Harlan’s cheek gently. “Thank you. I think I’m good now.”
“You’re always good, but I’m happy to hug you anytime.”
She smiled up at him. “Love you. I should say it more often.” Because even when a man lived to be eighty-five like Frankie Flynn or eighty-nine like Benny Dreyfus, life could still be too short.
His eyes softened. “Love you, too, Kitty-Cat. Come on in. It’s cold out here.”
She let him draw her into the house, drawing in another deep breath. “What’s Mom making?”
“Cookies for the new girls.” His eyes twinkled, his lips curving up in a smile. “They’re having a bedtime snack. Come on.”
The kitchen was a beehive of activity, and Betsy was in her element. There were cookies in the oven, cookies cooling on racks, and cookies on the table—surrounded by three smiling teenage girls. Jane and Janey—Tiffany and Emma—were busily decorating cookies with Rita.
“Kit!” Rita exclaimed. “We didn’t know you were coming.”
“I didn’t know I was, either,” Kit said, and Snickerdoodle jumped to her feet and ran over, too polite to jump but clearly wanting some love. Kit knelt to hug her dog, scrunching her face when Snick licked her cheek. “Gross, Snick.” She rose and examined the table. “Nice job, ladies. They look almost too good to eat. Hey, Mom.” She wrapped Betsy in a hug, smiling when Betsy held her a little too hard, a little too long.
“We’ve missed you,” Betsy said. “It’s been too long.”
Kit laughed. “It’s been one day. I just saw you last night at Mateo’s. And the day before that at Sunday dinner.” She looked at the oven hopefully. “Is there any dinner left? I’ve been running ragged since four this morning.”
Betsy tutted. “You sit and I’ll make you a plate.”
Kit settled in and studied the new girls. “You two are looking better.”
Tiffany, the leader, nodded cautiously. “It’s been wild. Mr. and Mrs. McK have been really good to us.”
“They’re good to everyone,” Rita said loyally.
“It’s nice to have a comfy bed again,” Emma said softly. “Thank you, Detective.”
Kit smiled at her. “I didn’t do a thing, Emma. You are Emma, right? Or should I call you Janey?”
