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“Oh, well, thanks, but I’ll figure something out.”
“Hold on.”
Amused at both of them, he took her arm before she could wrench open the door to her van. Besides, now that he actually thought about it, he liked the idea.
“You don’t think I can handle three boys? I was a boy. I was one of three boys.”
“I know, but—”
“What time do you have to leave for the thing?”
“I should be here around five to help set up. We usually start around five thirty. We generally go until about seven, then it takes a while to close up and—”
“So about five to eight. No problem.”
“Yes, but they need to be fed and bathed and—”
“I’ll pick up dinner at Vesta, come down at five.”
“Well . . .”
“It’ll be fun. I like your kids.”
“God, I’m going to be late.”
“So go. See you at five.”
“I just don’t know if—Okay,” she decided. “But not pizza. If you get spaghetti and meatballs, they can split it three ways. And a salad. Just tell whoever’s taking the order it’s for my boys. They all know what they like. I’ll make sure they have their homework done,” she added as she climbed into the van.
“If something comes up—”
“Clare, I’ll be by at five. Go pick up your kids.”
“Right. Thanks.”
It would be fun, he thought again as she drove off. And spaghetti and meatballs sounded just about perfect.
“HOW COME GRANDDAD can’t come play with us?” Liam sulked over his chapter book.
“I told you, he’s got a meeting with his photography group. Now answer the question. What did Mike find when he climbed the tree?”
“A stupid bird’s nest.”
“Write it down.”
He slid his eyes up with the little smirk Clare found both endearing and infuriating, depending on her mood. “I don’t know how to spell ‘stupid.’ ”
“L-I-A-M,” Harry sang out.
“Mom! Harry called me stupid.”
“Harry, knock it off. Liam, write down the answer. Murphy, how many times do I have to tell you not to throw that ball in the house? Take it outside.”
“I don’t wanna go outside. Can I watch TV?”
“Yes, please. Go do that.”
“I wanna watch TV.”
Me, too, she thought when she glanced at Liam. “Then finish your homework.”
“I hate homework.”
“You and me both, pal. Harry—”
“I finished mine. See?”
“Great. Let’s go over your words for your spelling test tomorrow.”
“I know the words.”
It was probably true. Spelling had always been a breeze for Harry.
“We’ll go over them anyway, then yours, Liam, when you’re done with your book.”
“How come Murphy gets to watch TV?” Liam managed to look long-suffering and outraged at the same time. “How come he doesn’t have homework? It’s not fair.”
“He had homework. He finished.”
“Just stupid flash cards. Baby homework.”
“I’m not a baby!” Murphy’s furious protest rang from the living room. He had ears like a cat.
“He gets to do anything he wants. It’s not—”
“I don’t want to hear ‘it’s not fair.’ You know, Liam, the longer you sit here complaining, the longer it’s going to take. Then you won’t have any play or TV time.”
“I don’t want Beckett to watch us.”
“You like Beckett.”
“Maybe he’ll be mean. Maybe he’ll yell and lock us in our room.”
Clare folded her arms. “Has he ever been mean before?”
“No, but he could be.”
“If you want somebody to yell, keep stalling over that homework. You’ll hear somebody yell.” She grabbed Harry’s spelling list, began to call off the words.
After he’d finished, she scanned the list he’d written. “That’s an A-plus. Good job, Harry. Now scram.”
She sat, the better to focus her middle son. “That’s good, Liam. See here, though, you wrote a d instead of b.”
“How come they made them that way, so they get mixed up?”
“That’s a good question, but it’s what erasers are for.” She got out his spelling list while he fixed it—grudgingly. “Get a fresh piece of paper.”
“I got more homework than anybody.”
He didn’t, but she didn’t have time for the lecture about stalling, scribbling, and staring into space. “Almost done.” He hunched over the paper when she gave him the words.
His penmanship was better than Harry’s, but the spelling? Not so much.
“Pretty good. You missed three, but see here, you wrote b instead of d. You know how you can remember? B’s for butt, and your butt’s in the back.”
It made him laugh, and she decided to end it on a high note. “We’ll go over it in the morning, one more time. Put your things away, and you can watch TV.”
She walked out with him. “No fighting,” she called out, and dashed upstairs to freshen up before the book club meeting.
She shoved the book and her notes in her purse, grabbed her hairbrush. And heard the doorbell.
Not only on time, but ten minutes early. She glanced at herself in the bedroom mirror. She could’ve used that ten minutes.
She rushed downstairs in time to hear Murphy ask, “Are you going to lock us in our room?”
“Are you guys planning to rob the bank?”
“Nuh-uh!”
“Then I won’t need to lock you up.” Beckett looked over, up. And smiled. “Spaghetti and meatballs, as ordered.”
“Thanks. You’re a lifesaver.” She took the bag, then felt a little clutch in her belly as she noted all three boys watched Beckett like they would a strange animal in the zoo.
“Let’s take this back so I can show you where everything is. They’ve finished their homework,” she began as they went back to the kitchen.
“They should eat by around six.” She got out plates as she spoke. “Don’t worry about the
bath, I’ll get them in the shower in the morning. Their pj’s are laid out, they like to get in them at least an hour before bedtime.”
“Men of leisure.”
“Exactly. I’ll be home before bedtime, that’s eight fifteen or so.”
“Got it. Clare, relax. Those child endangerment charges were dismissed.”
“Very funny. I’m actually more worried about you. They know the rules, but that doesn’t mean they won’t pull something. You’ve got my numbers. I can be home in five minutes if—”
“We’ll be fine. I won’t listen if they tell me to run with scissors.”
“Okay.” She let out a breath. “I’d better go.”
He walked back in with her, and once again the boys turned as one, stared. “I’ll be home by bedtime. Be good, and no snacks before dinner. Good luck,” she told Beckett.
He closed the door behind her, waited a beat. “All right, men, what’s the plan?”
As oldest, Harry took point. “We want cookies.”
“Gotta say no to that one. Just got a direct order.”
“Told ya,” Liam muttered.
“We want to play PlayStation. Pop and Nan gave us PlayStation 3 for Christmas.”
“What games have you got?”
