Two sets of blue eyes narrowed on me.
I grabbed the bowl of peas. The pile wouldn’t shell itself by magic, and it was just as good an excuse as any to avoid their questioning looks. “All this gasbagging isn’t getting dinner cooked.” I pointed at the oven. “Better not forget about the ham.”
“Oh!” Mim cried. “My ham!” She practically leaped for the oven and was brushing a last lick of honey on her prized creation when a knock hit the front door. “What in the…” Her gaze flicked over her shoulder.
“I’ll get it.” Waving her back to her ham, I pushed off the stool and grabbed the dish towel to wipe my hands. “It’s probably another backpacker looking for work.”
It wasn’t.
Matilda bounced on the doormat, her excited breaths puffing misty clouds into the night air. Her flip-flops and the sparkly bomber jacket pulled over her two-piece swimsuit couldn’t be keeping her warm. It was freezing out. She adjusted her goggles and blinked up at me.
Erin bit back a sheepish smile. “Mind if Til has a swim in your tub?”
I crouched in front of Matilda. “It’s your bath time, huh?”
“Yeah!” Still bouncing, she peered around me, itching to run inside.
“Hold it, missy.” Erin pointed to the spot next to the front door. “Flip-flops off.”
Matilda scrambled to kick off her shoes. “Where go?”
“Up the stairs and—”
Matilda bolted.
“There’s no waiting for that one, is there?” I laughed.
Erin grimaced. “I couldn’t even get her to pop on her sweats. She was too excited.”
“At least she remembered her goggles.”
“They haven’t exactly been an optional accessory for bath time since she started swimming lessons.”
“You might have a future Olympian on your hands.” I grinned. “Feel free to come on up to the main house for training anytime she wants to use the tub.”
“Cal… I can’t… This is your place…”
Erin’s eyes lingered too long on the stairs. Technically, I suppose it was my place now, but this had been Lila’s place for a long time, too. That was what was bothering her. I didn’t know if Erin was ready to wander into the room at the end of the hallway just yet… or if she wanted to talk about it.
I nudged my shoulder into hers. “You know where the key is for the back door if you change your mind.”
“You should probably stop hiding it under the pot of mint,” she muttered, slipping off her sneakers and rearranging Matilda’s flip-flops into a neat line with the other shoes by the door.
“Mummy!” Matilda’s face poked out from the top of the stairs.
“I’m coming!” Erin called. “Hold your horses!”
“No hold!”
Mim’s voice shrieked from the kitchen, “Erin!”
Oh no.
My mother flew out in a flap of arms, and she knocked me out of the way to lock Erin in a hug, tears already streaming down her cheeks.
I cleared my throat.
Mim shot daggers at me but refused to let go of my friend. “You can quit that, Callan Joel Wolcott. I’m greetin’ my adopted fourth child,” she said. “Erin doesn’t mind me givin’ her a cuddle.”
