Page 152 of Summer Holiday Lifeline

“It won’t be for long. Steven wanted everything to be perfect.” Lucky took the car keys from Myles. “Go on inside. I’ll park it for you.”

“I don’t know why he’s insisted on being so secretive.”

“Because he wants you to feel like it’s your home, so he wants it to be perfect.”

“Nothing’s perfect.”

“Give him this. I’ve never seen him so excited about anything.”

“Oh, I’ll do whatever he wants me to do. Don’t worry about that.”

“You just want to see him.”

“It’s been⁠—”

“Four days. He was at your house on Christmas day.”

“Four days,” Myles moaned.

“Go inside, you big baby.”

He did slowly haul himself up the B and B stairs, but he couldn’t help the glance over his shoulder at the bookshop. Not that he expected to see Steven, but still. Only Emma peeked out of the domed cat bed sitting on the porch swing.

As if she’d been watching for him, she jumped down, stretched, and sauntered into the shop, the door obligingly opening for her on its own.

The Oaks’ door also eased open as Myles crossed her porch, letting him into the familiar, if overly fussy, main room. “Who even owns that cat?” he asked no one in particular.

“What cat?” Tiffany asked from her spot in the window seat.

“Emma.”

“Oh.” She waved a hand. “No one. More like she owns all of us.”

“Do you live here now?” Myles asked with a grin, heading over for a hug when she got to her feet.

She shrugged, sat back down, and arranged her skirt and shawl around herself. “It’s a convenient get-away. Close enough to home I can see the family, far enough away from them I don’t have to be distracted. It works because Kyle—my husband—is the real caregiver of the family, and loves being a homeschooling dad.”

“You homeschool?

“We do. Well. Mostly he does, yes. Why?”

“I’m thinking of doing the same. Jet’s only got a year of high school left, and he’s already finished four of the seven credits he needs to graduate. Can’t really see the point of enrolling him in a school for only a few months.”

“So looks like you’re on track, then.”

“It’s more Shelly. I don’t know where to start. We’ve been practicing her reading, but the extent of her maths is figuring out the tip for the delivery guys at dinnertime.”

“Here.” Tiffany fished a small notebook out of her pile, wrote something in it, then tore out the sheet to hand to him. “That’s Kyle’s email. I’ll call him tonight and let him know to look for something from you. You can ask him all your questions. Maybe get the kids together a few times a month to hang out. That sort of thing. He’ll help you.”

“Thank you.”

“It’s the least I can do. After all, I’ve had so many wonderful firsthand observations over the summer. Moody teens. Precocious six-year-old. A miniscule dog who thinks he’s a rottweiler. Really, truly, hysterically bad cooking.” She grinned. “You and your family have been a treasure trove of inspiration.”

Myles snorted. “Glad we could help.”

She smiled a cheshire cat smile, then turned back to her work.

Pocketing the paper, Myles wandered towards the kitchen pass-through window. The dining room was empty since it was well after lunch and dinner service wouldn’t start for another hour or more. Lucky appeared through the door leading to the private area of the house, car keys in hand.