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“Mom.” Quint looked at Cat with earnest eyes, the same shade of gray as his father’s. “Can I hold one of the babies? I’d be extra careful.”
“I know you would, but you’ll have to ask Aunt Jessy.”
“Couldn’t I ask Uncle Ty instead? I think he’d let me.”
“Oh, you do, do you?” Cat struggled to hide a smile. Logan paused beside her. “Have we got everything out of the truck?” he asked. “What about the camera?”
“It’s in my pocket.” She patted the bulge it made.
Together the four of them trooped up the steps and paused by the front door to stomp the snow from their boots. Cat didn’t bother to caution her young son to be quiet in case the babies were sleeping. It wasn’t in her son’s nature to be loud and rambunctious.
“We’re here,” Cat announced unnecessarily when Logan closed the front door behind them.
“I’m in here,” Ty’s voice came from the living room that opened off the large entry hall.
Before all four managed to shed their heavy outer garments, hang them on the utilitarian coat rack, and deposit their wet snow boots in the large box placed by the front door specifically for that purpose, an angry wail shattered the stillness, originating from the living room as well.
Obeying, by now, her well-honed mother’s instincts, Cat moved quickly toward the sound. Sally Brogan followed right behind her. There sat Ty on the large leather sofa, one whimpering, blanket-wrapped infant nestled in the crook of his arm. The second, squawling baby was strapped in an infant seat on the cushion beside him.
With a none-too-deft left hand, Ty attempted to slip a pacifier into the open mouth of the crying baby. But one suckle and the baby spit it out with an even louder wail.
“Where’s Jessy?” Cat wasted little time in coming to the rescue of both her brother and the baby.
“In the kitchen warming their bottles.” His voice had a frazzled edge to it, a tone most new fathers would recognize. Then it took on a dry quality. “Meet your new niece and nephew.”
“Come to Aunty Cat.” With the strap unfastened, Cat lifted the angry, red-faced infant from the carrier. Instead of being soothed and comforted by the contact, the baby unleashed an even louder wail of rage. “My, but we have a temper.”
“You can say that again.” Ty willingly surrendered the other baby into Sally’s reaching arms. “She has made it plain from the first day that when she wants something, she wants it now.”
“It doesn’t work that way, sweetheart,” Cat murmured and cupped a hand over the back of the baby’s head, pressing a kiss on the downy soft cap of hair, the palest shade of gold.
Quint tugged at her pant leg. In response, Cat sank onto the sofa’s leather cushion to give him a closer look at the baby. “Meet your cousin Laura, Quint.”
“Why’s she crying?” he wanted to know.
“Because she’s hungry.”
Quint thought about that a minute, then stated, “She’s awfully loud.”
“She certainly is,” Sally Brogan agreed. “But not this little guy.” Gently she steered the baby’s flailing fist closer to its mouth, allowing him to gnaw on it between hungry whimpers. “Just look at all the hair you’ve got.” She stroked a finger over his thick shock of hair, as dark as his sister’s was fair. “What did you name him again?”
“Chase Benteen Calder the Third,” Ty replied. “And the demanding one is Laura Marie Calder.”
“Chase and Laura,” Sally repeated in approval as Jessy entered the living room, carrying the bottles of warmed formula.
Despite the warm light of motherhood in her eyes, Jessy had the telltale weary and harried look of a new mother. She offered only token resistance when the two women insisted on feeding the pair. She sat down next to Ty and watched, not quite able to completely relax.
Sally glanced up from the nursing baby in her arms and looked around. “Where’s Chase?”
“He’s in the kitchen, adding the finishing touches to dinner,” Jessy answered, then added with a hint of guilt, “He keeps saying that he doesn’t mind, that it reminds him of his bachelor days when he did a lot of his own cooking.”
Cat sent Jessy a questioning glance. “Where’s Audrey?” Audrey Simpson had taken over much of the housekeeping and cooking duties from Ruth Haskell years ago.
“Cat, I’m sorry,” Ty said with quick regret. “In all the confusion of bringing the twins home, I forgot to let you know that Bob Simpson was rushed to the hospital in Miles City yesterday morning. He’s suffered a stroke.”
Cat breathed in sharply then murmured, “How bad is it?”
“Severe. He can’t talk, and the doctors are still trying to determine the extent of his paralysis.”
