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Meg offered up her smart-aleck smirk. “I could totally have had Panda if you hadn’t pulled your disappearing act. He was definitely coming on t
o me the night of your so-called rehearsal dinner.”
“Well … You did look hot that night,” Lucy agreed while Panda and Ted swapped glances that declared them both the most fortunate and the most put-upon of spouses.
“It’s weird,” Meg said. “We should so be married to each other’s husbands.”
This time all four of them shuddered.
“I’ll tell you what’s weird.” Bree came up next to them, Mike at her side, a sleeping baby tucked in the Snugli he wore as proudly as an athletic jersey. “The four of you. I’ve never seen such strange relationships. Mike, aren’t they all a little weird.”
“Now, Bree … Some people might say that about us.”
“You’re too good to be true.” Bree gave him a private smile that locked out the rest of the world.
Toby peeled away from his friends. “He’s not that good. He got into my M&M’s stash last night.”
Mike grinned, grabbed Toby around the neck, and gave his head a gentle knuckle rub without disturbing Toby’s baby brother. “You need to find a better hiding place, son.”
In the past three years, Toby had shot up ten inches, and girls had started calling the house, which drove Bree crazy. But Toby had his head screwed on remarkably straight for a fifteen-year-old, and Lucy wasn’t worried.
Between babies and blossoming careers, they’d experienced so many wonderful changes in their lives. But there had been difficult times, too. Lucy still grieved the loss of her grandfather Litchfield, and Bree had miscarried early in her first pregnancy. Fortunately, the joyous birth of Jonathan David Moody a little over a year later had eased the pain.
One of the changes that had most shocked everyone except Lucy had been Panda’s decision to hire more employees so he could go back to school for a counseling degree. He now took only the security jobs that kept him near home and devoted the rest of his time to the more important work of helping other wounded warriors get their lives back, something he discovered he had a talent for.
Lucy found that motherhood meshed well with her growing writing career. She was a natural storyteller with an inherent ability to make the lives of the kids she helped come alive. She’d just started her third book, this one focusing on the eighteen- and nineteen-year-olds who’d aged out of foster care and had no place to go. She’d also become the go-to authority on at-risk children, which made her a popular guest on television news and talk shows. At the same time, she continued to work one-on-one as a volunteer at a Chicago drop-in center so she didn’t lose touch with the work she loved the most.
Other than their family, the biggest project she and Panda had undertaken was the island summer camp they’d nearly finished building on the land where Panda had once had his brooding place. The camp would allow siblings who’d been separated in foster care to spend a few precious weeks together every summer. It would also serve as a retreat for troubled veterans and their families as they struggled to find a new normal in their lives. Panda and Lucy understood exactly how many difficulties they’d face dealing with so many kids and adults in crisis, but they’d hired some extraordinary people to help out, and neither of them was afraid of a challenge.
The camp was being funded by the Litchfield-Jorik foundation, whose assets had grown substantially after Lucy turned over a large portion of the money she’d inherited from her grandfather. “There goes our yacht,” Panda had said when the paperwork was finished.
But between his business and Lucy’s writing career, they were financially comfortable, and neither of them had any interest in a more luxurious lifestyle. Nor did their imp of a daughter, who was perfectly happy clomping around in whatever pair of shoes her parents had left out.
Panda’s bodyguard instincts kicked in seconds before Lucy’s maternal ears perked up. “I’ll get him,” he said.
Lucy nodded and headed instead for their two-year-old daughter, who was gleefully attempting to snatch a bedraggled stuffed dinosaur from a loudly protesting miniature replica of Ted Beaudine. Panda reached the screen porch where his son had been napping. The baby quieted as Panda put him to his shoulder, and the old house that had once felt so unwelcome seemed to embrace them both. He gazed out at his yard, where the people who meant everything to him had gathered.
Lucy had managed to distract their daughter, a pint-size lion tamer with Panda’s dark curls and her mother’s adventurous spirit. The afternoon ferry chugged toward the harbor. A pair of gulls swooped over the water in search of a meal. Lucy lifted her head and looked toward the porch. As their gazes met, her mouth curled in a soft smile of contentment that made his heart swell.
Be the best at what you’re good at.
Who could have known he’d be so good at this?
