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But wait—
“The potion?” Cullen asked, Megan’s words belatedly sinking in.
“Yeah,” said the little girl. “We like to pretend we’re scientists and the bathroom is our lab. We make potions out of all the things we find in there.”
He tried to remember where Angie stored the cleaning supplies that produced noxious fumes if mixed together—like bleach and ammonia.
“Yeah, that sounds like fun,” he said. “But it can be kind of dangerous. So you have to be careful. What did you mix together to make the potion expand like that?”
The girl had started to give him a laundry list of ingredients when Angie called from downstairs, “Goodbye, Dr. Dunlevy. I’m leaving now.”
He’d let her go downstairs to cool off a bit, hoping he could talk some sense into her. Or bribe her.
“Angie, please wait.”
He looked at the little girl. “I need to go apologize to Angie and try and talk her into staying. We’ll talk about the potion later. In the meantime, please don’t conduct any more chemistry experiments. And don’t flush anything else down the toilet. Will you please make sure your brother and sisters don’t, either? I’m counting on you, okay?”
Megan nodded and swiped at her tears. He ruffled her hair to show her he wasn’t mad at her. He was mad at the situation, but what else could he do except go down and plead with Angie?
He was so out of his league. But when he’d gotten Megan’s distress call three days ago, he’d had no choice but to bring the kids to live with him.
People could say a lot of things about Cullen Dunlevy, but no one could deny that he was a man of his word.
Six months ago, after Greg and Rosa’s funeral, it seemed as if the kids were settled. They were set to move in with a great couple. Dan and Carla, friends of Greg and Rosa, had agreed to take in the kids—all four of them. They’d promised to love them as their own. But then Carla had gotten sick. Terminally ill. In the weeks before the adoption was to become final, they had to back out.
No warning. No opportunity for Cullen to point out that he wouldn’t make a good guardian since he practically lived at the hospital. But he’d made a promise to Megan at her parents’ funeral. He’d told her if she needed anything—anything at all—she could call him and he’d be there.
When he’d made that promise, he’d intended anything at all to mean money, a ride, advice. He’d never imagined the little girl would call, asking him to give her and her brother and sisters a temporary home.
But she had called, and he intended to keep his word for as long as it took to find the kids a new adoptive family where they could stay together—all four of them.
Cullen swallowed bile as he headed toward the kitchen to try to sweet-talk Angie into staying until he’d had a chance to talk to Lily. He and the kids would sort out the blue mess in the bathroom and their behavior later.
“Angie, will you please just help me out today? I’m desperate. I need you. Just until after the interview. And maybe to show the nanny the ropes. Then you’re off the hook.”
When Cullen had asked Angie to watch the kids, she’d made it very clear that her schedule was full. She’d built a nice business cleaning house for many of the doctors and professionals at Celebration Memorial. In fact, she delighted in telling him she had a waiting list, which Cullen knew mostly consisted of single doctors who worked so many hours that they were never home to mess up their homes. Of course, dust fell and spiders spun webs whether or not a person was home.
Angie had found her niche. It was a pretty good gig. The only reason—besides the monetary incentive—she agreed to put in extra hours at Cullen’s house to babysit was that he was her original client.
He’d milked that for all it was worth. And then he’d made her an offer she couldn’t refuse. Now she was threatening to quit altogether.
Why should he be surprised? Had he ever been able to count on anyone?
“Please, Angie. Stay.”
With her purse on her arm, the harried fiftysomething woman sighed and shot him a pained look. The unspoken reality was that the four kids needed to be watched. Like a hawk. They wouldn’t sit quietly in front of the television or entertain themselves. In the three days they’d been at Cullen’s house, he’d discovered entertaining themselves produced foaming blue potions that clogged toilets and stained bathroom floors.
