“You really like him?” Paige asked, grateful for the change in subject.
Amelia cooed dreamily. “He’s almost perfect. I’m surprised you set me up with him instead of keeping him for yourself.”
“We’ve been friends since grammar school,” Paige said. “But there wasn’t any chemistry between us.”
“Good,” Amelia said, emphatically. “’Cause he might be the one.”
“You’re a hopeless romantic, Amelia. I’ve given up on men for a while.”
“Gee, Paige. There’re a few good ones out there. You have to keep looking.”
“And get my heart broken again? I don’t think so.”
“Trust me, it’s worth it.”
Paige laughed, then shook her head. “Listen, I need to deliver these fliers. I promised Mrs. Spivy I’d head up the committee on the neighborhood watch program.”
“Still having trouble with vandals?”
“Yeah. Maybe this watch thing will help.”
“Hey, a perfect excuse to meet your new neighbor.”
Paige rolled her eyes. “You are hopeless. He’s probably a geek with monsters for kids.” She hung up the phone, shaking her head at Amelia’s laughter, then grabbed the fliers and headed toward the door. She meant what she’d told Amelia. She was through with men for a while, especially ones with children and pets. No more kitty litter on the carpet. No more car pools. No more back seat squabbles. No more being used for a fill-in mom. She intended to heed her mother’s advice and focus on her dreams.
She’d finish her degree, then become a dress designer. Then she’d travel and make her mark in the business world.
Outside, as Paige stuffed fliers in people’s boxes, her thoughts strayed to the neighbors out tending their spring flowers and yards. Thirty miles north of Atlanta, the residents of Crabapple had access to all the city offered, but land was cheaper and trees plentiful in the suburbs. Quaint antique shops lined the downtown area, which consisted of nothing more than a church, a gas station, an elementary school and a two-lane highway. Several small horse farms bordered the edge of town. But the close-knit community, famous for the crabapple trees flanking the town square, had recently been plagued by a series of mysterious vandalisms, making residents nervous and edgy.
She’d almost finished distributing the notices when she noticed pigtailed twins pulling a bright red wagon, walking an overweight, floppy-eared dog. Or the mutt might be walking them. The child holding the leash yelled, “Whoa, Henrietta!” but the dog moaned pathetically and tried to lie down. The urchin tugged until the dog begrudgingly ambled along behind her, its head drooping, its movements labored. The girls were probably four or five years old. One wore yellow overalls, the other blue.
Where were their parents?
Stop it, she chastised herself silently. They aren’t your responsibility. Thank goodness. After Joey…
Besides, except for the break-ins, this was a quiet, safe neighborhood. Teens were probably responsible for the vandalism.
Still, she couldn’t help being curious about the girls. She turned the corner and headed toward them. The twins had stopped by a telephone pole. The one in yellow struggled with the dog to keep it from charging into the street to chase a bird while the other one pulled out a hammer and a flier from the wagon. She clumsily attempted to hang the paper on the pole. They were probably having a garage sale, or they’d set up a lemonade stand.
She chuckled again as the child slammed the hammer down and missed, then tried again. The dog howled, and the other girl brushed his long brown ears lovingly. Suddenly a gust of wind blew the paper from the second little girl’s hands.
“Oh, no, get it!” she cried.
Her sister pointed to the flailing paper. “Stop!”
“I’ll get it!” Paige’s mothering instincts automatically kicked in when she saw the paper swirling toward the road.
The girls halted, their eyes wide as the wind hurled the flier into the street. The mutt barked, perked his ears, and darted to chase it. So, the dog could run, after all.
“Girls, don’t go into the street,” Paige warned.
The one in yellow pulled the leash, struggling against the dog’s weight. Her sister grabbed her waist to keep her from being dragged into the road. The dog moaned and flopped to the ground. The twins tumbled over each other, landing on top of the dog.
Paige snatched the paper from the ground and fought laughter as the girls and the dog sought to untangle themselves. Her gaze strayed to the flier and a smile curved her lips as she saw the crayon childish scrawl. Then she deciphered the words and her mouth dropped open in surprise.
WIVE AND MOMMI WANTED
Rite Away
for Hansum Daddi & Dorabl Twins
Must like anmuls and make chocwit chip cookies
Zeke Blalock 555-1200
Paige studied the girls—strawberry-blond hair, huge green eyes, with a smattering of freckles dotting their noses—they were adorable.
But why were they advertising for a mother?
She handed the flier to them. “I guess you need this.”
“Thanks, but you can keep it,” the girl in yellow said with a hopeful smile.
Her sister wrinkled her nose. “That is, if you don’t already gots some little girls of your own.”
“Can you make chocwit chip cookies?”
“Well, yes—”
“You don’t gots a daddy?”
The twin in blue poked her sister. “You mean a hus…bund. He’s our daddy.”
Paige smothered laughter. The little girls were obviously serious. Did their “daddi” know what they were up to?
“What are your names?” Paige asked. She noticed the one in yellow was missing a front tooth. Good, a way to tell the girls apart.
“I’m August,” the child with the missing tooth answered.
“And I’m Summer.” The twin holding the wagon pointed to herself. “Our mama named us that ’cause we was born in the summer.”
“But she wents away,” August said in a sad voice.
“And we don’t ever see her anymore,” Summer said. Both girls’ bottom lips suddenly trembled and Paige’s stomach clenched into a knot. They looked as if they were going to burst into tears any second.
“I’m Paige Watkins,” Paige said, deftly changing the subject as she petted the mutt’s head. “Great dog, you’ve got there.” Surely, the topic of the dog was safe.
“Her name’s Henrietta,” Summer said brightening.
“Yeah, first we called her Henry, but we found out he was a girl.”
“Girls are different from boys,” August said.
“See, boys gots a—”
“Yes, honey, I know the difference,” Paige said, with a grin. So, the dog topic wasn’t such a good idea either. “I haven’t seen you two before. Where do you live?”
The girls exchanged worried looks. One of them pointed in the direction of Paige’s house. “Thataway, I think.”
“In a brown house.”
“It gots a porch.”
“We just moved in.”
“We’d