Sure enough, Jack must have been waiting and watching through the peephole, because she immediately heard the slide of locks and he yanked the door open almost before she’d stopped knocking.
His eyes, as dark a brown as his mother’s and already on a level with Amelia’s, took in her disheveled appearance without expression. “What happened?” He didn’t comment on the lateness of her return. She was ordinarily back an hour earlier.
“I tripped. I’m fine.” It was easier than explaining what had really happened. He just believed that she was an avid runner. Not that she’d been staking out that park, hoping for an opportunity to run into Grayson Hunt.
He stepped back and took the bag when she handed it to him. He looked inside. “Bread’s kinda squashed.”
“I’ll make bread pudding out of the worst of it,” she told him. The dessert would be a treat, for once.
Now that she was inside the apartment, she realized how cold she’d gotten outside, and she pulled an aging cardigan off the coatrack by the door and swung it around her shoulders. “Timmy?”
“He’s still asleep.”
It was a small miracle. The baby had only recently begun sleeping through the night, though she’d have to get him up quickly enough when she went to work. “And Molly? Is she ready for school yet?” Jack was already dressed in his uniform of tan chinos and navy-blue sweater, though his feet were bare.
He shrugged, poking through the items in the bag. “She’s still in the bathroom.”
Amelia took the gauze pads and antiseptic cream from Jack and headed into the kitchen that opened off to the left of the door.
Her niece and nephew had obviously eaten breakfast, because there were two cereal bowls and spoons sitting in the sink basin, already rinsed. A tall tin of baby formula was on the counter, too, and when she opened the refrigerator door, she saw several prepared bottles stacked neatly inside.
One less task to do. She closed the refrigerator door, eyeing her nephew. “You didn’t have to do that. But thanks.”
He shrugged again, and hitched his hip onto one of the simple wooden stools that were lined up at the breakfast counter opposite the tiny kitchen. “If you’re fine, why’re you limping?” He opened the peanut butter and peeled back the protective seal, then lifted the jar, sniffing at it slightly.
“I just scraped my knees. Don’t worry about it. Here.” She pulled out a spoon and handed it to him. He almost smiled as he took it and dipped it into the pristine contents. With the spoon full, he tucked it in his mouth and fit the lid back on the jar.
Another thing he’d gotten from his mother. The kid loved peanut butter.
“Are you ready for your math test today?” She ran her hands under the faucet, wincing as the warm water hit her scraped palms.
He pulled the spoon out of his mouth. “Gonna fail it, anyway.” He leaned over the width of the counter and dropped the silverware into the sink with a clatter.
“Jack—”
“I’ll get Mol.” He headed through the short hallway that broke off into the hall bathroom and the two bedrooms the apartment possessed before she could deliver the pep talk forming on her lips.
He was back in minutes, Molly trailing in his wake. She wore her school uniform, too, a navy skirt and matching cardigan over her tan blouse. Her long blond hair was brushed and shiny and her eyes—as dark as her brother’s—widened when she saw Amelia’s appearance.
“I’m fine,” Amelia assured hurriedly. Not unnaturally, Molly worried so easily these days. “I tripped over my shoelace.” She waggled her foot with the lace that Grayson Hunt had securely tied. “Just like you did the other day in the park.”
Molly nibbled her lip for a moment, absorbing that. When she wordlessly held out two bands and a comb, Amelia was relieved. She managed not to wince as she wrapped her fingers around the comb and deftly parted her niece’s silky hair. “Ponytails today instead of braids, okay?”
“Okay,” Molly whispered.
Amelia finished the simple hairstyle and dropped a kiss on the child’s head. “All set.”
“Will we visit Mommy today?” Molly’s voice never raised above the whisper.
Amelia’s heart ached. “After school,” she promised. She took the kids at least twice a week to the convalescent center. Daphne, unfortunately, didn’t react to their presence when they did visit. She was alert, but her own children might as well be strangers. Amelia looked over Molly’s head at Jack. “You two can’t wait for me to go to school this morning or you’ll be late. You’ll be all right catching the bus by yourselves?”
The corner of Jack’s lips turned down. “We always did before.”
She couldn’t help herself. She reached forward and brushed her fingers through the reddish-blond hair falling across his forehead. Before meant before Timmy was born, she knew. Before his mother had become incapacitated and the aunt he’d barely known had come to take over. “I know, sweetheart.” She smoothed her hand down his cheek even as he was stepping away, too grown at twelve years old to suffer such displays of affection. “And you’ll do fine on your math test. Just take your time, Jack.”
He made a face. Math was the only subject in which he really struggled. “Get your pack, Mol.”
But Molly didn’t go for her backpack. Instead, she slipped her hands around Amelia’s waist, hugging her tightly. “Are you staying home today?”
Amelia had counted herself fortunate that she’d found a librarian position with the very school that Jack and Molly attended on scholarship. It didn’t pay as well as her old job at the university library in Oregon, but her schedule was in sync with the children’s. “I’ll just be a little late,” she assured, and hoped Mr. Nguyen, the headmaster, didn’t quibble over the matter. In addition to insurance benefits, she wasn’t yet entitled to sick leave, either. “You have your lunch money?”
Molly’s head bobbed and she finally let Amelia loose to take the backpack that Jack held out for her. She slid her arms through the loops and followed her brother out the door.
Amelia stood there in the silent apartment for a moment. The furnishings were simple but cheerful, seeming to carry Daphne’s personality even after all these weeks without her presence. The beige walls were covered with an eclectic collection of travel posters. Places that Daphne had always dreamed of visiting, but hadn’t. The woven blanket tucked over the couch carried the same brilliance, as did the pillows scattered among the two threadbare armchairs.
No, the apartment wasn’t fancy. It was an aeon away from the type of digs that Grayson Hunt occupied. The research she’d done about the man over the last three months had told her just how great an aeon. Not only did he have his place at the family home on Lake Washington, but he occupied a stunningly modern penthouse near the waterfront that, according to the spread done in an architectural journal, included a rooftop garden that rivaled a forested park.
Unlike the Hunt’s mansion, Daphne’s apartment did not possess walls of windows that afforded its occupants the finest views that money could buy. Nor were Daphne’s furnishings custom-made by the world’s greatest designers, but her sister’s apartment was a home because Daphne had made it so.
Now, Amelia’s sister languished in a facility that provided only the medical care for which she could qualify. Adequate, but definitely basic.
Amelia’s knees ached as she crossed the tidy beige carpet and flipped the locks back into place.
If only she’d been able to convince Daphne to bring the kids and go stay with her in Oregon where they’d both grown up.
Everything