“We won’t, Daddy,” they chirped together.
“I’m sorry,” he apologized to Laurel. “I don’t have a babysitter yet.”
“They’re no problem. Now, let me introduce you properly,” Laurel said. “This is David, Marten, Arlen, Kris and Kent. They’re all new to Lives. This is Rod—he’s been here for a while.”
“Nice to meet you,” Grant said, taking in details about each of the boys.
David, Martin and Kent were towheaded preteens who looked nervous and scared. Grant guessed they’d been talked into committing some offense and had been sentenced to Lives with the hope that one term would be enough to straighten them out. Kris stood next to Arlen, and had adopted Arlen’s bored expression. It was an expression Grant had seen many times before. Rod was the only boy who looked perfectly comfortable.
“I’m Grant. I hope we’ll all work well together,” he said with a smile.
“What exactly are we working toward?” Arlen made no effort to conceal his surliness.
“Lives operates on respect, Arlen,” Laurel reminded quietly but firmly.
“So you’re the resident shrink,” Arlen said, ignoring her.
“Life skills coach, actually,” Grant corrected in a bland tone. “I’m here to help you figure out what you want in your future.”
“Money, power, fame,” Arlen joked. He grinned when Kris snickered but his eyes never left Grant.
“That’s all you want?” Grant held the boy’s glare. “It shouldn’t take us long then.”
“You think it’s that easy to get those?” Arlen barked a laugh then looked to the other boys. “Hey, this guy’s got the secret to life.”
“There’s no secret, Arlen.” Grant leaned back and studied the boy. “If you want money, you get a job. If you want fame, you do something notable. If you want power, you become a leader.”
“Who gets rich from working a job?” Arlen sneered.
“Lots of people. They work, they save and they accumulate. Is money your goal, Arlen?”
“It’s everybody’s goal.” Arlen stretched his legs out and leaned back in his chair.
“Actually, it isn’t,” a voice from behind Grant said.
Grant turned, surprised by the thrill he felt at the sight of Dahlia.
“Lots of people with money are very unhappy.” Dahlia offered Grant an apologetic smile. “Sorry to interrupt.”
The twins rushed to Dahlia, calling her name with glee. She hugged both of them, smoothed their hair and asked about the pictures they were creating.
“Hi, guys,” she said to the boys. They all responded but one. “Hello, Arlen.” She looked directly at the sullen boy. He ignored her. “I should have phoned first,” Dahlia said, her gaze moving to Laurel. “I didn’t realize you were having a session this evening.”
“We’re just talking.” Laurel held up the coffeepot. “Want some?”
“No, thanks.” Dahlia turned to Grant. “May I take the twins outside to play while you finish your discussion?”
“Sure.” Grant noticed how ecstatic the twins were to be with Dahlia, how eagerly they followed her from the room. Was he giving them enough attention?
He waited for Dahlia to escort the girls outside before he steered the conversation back to money. The boys initiated a good discussion about the role of money in their lives, but Grant found he was distracted by the woman playing with the twins outside the big kitchen window.
After half an hour, Grant knew it was time to shut down the group session. He wasn’t doing his best listening and the boys were tiring. He ended on a thinking point and after scribbling a couple of notes, Grant gathered his and the twins’ belongings and said goodbye. When he stepped outside, squeals of laughter greeted him.
“You’re it.” Dahlia tapped him on the shoulder then raced away.
Grant stood in the twilight, a memory weighing him down. Games were not something his father had permitted. In fact, he’d downright disapproved of them. The one time Grant had tried to join a school football league, he’d been severely punished.
Keep your mind on your work, boy. You won’t live here free forever.
Even now, the injustice of it burned inside. All through his childhood he’d slaved to keep the house clean and the yard tidy. He’d even learned to cook simple meals, which his father couldn’t bother with once he’d gotten a bottle in his hand.
“Is something wrong?” Dahlia stood beside him, her face lifted as she searched his gaze.
Those eyes saw too much. He couldn’t bear for her to glimpse that lost part of him that had never quite recovered from his father’s brutality. He shook his head then touched her arm.
“You’re it,” he said.
Though Dahlia smiled, her hazel eyes didn’t have their usual twinkle. They locked on to his and held as a fizzle of current zipped between them, freezing him in place.
“Would you like to go for a coffee?” she asked.
Grant was surprised by how much he wanted to say yes. But the twins danced at his side. “I should get them home to bed,” he said.
“May I help?” The sparkle flashed back into her eyes.
“You want to help with bath time? You’ll get soaked,” he warned.
“It’s happened before. I didn’t melt.” Dahlia teased. “As long as you don’t mind sharing them for a while.”
Mind? He was delighted. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
It turned out Dahlia had ridden her bicycle over to Lives, so Grant loaded it into his trunk. Then they headed home with the twins chattering all the way.
“I’m hungry,” Glory announced to Dahlia. “We had beans for supper. They were yucky. Daddy forgot mommy’s special spices.”
“He burned my toast, too,” Grace added with a baleful look. “Can I have not-burned toast before we go to bed?”
“We’ll see,” Grant said so that Dahlia wouldn’t have to say anything. It was his favorite expression because he never actually had to promise anything. He didn’t make promises anymore, not after promising Eva he’d raise her girls the way she wanted. Look how that was turning out.
“I’m not the world’s greatest cook.” Dahlia tossed Grant a smile. “But I can manage not-burned toast.”
“Easy to say,” he warned. “Just wait until you have helpers.”
Dahlia laughed as if it was the best challenge he could have given her.
When they reached his house and she bounded out of the car, ready to face her test, Grant had two conflicting thoughts in his mind.
He liked this dynamic woman—a lot. And he’d be doing her a favor if he kept his distance.
* * *
Dahlia wasn’t sure what she’d expected Grant’s home to look like, but it wasn’t this. An old sofa and a matching chair covered in a pretty chintz pattern framed a large coffee table, the perfect size for two little girls to sit at and color. In the corner a tidy desk nestled under the window. There was no dust and no mess, yet the room had a lived-in feel, as if people enjoyed each other here.
She allowed herself to be pulled through the house as the girls chattered about their first day at school. It was while Grace and Glory were showing her their room that Dahlia noticed how few clothes they had in