on the kitchen counter and occasionally helps himself to one throughout the day.”
“And the boys discovered it and are regularly making off with more than a few themselves.”
“Bingo. I had to call them on it. Pointed out that those belong to their grandpa and they hadn’t been invited to partake.”
He nodded approval. “Even something as minor as that needs to be reined in for the boys’ own good. Not only putting a halt to absconding with Ray’s personal treats, but limiting the sugar consumption. This is the kind of thing I appreciate you being on top of.”
“You still understand, though, don’t you, that I’m not your spy in the Selby household?”
“You made that loud and clear.”
“I don’t want there to be any misunderstanding.”
“Not a chance.” But was she, by making a point of this again tonight, alluding to the fact that perhaps she’d seen things that concerned her? Things more serious than a potential sugar overload or “grand theft cookie”?
She glanced at her watch. “As soon as the boys finish their punch—and cookie—we’d better start for home. If Ray and Therese are back, they’ll wonder what happened to us.”
“They’re out for the evening?” How many other times that he wasn’t aware of had they left the kids with a babysitter and gone out on the town?
“There’s a visitation at the funeral home in Canyon Springs,” Tori continued, “then out to dinner with friends whose family member passed away.”
Okay, maybe that was legit.
As they waited for the boys, they chatted about nothing of particular importance—a welcome break in the winter weather, her settling into the apartment and no signs of a mouse.
“Ready to go?” Tori smiled as the boys approached, downing the last bites of what he didn’t quite trust had been a single cookie each. “Bundle up and we’ll head out. Full moon tonight, so it should be a pretty walk.”
Sawyer frowned. “You walked? On a bitterly cold night like this?” Hunter Ridge wasn’t that well lit either. Not once you got away from the business district along the main road through town.
She nodded almost guiltily. “I didn’t feel comfortable at night driving or trying to park the big SUV that Therese and Ray left for my use. It has car seats for the boys, but they look complicated and by the time I realized that, I knew I’d never figure out how to get them moved to my car in time for the play.”
He helped her into her coat. “Let me give you a lift home, then.”
Her expression brightened. “You have booster seats?”
“No, but—”
“Then we’ll walk.”
Stubborn little thing. Yeah, he knew the state laws, but it wasn’t that far of a drive and it wasn’t like he’d be hot-rodding. “Well, then, you won’t be walking alone. Come on, boys, get those coats and mittens on.”
She lightly touched his arm. “You don’t have to do this, Sawyer. We’ll be fine.”
“I’m sure you will be, but there’s no harm in keeping things on the safe side, is there?”
She gave what he took to be a resigned sigh. Too bad. As he held open an exit door to the fellowship hall for Tori and the boys, his friend Kyle caught his eye and gave him a thumbs-up.
Sawyer let the door slam shut behind him.
Outside, the kids scampered across the dimly lit parking lot, pausing only long enough to skim across frozen puddle patches as Tori attempted unsuccessfully to keep up, her warnings to slow down unheard by squealing four-and-a-half-year-olds.
He shook his head, then let out a piercing whistle that stopped all three in their tracks.
“Put the brakes on it, boys. Slow it down.”
Although the twins grumbled, they obeyed, waiting for Tori to catch up and for Sawyer to join them. Then the foursome headed off again, the boys leading the way.
“You’ll have to teach me how to whistle like that.” Tori’s tone held a note of admiration. “I think it may come in handy in this job.”
“Easier to buy you a whistle, I imagine.”
“Probably.”
As they left the parking lot, overhead light diminished considerably despite the rising round-faced moon, and Tori switched on a pocket flashlight.
“You’ve come prepared.”
“I gave ones to the boys, too, if they’d remember to pull them out.”
“What’s the fun of that when you can run blindly into the dark and fall into a snowbank?”
“True.”
They walked in silence for some distance, the voices of the boys, not far ahead, chattering about the nighttime adventure.
“So, how’s your first week on duty been?”
“Pretty good. Not a whole lot of time to myself right now—the boys seem to find their way to my apartment quite frequently.”
“I can see how that might be a problem.”
“I think once they get used to me being there, I’ll be less of a fascination.”
He doubted that, but he’d let her think what she wanted to. “If you can find the time next week, you should practice driving the Selbys’ bruiser of an SUV in the daylight. You may need it the next time a winter storm system moves through. Depending on where you have to go, that compact of yours might not be able to handle it.”
Her chin lifted as if she didn’t like to be told what to do.
“At any rate,” he continued, not giving her a chance to argue, “you need to tell the Selbys to invest in an extra set of booster seats that you can keep in your car. The boys are big enough that the backless kind should suffice now. Ray and Therese’s can probably be converted, too.”
They’d run out of sidewalk, had shifted to walk along the edge of the road, and Tori called out a reminder to go single file. At least the snow had melted enough that they didn’t have to walk in the roadway itself. The boys had pulled out their flashlights, too, sparring as though with lightsabers.
“Does it seem funny, Sawyer, to have brothers—half brothers—so much younger than you?”
He figured it wasn’t anyone’s business what he thought of it, since Dad had never asked his opinion on the subject. But he sensed Tori’s question was sincere interest, not prying.
“I have two other brothers not too many years older than me. But yeah, it does feel funny at times. I’ve had people think Cubby and Landon are my kids.”
“I can see why. They resemble you. Your dad, he was divorced? Widowed?”
“Widower. When he moved to town to work with me at the Outpost, he met Vanessa Selby—Therese and Ray’s youngest daughter—who was fifteen years his junior. She’d spent most of her adult life on a mission field in South America. Never married. No children, but still young enough to have them and—” he chuckled, still marveling at how excited Dad had been when Vanessa announced she was pregnant “—lo and behold, that’s exactly what Anderson and Vanessa Banks did.”
“How old was your dad when the twins were born?”
“Fifty-three.”
“Brave man.”
“That’s my dad, alright. But after he’d lived alone for so many years, I could hardly begrudge him a little happiness.”
“It’s a shame it was short-lived.”
“Yeah.