Chapter Five

      “The way you talk, you kids must think your mom and dad are ready to be put out to pasture.”

      At the sound of Therese’s brittle laughter, Tori paused in the doorway to the kitchen Thursday morning. She was on the phone, pacing the floor, but motioned Tori to come in. In the two weeks since Tori started the job, she and the boys’ grandmother had fallen into taking turns preparing lunch on weekdays. Never anything elaborate or time-consuming. Healthy and light. But it was an enjoyable family time for the five of them. Today was Tori’s day as chef.

      “Well, stop with the worrying, Curtis,” Therese continued as Tori opened a cabinet and pulled out the boys’ favorite drinking glasses. Superman for Landon. Snoopy for Cubby. “We’re doing fine. Maybe slowing down. But I’ve read that seventies are the new sixties, you know. We don’t need any of you hovering over us...Yes, we now have help with the boys. A nice young woman who attends our church...Yes. Yes. Experienced with kids. She’s working out beautifully.”

      She rolled her eyes at Tori and used her shoulder to tuck the phone by her ear, then opened the fridge to pull out a gallon of milk and set it on the counter. “If something comes up and we need help, trust that we still know how to pick up the phone...What? That’s not putting a whole lot of confidence in your dear old mom, now, is it?...Yes. Yes. I love you, too. Talk to you later.”

      Therese hung up the landline phone. “Kids!”

      Tori looked up from where she was setting the table. “Giving you a hard time?”

      “Curtis. He’s our oldest. All our kids live in Los Angeles now and have been at us to move there, too, ever since we retired from teaching. But we want no part of that.” She shook her head. “Curtis has it in his head that Ray and I are on our last legs and don’t have the combined sense of a goose. Now he thinks the boys are too much for us. You know, at our advanced age.”

      “Little boys can be a handful.”

      “We’re doing fine with a housekeeper coming in twice a week, and with you here, everything is more than fine.” She gave Tori a thankful smile. “So what’s for lunch? Is there anything I can do to help, besides pour the milk?”

      “I thought we’d have turkey tacos, French green beans, orange slices and ants-on-a-log.”

      Therese’s eyes widened. “Dear me, what’s that? Or maybe I don’t want to know.”

      Tori reached into the refrigerator’s vegetable bin and pulled out a celery bunch. “Sliced celery ribs filled with crunchy peanut butter and topped with raisin ‘ants’ arranged like they’re crawling on it.”

      Therese laughed. “Cubby and Landon will love it. Now Ray, that may be a different story.”

      As it turned out, the ants-on-a-log were a hit with Ray as well as with the twins. Then shortly after lunch Tori headed off to the Outpost, where she’d started the day before yesterday. For the time being, it looked like Tuesday, Wednesday and Thursday afternoons would be her designated time in the outdoor-gear shop. The boys usually attended a preschool program two of those afternoons each week, and Outpost hours would be added as she further settled into the boys’ routines. Sawyer, fortunately, was open to her need for flexibility.

      She still hadn’t quite pinpointed the underlying feeling that she’d picked up on between the Selbys and Sawyer. But the night Sawyer walked her and the boys home, she’d almost sensed him tensing when the Selbys drove up. And maybe it was her imagination, but it seemed Ray was more concerned about their walking home instead of driving than the situation warranted. In particular, he’d quizzed her as to how Sawyer had gotten involved.

      “Hey, Tori!” Diego Santiago called out when she walked in the door of the Echo Ridge Outpost. “Great timing.”

      “Yeah? What’s up?” Slipping off her coat and drinking in the aromas of leather, WD-40 and what she’d come to know as Hoppe’s gun cleaner, she approached the dark-haired young man who was straightening items around the cash register. He was probably about her age, maybe a few years younger, an energetic guy whose love for the outdoors made him a perfect match—unlike her—for working at the outdoor-gear store.

      “I got a call that my girlfriend locked herself out of her car. I need to dash by her mom’s place and pick up the spare key.”

      “Nasty day to have that happen. You’d better get going.”

      “Thanks.” He headed toward the door, then paused. “You’ll be okay, right? I know you don’t know anything about fishing and hunting stuff, but it’s been a slow day. I won’t be gone long. If someone comes in who’s looking for something more serious than a pair of gloves, stall him.” He flashed a grin. “Or her.”

      “I’ll be fine. Is Sawyer here?”

      He looked at his watch and frowned. “Still at lunch, I guess.”

      “Okay. Get going.”

      When she’d hung up her coat and stowed her purse in Sawyer’s office, she immediately got to work. He’d left her a sketched diagram of where he wanted merchandise moved or displays rearranged. He agreed with her that the store could use some changing up, that certain items had sat too long in the same place year after year, causing customers to overlook them.