to the whims of Zoe and Zara, but far be it from her to object. If he was willing to go to those lengths to get the twins the meal they wanted, she’d let him do it.
“Isn’t that nice of Dr. Jeffries?” K.O. asked her nieces.
Both girls ignored her and Wynn.
K.O. followed him into the other room, where Wynn retrieved his jacket from the hall closet. “I’ll be back soon,” he said.
“I’ll put together a salad and—”
“Let the girls decide if they want a salad,” Wynn interrupted. “Given the option, children will choose a well-balanced diet on their own. We as adults shouldn’t be making these decisions for them.”
K.O. had broken down and bought a copy of The Free Child at a small bookstore that had recently opened on Blossom Street. She’d skimmed it last night, so she knew this advice was in the book, stated in exactly those words. She might not approve, but for tonight she was determined to follow his lead. So she kept her mouth shut. Not that it was easy.
While the girls were occupied, he planted a gentle kiss on her lips, smiled and then was out the door.
It was now three days since they’d been able to spend time together. With that one short kiss, a lovely warmth spread through her. She closed the door after him and was leaning against it when she noticed that the twins had turned to stare at her. “While we’re waiting for Wynn to get back, would you like me to read you a story?” she asked. The salad discussion could wait.
The girls readily agreed, and the three of them settled on the sofa. She was only a few pages into the book when both Zoe and Zara slumped over, asleep. Before Zelda left, she’d said the twins had been awake since five that morning, excited about Katherine’s visit. Apparently they no longer took naps. This was something else Wynn had advised. Children would sleep when they needed to, according to him. Regimented naptimes stifled children’s ability to understand their internal clocks. Well, Zoe’s and Zara’s clocks had obviously wound down—and K.O. was grateful.
The quiet was so blissful that she leaned her head back and rested her own eyes. The tranquility didn’t last long, however. In less than fifteen minutes, Wynn was back from the store, carrying a plastic bag with wieners and fresh buns. The dogs barked frantically as he entered the house, waking both children.
“Here they are,” he announced as if he brandished an Olympic gold medal.
Zara yawned. “I’m not hungry anymore.”
“Me, neither,” Zoe added.
It probably wasn’t the most tactful thing to do, but K.O. smiled triumphantly.
“That’s okay. We can wait until later,” Wynn said, completely unfazed.
He really was good with the girls and seemed to enjoy spending time with them. While K.O. set the kitchen table and cleared away the clutter that had accumulated everywhere, Wynn sat down and talked to the twins. The girls showed him the Christmas tree and the stockings that hung over the fireplace and the nativity scene set up on the formal dining room table.
K.O. heard Zoe mention her imaginary horse named Blackie. Not to be outdone, Zara declared that her imaginary horse was named Brownie. Wynn listened to them seriously and even scooted over to make room for the horses on the sofa. K.O. was grateful that Wynn was sharing responsibility for the girls, whose constant demands quickly drained her.
“I’m hungry now,” Zoe informed them half an hour later.
“I’ll start the hot dogs,” K.O. said, ready for dinner herself.
“I want pancakes.”
“With syrup,” Zara said. Zoe nodded.
K.O. looked at Wynn, who shrugged as if it was no big deal.
“Then pancakes it is,” K.O. agreed. She’d let him cope with the sugar high. For the next ten minutes she was busy mixing batter and frying the pancakes. The twins wanted chocolate syrup and strawberry jam on top, with bananas and granola. Actually, it didn’t taste nearly as bad as K.O. had feared.
According to her sister’s instructions, the girls were to be given their medication with meals. After dinner, Zoe and Zara climbed down from their chairs. When K.O. asked them to take their plates to the sink, they complied without an argument or even a complaint.
“Time for your medicine,” K.O. told them next. She removed two small bottles filled with pink antibiotic from the refrigerator.
The two girls raced about the kitchen, shrieking, with the dogs yapping at their heels. They seemed incapable of standing still.
“Girls,” K.O. ordered sternly. “Take your medicine