take your medicine or did Zara take it for you?” Wynn asked.
Zoe smiled and shook her head, indicating that she wasn’t telling.
Zara snored, punctuating the conversation.
“Did you or did you not take your medicine?” Wynn demanded, nearly yelling.
Tears welled in Zoe’s eyes. She buried her face in K.O.’s lap and refused to answer Wynn.
“This isn’t a joke,” he muttered, clearly losing his patience with the twins.
“Zoe,” K.O. cautioned. “You heard Dr. Jeffries. It’s important for us to know if you took your medication.”
The little girl raised her head, then slowly nodded. “It tastes bad, but I swallowed it all down.”
“Good.” Relief flooded K.O. “Thank you for telling the truth.”
“I don’t like your friend,” she said, sticking her tongue out at Wynn. “He yells.”
“I only yelled because...you made me,” Wynn countered. He marched to the far side of the room, and K.O. reflected that he didn’t sound so calm and reasonable anymore.
“Why don’t we all play a game?” she suggested.
Zara raised her head sleepily from the sofa edge. “Can we play Old Maid?” she asked, yawning.
“I want to play Candyland,” Zoe mumbled.
“Why don’t we play both?” K.O. said, and they did. In fact, they played for two hours straight, watched television and then drank hot chocolate.
“Shall we take a bath now?” K.O. asked, hoping that would tire the girls out enough to want to go to bed. She didn’t know where they got their stamina, but her own was fading rapidly.
The twins were eager to do something altogether different and instantly raced out of the room.
Wynn looked like he could use a break—and he hadn’t even seen them at their most challenging. All in all, the girls were exhibiting good behavior, or what passed for good in the regime of the Free Child.
“I’ll run the bath water,” K.O. told Wynn as he gathered up the cards and game pieces. Had she been on her own, K.O. would have insisted the twins pick up after themselves.
While the girls were occupied in their bedroom, she put on a Christmas CD she particularly liked and started the bath. When she glanced into the living room, she saw Wynn collapsed on the sofa, legs stretched out.
“It hasn’t been so bad,” he said, as though that was proof his theories were working well. “As soon as the twins are down, we can talk,” he murmured, “about us...”
K.O. wasn’t ready for that, feeling he should spend more time with the girls. She felt honor-bound to remind Wynn of what he’d written in his book. “Didn’t you say that children know when they need sleep and we as adults should trust them to set their own schedules?”
He seemed about to argue with her, but then abruptly sat up and pointed across the room. “What’s that?”
A naked dog strolled into the living room. Rather, a hairless dog.
“Zero? Zorro?” K.O. asked. “Oh, my goodness!” She dashed into the bathroom to discover Zara sitting on the floor with Wynn’s electric shaver. A pile of brown-and-black dog hair littered the area.
“What happened?” Wynn cried, hard on her heels. His mouth fell open when he saw the girls intent on their task. They’d gone through his toiletries, which were spread across the countertop next to the sink. K.O. realized that the hum of the shaver had been concealed by the melodious strains of “Silent Night.” “What are you doing?”
“We’re giving haircuts,” Zara announced. “Do you want one?”
Chapter Sixteen
Two hours later, at ten-thirty, both Zoe and Zara were in their beds and asleep. This was no small accomplishment. After half a dozen stories, the girls were finally down for the night. K.O. tiptoed out of the room and as quietly as possible closed the door. Wynn was just ahead of her and looked as exhausted as she felt.
Zero regarded K.O. forlornly from the hallway. The poor dog had been almost completely shaved. He stared up at her, hairless and shivering. Zorro still had half his hair. The Yorkshire terrier’s left side had been sheared before K.O. managed to snatch the razor out of her niece’s hand. Last winter Zelda had knit tiny dog sweaters, which K.O. found, and with Wynn’s help slipped over the two terriers. At least they’d be warm, although neither dog seemed especially grateful.
K.O. sank down on the sofa beside Wynn, with the dogs nestled at their feet. Breathing out a long, deep sigh, she gazed up at the ceiling. Wynn was curiously quiet.
“I feel like going to bed myself,” she murmured when she’d recovered enough energy to speak.