fresh, clean water—and refilled the bowl.
Wynn was pacing the kitchen floor behind her.
“Does your book say anything about situations like this?” she couldn’t resist asking.
He glared at her and apparently that was all the answer he intended to give.
“Aunt Katherine?” one of the twins shouted. “Come quick.” K.O. heard unmistakable panic in the little girl’s voice.
Soon the two girls were both crying out.
Hurrying into the bedroom with Wynn right behind her, K.O. found Zoe and Zara weeping loudly.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Freddy’s gone,” Zoe wailed.
“Freddy?” she repeated. “Who’s Freddy?”
“Our hamster,” Zoe explained, pointing at what K.O. now recognized as a cage against the far wall. “He must’ve figured out how to open his cage.”
A chill went through her. “Does Freddy have a brown tail and happen to be a little chubby?” she asked the girls.
Hope filled their eyes as they nodded eagerly.
K.O. scowled at Wynn. African brown-tailed mouse, indeed.
Chapter Seventeen
Thankfully, Wynn rescued poor Freddy, who was discovered shivering in a corner of the porch. The girls were relieved to have their hamster back, and neither mentioned the close call Freddy had encountered with certain death. After calming the twins, it took K.O. and Wynn an hour to clean up the living room. By then, they were both cranky and tired.
Saturday morning, Zoe and Zara decided on wieners for breakfast. Knowing Wynn would approve, K.O. cooked the hot dogs he’d purchased the night before. However, the unaccustomed meat didn’t settle well in Zoe’s tummy and she threw up on her breakfast plate. Zara insisted that all she wanted was orange juice poured over dry cereal. So that was what she got.
For the rest of the morning, Wynn remained pensive and remote. He helped her with the children but didn’t want to talk. In fact, he seemed more than eager to get back to Blossom Street. When Zelda and Zach showed up that afternoon, he couldn’t quite hide his relief. The twins hugged K.O. goodbye and Wynn, too.
While Wynn loaded the car, K.O. talked to Zelda about holiday plans. Zelda asked her to join the family for Christmas Eve dinner and church, but not Christmas Day, which they’d be spending with Zach’s parents. K.O. didn’t mind. She’d invite LaVonne to dinner at her place. Maybe she’d include Wynn and his father, too, despite the disastrous conclusion of the last social event she’d hosted for this same group. Still, when she had the chance, she’d discuss it with Wynn.
On the drive home, Wynn seemed especially quiet.
“The girls are a handful, aren’t they?” she asked, hoping to start a conversation.
He nodded.
She smiled to herself, remembering Wynn’s expression when Zoe announced that their hamster had escaped. Despite his reproachful silence, she laughed. “I promise not to mention that rare African brown-tailed mouse again, but I have to tell LaVonne.”
“I never said it was rare.”
“Oh, sorry, I thought you had.” One look told her Wynn wasn’t amused. “Come on, Wynn,” she said, as they merged with the freeway traffic. “You have to admit it was a little ridiculous.”
He didn’t appear to be in the mood to admit anything. “Are you happy?” he asked.
“What do you mean?”
“You proved your point, didn’t you?”
So that was the problem. “If you’re referring to how the girls behaved then, yes, I suppose I did.”
“You claimed that after your sister read my book, they changed into undisciplined hellions.”
“Well...” Wasn’t it obvious? “They’re twins,” she said, trying to sound conciliatory, “and as such they’ve always needed a lot of attention. Some of what happened on Friday evening might have happened without the influence of your child-rearing theories. Freddy would’ve escaped whether Zelda read your book or not.”
“Very funny.”
“I wasn’t trying to be funny. Frankly, rushing to the store to buy hot dogs because that’s what the girls wanted for dinner is over the top, in my opinion. I feel it teaches them to expect that their every whim must be met.”
“I beg to differ. My getting the dinner they wanted showed them that I cared about their likes and dislikes.”
“Two hours of sitting on the floor playing Old Maid said the same thing,” she inserted.
“I let you put them to bed even though they clearly weren’t ready for sleep.”
“I beg to differ,” she said, a bit more forcefully than she’d intended. “Zoe and Zara were both yawning when they came out of the bath. I asked them if they wanted to go to bed.”
“What you asked,” he said stiffly, “was if they were ready for bed.”
“And the difference is?”
“Two hours of storytime while they