LITMIR.BIZ

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himself. Danny hadn’t been as rehabilitated as he’d hoped.

      The red light on his answering machine caught his eye, but he just turned away. If it was work, they’d try his cell. As for his friends, well, he no longer had time for the mountain biking and cross-country skiing that had formerly occupied his non-working hours. He’d given up all his leisure activities to look after Danny’s kids.

      And Kelly was right again. It wasn’t enough. Especially now that there was a third child on the way. To think of how much drinking Sharon had been doing these past two months made Mick sick. She’d promised she would shower in the morning and get ready for him to take her to the doctor. Later in the week, he’d try to convince her to go back to AA.

      But that was all he could do for her. And in his heart he knew it wasn’t enough.

      So what were his options?

      Mick stretched out his legs and leaned his head back. The most obvious solution was one he could hardly bring himself to think about, let alone seriously consider.

      He could marry Sharon and take responsibility for his brother’s family.

      Every cell in his body, though, protested that route. That he didn’t love Sharon, had never even liked her, wasn’t the main problem. He didn’t see how he could partner up with a woman he couldn’t respect. His mother had been a drunk. He couldn’t, just couldn’t, marry another one. Especially one who put the bottle ahead of her children.

      But if he didn’t marry Sharon, where did that leave him?

      As Kelly had said—God, every point the woman had made had been bang on—he didn’t have the time to look after them himself. He supposed he could seek custody, then hire a nanny.

      But those kids needed permanence—a family, a home. He loved them as if they were his own. Wanted them to have everything he and his brother had never had.

      A mom and a dad. Regular bedtimes and mealtimes. Clean clothes, and a cake and a few gifts on their birthdays….

      The more he thought about it, the more Mick came to realize that his first instincts had been right. Marriage was the solution. Just not to Sharon.

      CHAPTER THREE

      “HEY, KIDS! Here’s a new cereal you’ll really like. It’s got marshmallows and chocolate and…”

      Billy Mizzoni’s stomach growled. He turned away from the cheerful TV commercial and looked at his sister on the couch beside him. “Hungry, Mandy?”

      His sister nodded. She had her thumb in her mouth and was holding the flannel blanket that was supposed to be for her doll.

      It was weird. His sister hadn’t sucked her thumb when she was a baby, but now she did. She’d also stopped talking, and had started peeing her pants at night.

      He didn’t mind the stopped-talking part, but the accidents at night were getting to him, since they shared the same bed.

      “Come on.” Billy led the way to the kitchen. It was all tidy again, like it usually was after Uncle Mick came to visit. He opened the bottom cupboard and surveyed boxes of cereal and crackers. Most he didn’t recognize. That made him suspicious. They might have vegetables or something in them. He reached for the golden box that had once been his favorite, the type they’d just seen advertised on TV.

      Amanda made a face when he poured some into a bowl for her. Maybe she was getting sick of it, just like he was. But he didn’t know what else to give her.

      In the old days, before his daddy went to heaven, his mom usually made them toast and gave them juice in the mornings. But she was still sleeping now. He kind of hoped she’d keep sleeping a long time. She’d been sick a lot since Daddy died.

      Billy went to the fridge but couldn’t find the leftover pop from last night. A carton of milk had been pushed into its place, and it even had the spout opened.

      Oh, well. He picked it up and poured some into each of their bowls. Mandy looked surprised. They usually ate their cereal dry.

      “There isn’t any pop,” he explained.

      She shrugged and picked up her spoon.

      Billy gobbled down his cereal in a flash. Boy, he was really hungry. But the cereal didn’t taste as yummy as usual. He’d almost prefer toast and peanut butter, the way Mommy used to make it.

      He supposed she’d make it again, once Daddy got back from this “forever” place that Uncle Mick kept talking about. Hopefully soon. Billy missed him, although he didn’t miss the lickings that were supposed to make him “grow up right.”

      “Want to play outside?” he asked his sister.

      Again, Mandy just nodded. No matter what he asked her, she always agreed.

      “We could make a fort. It snowed again last night.” He thought that might get her excited, but she just moved her head up and down and waited calmly for him to lead the way.

      At the side door, Billy saw boots and mittens propped right in his path. Next to them lay the snowsuits Uncle Mick had bought them a few weeks ago. They were complicated things with legs attached to the coat part. It was easier to put on lighter jackets and runners. It wasn’t that cold outside.

      Unlatching the screen, he had to shield his eyes from the sun. Gosh, the snow was deep. They’d be able to make a great fort. He grabbed Mandy’s little hand and half dragged her to the front yard. Once there, he glanced automatically to the street. Would that lady be sitting in her car watching them again?

      Sure enough, there she was. Just about every day since his dad had died, he’d seen her. Watching him and Mandy, as if she was an angel or something, sent by his dad. He’d seen a movie like that, once on TV.

      He wondered if she had any magical powers. But so far he hadn’t seen signs of any.

      ALMOST TWO WEEKS LATER, Mick had made important strides in finding himself a wife. He shut down his computer for the night and was grabbing his coat from the rack by the window, when the door to his office swung open. Expecting that Abby had decided to meet him here, rather than at the restaurant, he turned with a smile.

      Which quickly disappeared when the mayor of Canmore, Max Strongman, entered the room. Tall and still handsome in his fifties, the mayor appeared to feel he had every right to be showing up well past office hours.

      “Taking off, were you?” Max made it sound as though it were slothful for Mick to be leaving the office at seven in the evening. With all the assurance of someone used to calling the shots, he settled into the chair opposite Mick’s desk.

      Reluctantly, Mick returned to his own seat. “I’ve got a date in ten minutes so I’m in a bit of a hurry.” He glanced at his watch and thought of the reservation he’d made at Sinclair’s, and Abby’s proclivity to be on time.

      “Don’t worry. This isn’t a social call. I’m worried about those grandchildren of mine. Word is, their mother’s been doing a lot of drinking. Making a bit of a scene at the local bars.”

      That Max Strongman had been Danny’s father was something Mick had only discovered after his brother’s death. Somehow he’d never drawn the connection to Billy and Amanda, but of course Strongman was right. He was their grandfather.

      “I’m worried, too,” Mick confessed.

      “Then, why don’t you do something about it? I can’t have my own grandkids turned into street urchins. Can you imagine how that would look to all my bleeding-heart voters?”

      Mick had never liked Max Strongman, but in that instant, he hated him. The man didn’t care about Billy’s and Amanda’s welfare. He was concerned about his public image.

      A public image that Mick, in his weekly editorial, did his best to challenge whenever the facts would allow—which wasn’t often, because Max was wily and smart and not prone to making mistakes.

      For

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