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center. Doors in the entertainment center stood open, drawers were pulled out, videotapes and CDs had been tossed about helter-skelter.

      “See what I mean about vandals?” Graham gestured helplessly. “I tried to tell them that I didn’t own any videos or CDs for kids, but they refused to listen.”

      “You mind if I ask them to turn the TV down?” she asked.

      “You’re wasting your breath. But go ahead.”

      Holly walked over to the twins and clapped her hands together smartly to attract their attention. “Justin. Jennifer. The TV’s too loud,” she said. The children looked up at her, taking her measure. It was difficult for Holly to maintain her brisk manner as she gazed into their faces. They were both adorable, the blue-eyed, fair-haired little girl and the brown-haired, brown-eyed little Graham look-alike. “I said, ‘The TV’s too loud.’ It hurts our ears. Turn the volume down.” She mimicked using an imaginary remote control.

      Justin held the real remote clutched in both hands. After long seconds of deliberation, he pressed a small finger on the appropriate button.

      “Well, I’ll be d—” Graham muttered. He’d followed behind her but stopped a few yards away.

      “Lower than that, please,” Holly directed Justin. She smiled at the little boy when he’d reluctantly obeyed. “Thank you. That’s much better. And much safer. Loud noise can damage our eardrums and eventually make us deaf. That’s why workmen running noisy machines wear ear protection.”

      “Who are you?” demanded Jennifer, sitting up.

      “I’m Holly Beaumont, a friend of your daddy’s.”

      The little girl’s face clouded up and her bottom lip trembled. “He’s not our daddy. Our mommy told us we didn’t have a daddy, and I don’t like him.” Tears suddenly welled up, and Jennifer began to cry brokenheartedly. “I w-want my m-mommy to come b-back from heaven. I want to go to my h-house and stay with Mary.”

      “Don’t cry, sweetie,” Holly crooned. Her own eyes wet, she sank down beside the distraught child and hugged her.

      “I want Mommy to come back. And I want to go to my house,” Justin said, breaking down and sobbing just as pitifully.

      Holly gathered him close, too, and murmured reassurances that seemed woefully inadequate in light of the children’s great loss. “Mommy wouldn’t want you to cry like this. She would want you to be happy children. Tell you what. Let’s dry those tears and do something really fun. Okay? How would you like for your daddy and me to take you to a playground?”

      Graham had come closer. At his muffled sound of protest, Holly glanced up at him and read panic on his face. He shook his head hard and mouthed, “No way.”

      “Why not?” she mouthed back.

      “You haven’t ridden with them in a car,” he said in an urgent undertone. “They won’t keep their seat belts fastened. And if you let go of their hands when you’re out in public, they can be gone in a flash. In different directions.”

      He obviously spoke from terrifying experience.

      “There’re two of us. We can manage,” Holly said confidently.

      Meanwhile the children’s sobs had quieted.

      “A playground?” questioned Justin with interest, sniffling.

      “With seesaws and swings?” Jennifer asked, wiping her wet little cheeks with her palms.

      Holly looked pleadingly at Graham, who sighed in capitulation.

      “Against all my better judgment,” he said.

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