else’s. It’s too scary.”
Amelia exhaled noisily. “Forget the kids, just tell me, is the dad cute?”
“How should I know?” Paige wound the phone cord around her fingers. “I’ve been avoiding him.”
“You’re a pathetic excuse for a female,” Amelia said in obvious disgust. “If you haven’t met him, how do you know he’s single?”
“Mrs. Spivy across the street.” Paige laughed as she remembered the day the good-natured, well-meaning woman had dropped the news. Mrs. Spivy was such a gossip she’d probably protested when the phone company did away with party lines. “She’s the neighborhood welcoming committee. She took him an apple pie when he first moved in.”
“Well, there’s a thought,” Amelia said. “Why don’t you make your favorite chocolate mousse and take it over? You could put whip cream and a cherry on top.”
Paige scoffed. “I am not going to bake my way into the man’s bed.”
“I guess that would be a little sexist,” Amelia admitted. “Okay, then design yourself a sexy new outfit, something short, you know, show off your legs.”
“And that’s not sexist?”
Amelia laughed. “Well, I’d tell you to fix me up with the guy, but things are going pretty good with Derrick—”
“You really like him?” Paige asked, grateful for the change in subject.
Amelia cooed dreamily. “He’s almost perfect. I’m surprised you set me up with him instead of keeping him for yourself.”
“We’ve been friends since grammar school,” Paige said. “But there wasn’t any chemistry between us.”
“Good,” Amelia said, emphatically. “’Cause he might be the one.”
“You’re a hopeless romantic, Amelia. I’ve given up on men for a while.”
“Gee, Paige. There’re a few good ones out there. You have to keep looking.”
“And get my heart broken again? I don’t think so.”
“Trust me, it’s worth it.”
Paige laughed, then shook her head. “Listen, I need to deliver these fliers. I promised Mrs. Spivy I’d head up the committee on the neighborhood watch program.”
“Still having trouble with vandals?”
“Yeah. Maybe this watch thing will help.”
“Hey, a perfect excuse to meet your new neighbor.”
Paige rolled her eyes. “You are hopeless. He’s probably a geek with monsters for kids.” She hung up the phone, shaking her head at Amelia’s laughter, then grabbed the fliers and headed toward the door. She meant what she’d told Amelia. She was through with men for a while, especially ones with children and pets. No more kitty litter on the carpet. No more car pools. No more back seat squabbles. No more being used for a fill-in mom. She intended to heed her mother’s advice and focus on her dreams.
She’d finish her degree, then become a dress designer. Then she’d travel and make her mark in the business world.
Outside, as Paige stuffed fliers in people’s boxes, her thoughts strayed to the neighbors out tending their spring flowers and yards. Thirty miles north of Atlanta, the residents of Crabapple had access to all the city offered, but land was cheaper and trees plentiful in the suburbs. Quaint antique shops lined the downtown area, which consisted of nothing more than a church, a gas station, an elementary school and a two-lane highway. Several small horse farms bordered the edge of town. But the close-knit community, famous for the crabapple trees flanking the town square, had recently been plagued by a series of mysterious vandalisms, making residents nervous and edgy.
She’d almost finished distributing the notices when she noticed pigtailed twins pulling a bright red wagon, walking an overweight, floppy-eared dog. Or the mutt might be walking them. The child holding the leash yelled, “Whoa, Henrietta!” but the dog moaned pathetically and tried to lie down. The urchin tugged until the dog begrudgingly ambled along behind her, its head drooping, its movements labored. The girls were probably four or five years old. One wore yellow overalls, the other blue.
Where were their parents?
Stop it, she chastised herself silently. They aren’t your responsibility. Thank goodness. After Joey…
Besides, except for the break-ins, this was a quiet, safe neighborhood. Teens were probably responsible for the vandalism.
Still, she couldn’t help being curious about the girls. She turned the corner and headed toward them. The twins had stopped by a telephone pole. The one in yellow struggled with the dog to keep it from charging into the street to chase a bird while the other one pulled out a hammer and a flier from the wagon. She clumsily attempted to hang the paper on the pole. They were probably having a garage sale, or they’d set up a lemonade stand.
She chuckled again as the child slammed the hammer down and missed, then tried again. The dog howled, and the other girl brushed his long brown ears lovingly. Suddenly a gust of wind blew the paper from the second little girl’s hands.
“Oh, no, get it!” she cried.
Her sister pointed to the flailing paper. “Stop!”
“I’ll get it!” Paige’s mothering instincts automatically kicked in when she saw the paper swirling toward the road.
The girls halted, their eyes wide as the wind hurled the flier into the street. The mutt barked, perked his ears, and darted to chase it. So, the dog could run, after all.
“Girls, don’t go into the street,” Paige warned.
The one in yellow pulled the leash, struggling against the dog’s weight. Her sister grabbed her waist to keep her from being dragged into the road. The dog moaned and flopped to the ground. The twins tumbled over each other, landing on top of the dog.
Paige snatched the paper from the ground and fought laughter as the girls and the dog sought to untangle themselves. Her gaze strayed to the flier and a smile curved her lips as she saw the crayon childish scrawl. Then she deciphered the words and her mouth dropped open in surprise.
WIVE AND MOMMI WANTED
Rite Away
for Hansum Daddi & Dorabl Twins
Must like anmuls and make chocwit chip cookies
Zeke Blalock 555-1200
Paige studied the girls—strawberry-blond hair, huge green eyes, with a smattering of freckles dotting their noses—they were adorable.
But why were they advertising for a mother?
She handed the flier to them. “I guess you need this.”
“Thanks, but you can keep it,” the girl in yellow said with a hopeful smile.
Her sister
