flap, when she heard Mark say in a rather odd voice, “Um, Miranda? Take a look at what the delivery is.”
She looked up at him, frowned at the strange expression on his face, and then turned to see what he was staring at so intently. Her own jaw dropped. “Oh, no.”
Jack Parsons was on his way back to her, dragging two large, wheeled suitcases behind him. And tagging behind those suitcases like little ducklings were a couple of sandy-haired boys with rumpled clothes and identical faces.
“No,” Miranda said again, more firmly this time. “Surely you aren’t…”
“Your sister asked me to bring them to you,” Jack said, setting the suitcases down and nodding toward the twins. “They aren’t any trouble. They’re kind of quiet, actually.”
Panic was beginning to build in her throat. She swallowed to clear her voice. “I don’t understand…”
“Lisa explained everything in her letter. She said you would understand after you read it. And she told me to tell you she’s sorry, and she thanks you for helping her. Now, I’ve got to go. I’ve got a long trip ahead of me tonight.”
“Wait a minute.” Miranda moved after him when he turned to walk away. “Where are you going? You aren’t just going to leave them here.”
Without slowing down, Jack looked over his shoulder. “Sorry, ma’am, but I’ve got to go. Read the letter from your sister. That’ll explain everything.”
Openmouthed in disbelief, Miranda watched the man climb behind the wheel of an extended cab pickup truck and drive away without even looking back. Only then did she turn, very slowly, to face the reality of two young, somber faces gazing expectantly up at her.
“Are you our aunt ’Randa?” one of the boys asked in a quavering voice while his twin hovered shyly behind him.
“Yes,” she answered in a near groan. “I suppose I am.” And heaven help them all, she almost added.
“We’d better get them inside while you read your letter,” Mark murmured, breaking into her momentary paralysis. “It’s cool out here tonight, and they aren’t even wearing jackets over those T-shirts.”
“Inside?” Miranda turned to him, feeling as though she were seeing him through a sudden fog. “My apartment?”
Apparently assessing the situation and deciding that someone had to take charge, he reached out his hand. “Give me your key. I’ll unlock the door.”
She shook her head in an effort to clear her muddled mind. She didn’t need anyone taking charge here, she assured herself. She had just needed a moment to recuperate from the shock. “I’ll do it.”
After opening the door, she reached in to turn on a light, then moved aside and motioned toward the boys. “Come on in. We’ll try to straighten this out.”
Mark dragged the suitcases in behind him as he entered. Miranda closed the door, then turned to find the twins still staring at her with those huge, unblinking brown eyes. “Uh, do you guys need anything?”
“He’s got to pee,” one of them said, pointing to the other.
She didn’t have a clue which boy was which. They looked so much alike she couldn’t imagine anyone being able to tell them apart. Not to mention that they hadn’t even been able to talk the last time she’d seen them.
“The bathroom is through there,” she said, pointing to the bedroom door. “Um, do you need any help?” If so, she was sending Mark, she decided. He had experience at this sort of thing, even if his kids were girls.
But the boy shook his head, turned and hurried toward the door as if he really couldn’t wait a moment longer. His twin continued to stare at Miranda.
“Okay,” she said after taking a deep breath. “I need to read this letter. You can go sit on the couch until your brother comes back,” she told him.
“I’ve got to pee, too.”
“Then go wait at the bathroom door until he’s finished and then you can both sit on the couch until we figure out what’s going on. And both of you wash your hands,” she called after him when he turned to follow his brother. It seemed like something she should say, since she seemed to be in charge of them at the moment, she thought with a gulp.
“Maybe it would be better if I leave now,” Mark suggested, making a slight movement toward the door. “This seems to be family business.”
She reached out to grab his sleeve. “Don’t you dare,” she told him, not even bothering to try to hide her desperation. “You can’t just walk away and leave me alone with them.”
He hesitated a moment, then nodded. “Read the letter, Miranda. Let’s find out what’s going on.”
She ripped into the envelope, hoping without much optimism that the contents would reveal that Lisa was on her way to pick up her sons. Maybe she had simply been detained for an hour or so, and she had asked her friend to bring the boys ahead for some reason. Lisa probably just needed another loan, and then she—and her twins—would be on their way to the next adventure, leaving Miranda contentedly alone in her tiny apartment and her comfortable, self-centered routines.
But she knew after reading only the first line of the brief letter that nothing would ever be quite the same after this. And she didn’t for the life of her know what she was going to do about it.
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