a friend with the flu and needed her advice on what to buy at the grocery store. Also, what would be appropriate to serve a four-year-old for dinner.
With that he glanced at the girl. “Say hi, Maggie.”
Still wide-eyed and clutching her stuffed, white cat, Maggie licked her lips. “Hi,” she whispered tentatively.
“That was Maggie,” he said helpfully.
“Uh, hi, Maggie. Nice to talk to you.” His assistant’s tone of voice warned him that he would be getting a major third degree when he saw her in the morning.
“Do you even know where the grocery store is?” Brenda asked when she’d recovered from her shock.
“I have a fair idea. I was thinking of soup and juice. Liquids for the flu, right?”
“Uh, yeah, that’s right. As for dinner for the little one, there are lots of options. Rule number one is the less sugar the better. Are you cooking or heating?”
Ten minutes later he had a list along with instructions. Brenda cleared her throat. “Are they going to be staying with you for a few days?”
“Yes. Why?”
“If the mother isn’t feeling well, then she won’t be up to watching her child. Maggie, do you have a preschool you go to?”
The little girl beamed at being included in the conversation. “Uh-huh. Right by Mommy’s school. I stay there until two.”
“Ashley is a student at the University of Washington,” he clarified.
“Which means she’ll be missing class while she’s sick.”
He heard Brenda writing on a pad of paper. “Can we send someone to sit in for her?” he asked.
“Sure, but I need her schedule of classes first. Some lecture notes are available online. Also, Maggie will need a sitter for the afternoon. I can arrange that. What’s your student friend’s name?”
“Ashley Churchill. She works for us.”
There was a moment of silence. Jeff could practically see Brenda’s surprise. She knew everyone who worked for Ritter/Rankin Security.
“The cleaner?”
“Yes.”
“How did you meet her?” She coughed. “Sorry. It’s not any of my business, of course. I’ll get on all of this and call you later tonight.”
“Thanks, Brenda. I appreciate the effort.”
His assistant laughed. “No problem. You know I’m desperate to break into the spy business. There has to be a market for fifty-something operatives. Finding this information will be good practice.”
“I’d be lost without you in the office. I can’t afford to let you go into the field.”
“So you keep saying. But I think you’re just being kind and trying to not hurt my feelings. Oh, well. I’ll call you later, Jeff. Bye, Maggie.”
“Bye,” Maggie piped back.
Jeff disconnected the call, then wondered how Brenda could ever be foolish enough to think of him as kind.
Chapter Three
“They’re very good,” Maggie said earnestly.
They stood in the cereal aisle of the large grocery store just down the hill from Jeff’s house. He’d never been inside in all the time he’d lived in the neighborhood. He doubted Maggie had been here, either, yet she led the way like an expert, wielding her miniature shopping cart around other patrons, calling out names of favorite brands and making decisions with the ease of an executive. Now she held out a box of Pop-Tarts and gave him a winning smile.
“I had them at Sara’s house. Her mom fixed them for us. She said only kids could eat something that purple.” Her smile broadened. “I said that the purple is the best part.”
He looked doubtfully at the picture on the box. It showed a toaster pastry covered with vivid purple frosting. Just the thought made his stomach tighten. In this case, he’d have to side with Sara’s mom.
“You really want those?” he asked, not sure how that was possible.
Maggie nodded vigorously, making her dark curls dance around her head.
“Does your mother buy these for you?”
Big blue eyes suddenly turned away from him. She became intensely interested in the contents of her cart, rearranging the three frozen kid meals he’d bought her. Finally she returned her gaze to him and slowly shook her head.
“No.”
Outside of his abilities, he didn’t count on very much in the world, but he would have bet his life that Maggie Churchill was incapable of lying—whether because of her age, her character, her upbringing or a combination of the three. He didn’t think he’d ever met anyone like her before.
“Would you really eat them if we got them?”
Questions filled her eyes. Questions and hope. She practically vibrated her assent.
“All right.” He tossed the package into her tiny cart. “If you’re sure.”
She gazed at him as if he’d just created a rainbow right there in the grocery store. She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around his legs and squeezing tight.
“Thank you,” she said fervently. “I’ll be good. I promise.”
He hadn’t known she could be anything but.
They continued their shopping, going up and down each aisle. Jeff found that buying bread for sandwiches also meant buying something to go in between the slices of bread. Maggie favored peanut butter and jelly. He thought her mother might appreciate something more along the lines of sliced turkey or beef. Which meant an intense discussion on mustard versus mayonnaise, and an interpretation of whether or not Maggie’s shudder at the thought of pickles meant her mother didn’t like them, either.
The girl’s cart was already full and his was nearly so when they turned the corner and found themselves in the pet food aisle. Maggie touched a can of cat food and sighed.
“Do you have a kitty?” she asked, sounding hopeful. “I didn’t see one but maybe she was asleep.”
“Sorry. No pets.”
“Why? Don’tcha like them?”
“Cats?” He’d never thought about them one way or the other. Dogs could be a problem. Dogs made noise, alerting people to the presence of intruders. More than one mission had nearly been compromised by the unexpected presence of a dog. But cats?
“I travel a lot,” he said, then hesitated. Conversing with Maggie was both easy and difficult. He didn’t mind spending time in her company, which
