“Callie?” It was Pam.
Callie breathed a sigh of relief. “Are you running late?”
“Yes. I mean, no.” Pam’s tone was high, her words rushed. “I mean, I’m not running at all.”
“Whoa. Slow down. Is everything okay?”
“I fell down the front stairs.”
There were voices in the background.
“Are you hurt?” Callie asked. “Who’s there with you?”
“I twisted my ankle. My mom’s taking me to the hospital for X-rays. It’s swelling up fast.”
“I’m so sorry.” Callie’s heart went out to Pam.
Pam was an avid cyclist and tennis player. A broken ankle would be devastating for her.
“I can’t babysit tonight,” Pam said.
“Don’t worry about it. Take care of yourself.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“It’s fine. Get to the doctor. Call me when you know something, okay? And if there’s anything I can do.”
“Ouch! Mom, I can’t bend that way.”
Callie cringed in sympathy.
“I better go,” Pam said.
“Good luck,” Callie called as Pam signed off.
“Mommy, Mommy,” James shouted up from the kitchen.
“I’m coming, honey.”
The front doorbell rang.
“Ethan squirted his juice box,” James cried out.
“Ethan,” Callie admonished her youngest son as she trotted down the stairs. “You know better than to squirt.”
“Purple,” Ethan said with an unrepentant grin.
“Do you want to use a sippy cup instead?”
Ethan’s smile disappeared, and he shook his head.
The doorbell rang again.
“Then don’t squeeze,” she told him firmly.
“Can we have macaroni?” James asked, opening the refrigerator door. “With orange cheese?”
“We’ll see,” Callie said, swooping the juice box out of Ethan’s hand to set it on the counter.
“Juice box!” Ethan cried, reaching up for it.
So much for her date. Or her non-date. Whatever it was, she was sorely disappointed to miss it.
“I have to get the door,” she told James.
“Juice box!” Ethan screeched.
“You’ll have to wait a minute,” she said to Ethan, walking quickly down the hallway to the entry foyer.
She drew open the door to find Deacon on the porch.
“Hi,” he said. Then his attention was immediately drawn to Ethan’s cries from the kitchen. “Is everything okay?”
“Juice box disaster,” she said, pulling the door wide and standing out of the way. “Come on in.”
He wore a white dress shirt, a steel blue blazer and dark jeans.
“You look fantastic,” he said, closing the door behind him.
She smiled, her heart warming at the compliment. She hated to tell him the night was over before it even got started.
“I’ll be right back.” She headed for the kitchen to quiet Ethan.
He’d come up with another plan of attack and was pushing a chair toward the counter.
She retrieved the juice box. “No more squirting?” she asked him in a grave voice.
“No squirt,” he agreed, abandoning the chair to trot over to her.
“I’m hungry,” James said.
“I know.” She rubbed her hand over his tousled hair. “Pam can’t come tonight.”
Ethan took a pause in his drinking. “Pam, Pam.”
“Pam hurt her ankle,” Callie told them both. “She has to go see a doctor.”
“Does she need a bandage?” James asked. “We have horsey bandages.”
“Yes, we do,” Callie agreed.
The boys were currently big into cartoon bandages. Since they got a lot of cuts and scrapes, it was helpful that they thought of the bandages as a treat.
“The doctor will probably give her a white bandage. It might be a big one.”
“Big owie?” Ethan asked.
“I hope not,” Callie said.
She was already thinking about tomorrow morning and what she could do about work. With Pam out of commission, she was going to have a problem.
Deacon’s voice joined the conversation. “Somebody has a big owie?”
Callie turned to see him in the kitchen doorway.
Both boys fell silent and stared at Deacon.
“I didn’t mean to abandon you,” she told Deacon.
“No problem.”
“James, Ethan, this is my friend Deacon Holt.”
“Hello,” James said.
Ethan stayed silent.
Deacon stepped into the kitchen and crouched on his haunches. “Hello, James. Hi, Ethan. You probably don’t remember, but I saw you at Downright Sweet last week. You were having cookies.”
“Color candies,” Ethan said.
“That’s exactly what you had.”
“I had peanut butter,” James said.
“I had a warm monster cookie,” Deacon said.
“Purple juice,” Ethan said, holding up his juice box as proof.
“I see that.” Deacon’s gaze took in the purple streak that ran across the white patterned linoleum.
“Oh,
