a father.”
“Neither did I until yesterday.”
“How old are they?” Holly was as fascinated as she was astonished.
“Three and a half. They’re twins—a girl and a boy.”
“Is their mother there, too?” She hadn’t heard a woman speaking.
“No, she’s deceased. I learned that yesterday, too, from the great-aunt who delivered the children.”
“‘Delivered’ them? You mean she just brought them and left them?”
“You got it.”
“Graham, this is the most bizarre story I’ve ever heard!” Holly exclaimed.
“Tell me about it. Sorry to be abrupt, but I’d better hang up before these two hurt each other.” He said a terse goodbye and cut the connection.
“Poor guy!” she sympathized out loud. “What a predicament!” Holly sat there a few moments, flooded with sympathy and trying to imagine what it would feel like to be in his shoes. One minute a single man with only himself to worry about and the next minute a daddy with twins.
Graham had come across as desperate and downright depressed, understandably. His life had been thrown into a turmoil and he didn’t seem to be coping very well. It would be criminal of Holly to go about her business today and not play Good Samaritan, especially since she’d had quite a bit of experience dealing with children during her teenage years. Baby-sitting had been her main source of extra spending money.
I’ll go over to Graham’s place and help him out for a few hours, Holly decided.
Generosity was her main motivation, but she was also dying of curiosity to meet his offspring!
The decision made, Holly briefly considered calling Graham back and alerting him that he should expect her. Then she scratched that plan and decided simply to appear at his door. Fortunately, she’d been inquisitive enough to note his address when she was stuffing raffle ticket stubs into envelopes for the drawing.
The drive from her house in the village of Madisonville to Graham’s condo near the lake in Mandeville took Holly between fifteen and twenty minutes. At ten o’clock she was ringing his doorbell.
Graham jerked the door open in midact of shoving his free hand through dark brown hair that already was rumpled. He wore a T-shirt tucked into his unbelted jeans, and athletic shoes. Despite the dark circles under his eyes that suggested he hadn’t slept well, despite his harried expression, Holly found him as ruggedly good-looking as ever.
“Holly,” he said blankly. His gaze took in her jeans and T-shirt and athletic shoes. Holly’s body hummed pleasurably in response to his inspection, the way it always did when she was around him.
“Hi. I came to give you some moral support,” she announced cheerfully. “On the phone you sounded pretty rattled.”
“This is hell.” He rubbed his forehead roughly with his palm. “Sheer hell.”
“The TV’s been turned up loud again,” Holly observed. She could hear the soundtrack of a cartoon show blaring inside the condo.
“They insist on playing it loud enough to burst their eardrums. When I turn it down, they turn it back up again.”
“Did you try taking away the remote?”
“Yes. I tried that,” he confirmed wearily. “But they scream and yell like a couple of banshees when they don’t get their way. I’m afraid the neighbors will call the police. So I gave the remote back to them to shut them up.
“God, you should see the inside of my condo. It looks like vandals have struck. I was cleaning up the kitchen when you rang the doorbell. Cereal and milk all over the place. Broken dishes. These two kids are monsters disguised as children, Holly. Monsters.”
“Can I come in? I’ll give you a hand with the kitchen.”
He hesitated before saying, “Sure. But enter at your own risk.”
Even in a state of emergency he had his qualms about admitting her into his condo. Holly ignored her little stab of hurt for the time being. She smiled and stepped inside the foyer, commenting, “Three-and-a-half-year-olds can’t be that dangerous.”
The trained decorator in her automatically noticed and approved the décor of his condo. Mexican tile floor in the foyer gave way to oatmeal-colored carpet in the living area. Soft white walls, striking artwork, glove-soft brown leather upholstery, natural finishes on wooden furniture. Tasteful, comfortable, and masculine.
It was an adult environment. The toys strewn about the living room looked totally out of place as did the two children lying on their stomachs in front of a thirty-six-inch TV housed in a handsome built-in entertainment 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
