Thursday, 7 February
11:04 a.m.
“Hey, Jillian, come up here for a second,” Caleb shouted from upstairs.
“Sweetie, I’ve got four test mini-pies in the oven, and I’m palms-deep in dough!” Jillian called back. “Not only that, Mary is here, going over last week’s sales figures. Can it wait another five minutes?”
Sighing, she rolled her eyes at Mary Barnum—Life of Pie’s store manager—who was tapping on a calculator with one hand while gently rocking the sleeping Scotty’s infant carrier with the other.
“Um… No, not really!” he countered.
They could hear him clumping down the stairs. When he appeared in the kitchen, he had on the bottom half of his National Parks uniform—a pair of khaki slacks—but he was shirtless.
Noting his broad, tanned shoulders and six-pack abs, Mary grinned, then let loose with a low appreciative whistle.
He had a twin in each arm. Both were certainly grumpy.
After nodding hello to Mary, he walked over to Jillian. “Hey, have you noticed how lethargic the girls seem? Take a look at their faces. What do you suppose those little spots might be?”
Jillian was about to wipe her hands on her apron, but stopped to take a good look. “Oh, no! The girls have chickenpox!”
Caleb frowned. “That’s not good.”
“They’ve had their shots, so it shouldn’t be bad.” She glanced at Scotty. “But Scotty is too young for the shot, so we should definitely keep them away from him. Caleb, you’ve got to do what you can to keep them upstairs.”
“Sure—for the next fifteen minutes. But after that, I’ve got to head out to my shift at the Presidio. This was supposed to be your day off, remember?”
“Don’t remind me,” Jillian muttered.
The chime of the doorbell rang through the house.
Jillian shook her head in frustration. “Now, who could that be?”
She was halfway down the hallway when Mary exclaimed, “Oh! Um…I think Scotty just had a little accident.”
Jillian shouted back, “You don’t mind changing his diaper, do you?”
“But I’ve…I’ve never…” She shrugged. “Well, I guess there’s a first time for everything…”
Jillian shook her head helplessly. But by then, she’d already reached the door—
Only to open it to Judge Marsh.
Jillian gasped, “Oh! …Hello!” She put out her hand.
Judge Marsh stared at it, but didn’t take it.
When Jillian looked down at her hand, she realized why: it was still covered in flour. Quickly, she wiped it on her apron.
“Is now a bad time?” the judge asked.
“Yes. I mean, no! It’s just that I…we…weren’t expecting you.”
“That’s odd since I sent a confirmation letter.” Judge Marsh frowned.
“Oh? I’m so sorry! I didn’t see it.” From behind Jillian, one of the twins was crying. “Please, come in.” She stepped aside so that the judge could do so.
As they entered the foyer, the judge gazed beyond the hall and into the living room.
Jillian flinched. The twins’ toys, books, and crayons were strewn all over the room. They’d pulled an old comforter over the coffee table in order to make a house. Every pillow on the couch had somehow found its way onto the floor.
“Excuse the mess,” Jillian implored her. “The girls can be quite rambunctious.”
In the hallway, a floorboard squeaked. They turned to find Caleb, twins in hand, in a covert attempt to make his way upstairs again.
Jillian stopped him cold with a side-eye and the proclamation, “Ah, just the people I’m looking for! Caleb Martin, this is Judge Julia Marsh. She’s been so looking forward to meeting you—and Amelia and Addison, of course.”
Judge Marsh’s brow arched at Caleb’s attire—or lack thereof.
The timing could not have been worse for the twins to start bawling in unison.
No matter what Caleb said to shush them, nothing worked.
Perplexed, the judge asked, “Mr. Martin, I take it you’ve never had children?”
“No, ma’am,” Caleb admitted meekly.
“And you have no experience as a childcare worker?”
“Not many fathers do either,” he pointed out. “However, I have a double-major in Forestry and Environmental Science from University of New Hampshire.”
The judge’s nod came with a frown. “I know firsthand that it’s quite cold in New Hampshire. Frigid, some might say.”
Caleb nodded. “Indeed, it is—and indeed they do.”
Judge Marsh lowered her glasses in order to scrutinize him more thoroughly. “Up there at this time of year, there aren’t many days when one can walk around without one’s shirt.”
“Indeed, there aren’t.” Caleb glanced down at his watch. “You’ll have to excuse me. I’m late for work.”
The judge nodded. Instinctively, she patted Addison’s back. Suddenly, she frowned. “This child has a fever!” She put her palm on Amelia’s neck as well. “As does this one.”
“Yes, we know,” Jillian assured her. “We think it’s a reaction to their chickenpox vaccinations.”
“Is little Scotty also ill?”
“No,” Jillian assured her. “But because he’s too young to be vaccinated, we are keeping them away from him.” She pointed toward the kitchen.
“He’s in there, by himself?” Judge Marsh asked. She started toward the kitchen.
Scotty was there, all right—and so was Mary, whose anxious attempt at diapering the infant was failing miserably. As she tried to clean him with an already messy wipe, a stream of pee shot straight up.
Jillian ran over to her. “I’ll take care of him,” she murmured to her. Nudging Mary out of the way, she worked quickly to clean up Scotty and his mess.
“Who are you?” Judge Marsh asked the woman.
“I’m Mary! I work for Jillian.”
The judge gave Jillian a sideways gaze. “You said you had no help at home with the children.”
“I don’t!” Jillian insisted. “Mary works at my pie store.”
“Thank goodness for that,” Judge Marsh murmured.
Jillian sniffed the air. “Oh, my goodness! The pielets! They’re burning!”
Mary ran to the oven and pulled out the tray.
The pies were scorched black on top.
Judge Marsh came out with what everyone else was thinking: “This was obviously the wrong day to come. On that note, I’ll take my leave.”
Jillian started her way. “Please—it’s not always like this—”
Noting the dirty diaper in Jillian’s hand, Judge Marsh waved her off. “No need to bother. I’ll show myself out.”
She nodded to Mary and Caleb and hurried down the hall.
A cold chill ran through Jillian. Oh, my God, I’m going to lose Scotty.
It wasn’t until she’d gotten back from the doctor with the girls—who confirmed that, yes, they were dealing with chickenpox—that she found Judge Marsh’s missing letter: in Addison’s toy cubby.