Chapter One

“Gammie, put your teeth in. We’re going to be late.” Kevin O’Rourke tucked his police shield in his pocket, stood in the bathroom doorway and frowned at his grandmother. She stared back defiantly, with a puckered-lip frown.

“I’m not going.”

“You’re going. You have to go, Gammie. Who’s going to take care of you when I move? You need to find a place, and Happy Acres is supposed to be one of the best.”

“It’s a hellhole.” The elderly woman crossed her arms and gave him The Look.

When he was six—hell, even now at age twenty-six—it made him pause, but right now he couldn’t allow himself to back down. He stared at her with his own version of The Look; part-Gammie, part-Drill Instructor Harris. It worked for perps and with civilians in general.

It didn’t work for Gammie. “I’m not going, so stick that in your craw and live with it, Kevin Patrick O’Rourke.”

“Gammie, I’m not going to let you blow off another appointment.” He took a step into the bathroom. If Gammie was an offender, he would have tazed her by now. But she wasn’t. She was his only family, and the woman who’d raised him from the age of ten, when his parents had been killed in an accident. She was the person he loved best, and the one who loved him best, and he only wanted what was best for her.

So tazing could be an option. It was the only way he was going to get her to visit the retirement community. God only knew how he’d get her to sign up and actually move there.

One step at a time…

“C’mon Gammie. Please? I’m only asking you to do this because I love you.”

She narrowed her eyes and exhaled. “If you loved me, you’d let me stay here. In my home.”

“I wish you could stay in your house. But you’re in the middle of nowhere.”

“I’m not in the middle of nowhere. I’m here. Exactly where I’ve been for the past sixty years!”

“Your nearest neighbor is two miles away.”

“Good. I like it that way.” She shrugged, then pushed past him and left the bathroom—and her teeth, in a glass on the edge of the sink. Kevin grimaced and scooped up the glass. Then he followed her to the kitchen to find her standing at the stove.

The gas stove. He had nightmares about it. What if she got distracted turning it on and the flame went out and…? He wasn’t just being imaginative. He was a cop. He’d seen it happen. People dead from gas inhalation. People in tiny bits from gas explosions. It wasn’t a random fear.

This time, however, she plunked the kettle over the low, blue flame. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m having a cup of tea. Sit down. I’ll make you breakfast.”

“I don’t want breakfast.” Kevin put the glass of teeth onto the table, then thought the better of it and picked it up again. “I want you to get dressed, fix your hair, put your teeth in—” He rattled them in the glass. And visit Happy Acres.”

“It sounds like a farm for old people. Except no one grows there. They only die.” Gammie shook her head. “I’m not going.”

“Gammie—”

“Did you ever see the movie ‘Soylent Green’? No.” She shuffled to the cupboard and got down two mugs. “I’m making poached eggs. Do you want white or wheat toast?”

“I want no toast. I want you to—”

Kevin’s phone dinged with a text message. He put the glass on the back of the kitchen sink and reached into his pocket.

Danny. Hey, can you come over? I need your help.

Danny Hutchins had been his best friend since Kevin had first moved to live with Gammie. He was the closest thing Kevin had to a brother—besides his police partner, Justin—and he’d do anything for Danny. Even now, in the middle of this standoff with Gammie, which wasn’t going his way anyhow. He was going to have to resort to trickery when she wasn’t expecting it, which made him sad, but not as sad as the thought of him moving away for his new job and Gammie being all alone in her house, two miles from the closest neighbor. So much could go wrong…

He sighed and pulled out one of the kitchen chairs with his foot. “Wheat toast, please.”

“Ha! I win again.” Gammie chortled and shuffled across the kitchen to the sink; she put her teeth in as Kevin texted Dan back.

Sure. What’s up? Gammie made her way to his one-cup coffee maker and popped in a pod of hazelnut; he could smell it as it brewed.

I’ll tell you when you get to my house. Brenda and I have an opportunity for a missions trip to Uganda.

Nice.

Kevin had grown up and gone into law enforcement after a stint in the military. Danny had grown up and become a pastor like his father before him. There were times that Kevin had envied Danny his close knit, loving family of siblings. And foster siblings.

He was an only child.

Maybe he could ask Danny to persuade Gammy to move to Happy Acres…after all, Kevin would do anything for him. He knew his friend would respond in kind.

So what do you need? An extra suitcase? A donation? Just ask, buddy. I’m here for you.

Good! Can you come over around seven tonight? Brenda’s making her famous meatballs.

That sealed the deal. Kevin responded with a resounding Yes! and tucked his phone away. “All right, Gammie. We won’t go.”

He could have sworn his grandmother did a little jig, but he shook his finger at her. “For today. I’m going to reschedule the appointment with Happy Acres.”

The elderly woman plunked his coffee down in front of him. “I don’t know why you’re bothering, Kevin. I’m not going to live there, so you’re just wasting your time.” She reached out and cupped his cheek with her soft, warm hand. “And I know you hate wasting time.” She gave his cheek a soft, stinging slap, then turned back to the stove. “I’m glad you got that new job. I won’t have to worry about you getting shot all the time.”

Little did Gammy know, Kevin thought, his new job was with the FBI. She’d worry more than ever once she found out. He just needed to find the right time to tell her. Maybe after he got her settled in Happy Acres. The sooner, the better.

…

“I’m sorry, Samantha, but you don’t have the experience we’re looking for.”

The tall, thin, made-up woman on the other side of the conference room table gazed at Sam through extra-long, fake eyelashes.

Sam grit her teeth. Stay pleasant, she told herself. Be polite. “I’m sorry, but I disagree,” she said. “I’ve been a foster kid. I know the system. I’ve seen things that would—” make you puke all over your fancy shoes—“curl your hair. How is it that I don’t have the experience you’re looking for, when I’ve lived it?”

“That might be the case—”

“It is the case.”

“Be that as it may, you don’t have the experience we’re seeking.” The social worker supervisor stood on those high heels. A waft of perfume came Sam’s way, along with a not-unpleasant rattle from a slew of metal charm bracelets.

“I have a degree. What more do you want?”

“You have an Associate’s Degree. You don’t have a Master’s. At the very least, we want a Bachelor’s degree.”

“I’m working on that now.” Sam stayed seated, even though Tall and Skinny were making all the “the interview is over” gestures.

“That’s good. We’ll keep your resume on file. You can contact us when you’ve graduated.” Tall and Skinny put her hand on the doorknob and pointedly opened the door.

“Yeah, right,” Sam muttered. Then she winced as the woman blinked her eyes in a startled flutter.

“Excuse me?”

“Nothin’.” Sam slammed her notebook shut then shoved it into her backpack. Why bother being polite when Tall and Skinny wasn’t being polite, either? “It doesn’t matter anyway.”

The woman paused, shut the door quietly, then turned to face her. “You know, Samantha,” the woman said, “there was a reason I brought you in for an interview, in spite of the fact that you don’t have a Bachelor’s.”

“Yeah, I know. My foster brother talked you into it, right?” Sam rolled her eyes.

Tall and Skinny blinked again. “Well, yes, that was part of it. But it was your cover letter.” She tilted her head. “You’re right. You do have experience of the foster system that we don’t usually have. Insider information. And it was clear in your cover letter that you have a big heart and huge passion for helping others. Especially children.”

“Then what’s the problem? Why won’t you give me a job?” Sam stood up.

“For one thing, it’s the way you’re dressed.”

Sam looked herself up and down. “I look all right. I guess. I mean, I’m dressed.”

“You’re wearing jeans.”

“I just came from work.” Sam muttered and shuffled her feet. Her sneakers squeaked on the tile floor. Oops.

“You smell like wet dog.” The woman wrinkled her nose.

“Well…yeah. I’m a pet sitter and dog groomer. It’s on my resume, under Experience.”

“You know, a lot of what we do here is advocacy. We’re in the public eye. We’re in courtrooms, speaking to judges and lawyers. We’re talking to parents and police officers. We have a role to play and we need to dress the part. We can’t just schlep in smelling like Fido and wearing jeans and Keds.”

“I know that,” Sam said, and her cheeks grew hot. “It’s just…” She knew she shouldn’t say it, but she couldn’t help herself. “I don’t have a lot of money, you know? Once I get a job, a full-time job, I will, but…”

Tall and Skinny thinned her lips and shook her head. “You could have borrowed an outfit.”

She hadn’t thought of that.

“In my opinion, there were things you could have done to show you really want this job besides just showing up. Because ultimately, ‘just showing up’ isn’t an option for these kids, Samantha.”

“Yeah, I know.” Sam stuck her hands into her pockets and scuffed her squeaky sneakers again. Tall and Skinny was right. You couldn’t just show up, not if you were a good social worker, anyway.

“Maybe, once you’ve gotten your Bachelors and had more time with internships and practicum, you’ll gain some polish. And then, Samantha, you might be able to do the job even without the Masters. But right now? You’re not ready.”

“I guess you’re right,” Sam said, and sighed.

Tall and Skinny raised her penciled brows an opened the door and gestured for Sam to move into the hall. She followed behind. “I can give you a place to start,” she said. “You need to dress properly. It would be nice if you learned to speak professionally—without attitude too.”

“Okay. Sorry. But I mean…are there actually people who teach you how to talk right and crap?” Sam shook her head. “I can barely afford my rent, or my tuition, and now I need to get a makeover and find a teacher to teach me to talk, too?”

“Well, that’s part of your education. If you really want the job, you’ll find a way.” Tall and Skinny dropped her off at the elevator. She pushed the button, then held out a manicured hand. Sam took it and shook it, noting that it was soft, with no calluses. Or Band Aids, for that matter. “Good luck, Samantha,” the social worker said.

“Thanks.” Sam said. “You too.”

The door opened; she got on the elevator and watched Tall and Skinny standing there, all pulled together and employed as the doors closed. Like doors closing on a dream, she thought.

As she walked to the bus stop, Sam thought about what the woman had said. She knew it was true. She looked like a college kid. Worse, she looked like a community college kid, not even a four-year-college kid. Because that’s what she was.

She sat down on the bench under the bus stop shelter to wait for the bus, and dug into the front pocket of her backpack for her phone. Sam turned it on; it pinged repeatedly with notifications and messages. When it finally grew quiet, she flicked her thumb over the screen to reveal the list of messages. Many of them were responses to her ad on Craigslist for a dog sitter/dog walker, which was good. She needed the money, especially since she knew she wasn’t getting a real job in her field anytime soon.

She scrolled through the list of texts; her attention finally landed on one in particular. How did you make out? What’s the good news?

Her throat clenched. Danny. Always optimistic. I suck. Oops. That’s probably one of those words I shouldn’t use. Oh…eff it. She shook her head. That’s the only news I have to share.

Oh no! Danny texted back immediately. What happened?

It’s a long story.

Come over tonight for dinner. Brenda’s making meatballs and pasta. We’ll talk.

Sam’s mouth watered at the thought of Brenda’s meatballs. But she knew if she went to her sort-of-brother’s house, she’d fall apart. And she didn’t want to do that. Not in front of Danny and Brenda. They’d be so nice—so helpful. So sympathetic.

She didn’t want sympathy, she wanted a job. She also wanted to rant, and throw things, and eat food that was bad for her, then lie on her mattress on the floor of her crappy apartment and stream movies on her phone. So she typed, That sounds good, but no thanks. I have something to do.

A twinge of guilt almost made her not send the text. Her thumb even stilled on the touchpad, but then she shrugged her shoulders and made herself press send. She loved Danny and Brenda, but it was time to cut the cord and just live on her own, as unattractive as that sounded.

But then, Danny replied with the only thing he could say that she couldn’t refuse, no matter how miserable she felt: Actually, Brenda and I need your help and we were hoping to discuss it tonight over dinner.

Crap. She owed Danny everything. After all, he’d even gotten her an interview for her dream job—in spite of her lack of experience. She took a deep breath. Okay. I’ll be there.

Great! Danny texted back. Grayson is looking forward to seeing his Aunnie Dam. Come over around five so he can see you before we put him down for bedtime.

A smile broke out over Sam’s face before she even realized she was about to smile. Danny and Brenda’s baby boy was so cute. Plus, she was his aunt, a real gift for someone who’d had no family at all thirteen years earlier. Good! She typed. I’ll be there.

She wondered what they wanted her help with—if it was help with Grayson, it would be the best thing that happened to her in a very long time.

…