“Not especially.” Her voice, though still friendly, had cooled. “If I could use your phone to call the station in town, I’d appreciate it.”
“I’ve got gas,” he muttered.
“See, I told you Dad could fix it,” Zack said proudly. “We’ve got brownies,” he added, struggling madly for a way to get her to stay longer. “Dad made them. You can have one.”
“I thought I smelled chocolate.” She scooped Zack up and sniffed at his face. “I’ve got a real nose for it.”
Moving on instinct, Mac plucked Zack out of her arms. “You guys go get some brownies. We’ll get the gas.”
“Okay!” They raced off together.
“I wasn’t going to abduct him, Mr. Taylor.”
“Didn’t say you were.” He walked to the doorway, glanced back. “The gas is in the shed.”
Lips pursed, she followed him out. “Were you traumatized by a teacher at an impressionable age, Mr. Taylor?”
“Mac. Just Mac. No, why?”
“I wondered if we have a personal or a professional problem here.”
“I don’t have a problem.” He stopped at the small shed where he kept his lawn mower and garden tools, then said, “Funny how the kids told you where we lived, and you ran out of gas right here.”
She took a long breath, studying him as he bent over to pick up a can, straighten and turn. “Look, I’m no happier about it than you, and after this reception, probably a lot less happy. It happens that this is the first car I’ve ever owned, and I’m still a little rough on the finer points. I ran out of gas last month in front of the general store. You’re welcome to check.”
He shrugged, feeling stupid and unnecessarily prickly. “Sorry.”
“Forget it. If you’ll give me the can, I’ll use what I need to get back to town, then I’ll have it filled and returned.”
“I’ll take care of it,” he muttered.
“I don’t want to put you out.” She reached for the can and that started a quick tug-of-war. After a moment, the dimple at the corner of his mouth winked.
“I’m bigger than you.”
She stepped back and blew the hair out of her eyes. “Fine. Go be a man, then.” Scowling, she followed him around the house, then tried to fight off her foul mood as the twins came racing up. They each held a paper towel loaded with brownies.
“Dad makes the best brownies in the whole world,” Zack told her, holding up his offering.
Nell took one and bit in. “You may be right,” she was forced to admit, her mouth full. “And I know my brownies.”
“Can you make cookies?” Zeke wanted to know.
“I happen to be known far and wide for my chocolate-chip.” Her smile became puzzled as the boys eyed each other and nodded. “You come visit me sometime, and we’ll whip some up.”
“Where do you live?” Since his father wasn’t paying close attention, Zeke stuffed an entire brownie in his mouth.
“On Market Street, right off the square. The old brick house with the three porches. I rent the top floor.”
“Dad owns that,” Zack told her. “He bought it and fixed it all up and now he rents it out. We’re in real estate.”
“Oh.” She let out a long breath. “Really.” Her rent checks were mailed to Taylor Management … on Mountain View Road.
“So you live in our house,” Zack finished up.
“In a manner of speaking.”
“The place okay with you?” Mac asked.
