Maggie gave her a mock salute as she moved on to the next table.
Beside her, Jackie said, “It’d take a talented surgeon to retrieve the stick up her ass. It must have worked its way up to her throat by now.”
Maggie snorted and bumped her shoulder into Jackie’s in silent thanks.
“I’ve decided Ava owes me,” Leah announced. She sat in a folding chair, clinking two of the holiday cheese knives together absently, tiny chin propped on one tiny upraised fist. “She’s off on a New Orleans honeymoon while I sell her old kid shoes to people who won’t even look at us.”
She sat up straight and clapped her hand over her mouth, turning to give Maggie a wide-eyed look over her shoulder.
“It’s okay.” Maggie laughed. “She told me they got married.”
“Oh, thank God.” Leah sagged back into her slump. “I didn’t want to be the bean-spiller.”
Maggie didn’t miss the way Carter looked over at them sharply from his place propped against a tent pole.
“They got married?”
She nodded.
His expression wasn’t a smile, but it wasn’t a frown either. “Good,” he said. “He should have stepped up a long time ago.”
Maggie smiled. “You think so?”
“Don’tyou?”
“Well yes, but it’s established that I’m a bad mother.”
Leah and Carter rolled their eyes as a unit, with identical “ugh” sounds.
“Excuse me,” an unfamiliar voice said.
Maggie almost fell off her chair when she saw a potential customer standing at their front table, examining Mina’s collection of old baby clothes. She jumped up to her feet with too much enthusiasm and said, “Yes, can I help you?”
The woman was young, probably Ava’s age, dressed in a faded blue sweater and jeans, very thin save the small baby bump filling out the sweater in front. She was pale, dark-haired, and had frightened eyes, when she lifted them to Maggie’s face. “How much are these outfits?” she asked in a timid voice.
Maggie had the feeling her meekness was natural, and not a reaction to the banner overhead. She felt a softening for this young mother-to-be, reminded of her own daughter, wondering if Ava would come back from the swamp with a tiny burden of her own.
“Tell you what,” she said, “how ‘bout five bucks for the whole lot of them.”
The girl’s pale eyes widened in shock. “But…”
There had to be at least twenty little outfits laid out, complete with matching shoes.
“Five bucks,” Maggie said, smiling, “and I’ll know they went to a good home.”
The girl nodded, reaching into her purse for a crumpled five as Maggie and Leah bagged the clothes.
“My name’s Maggie,” she said, as she handed the bags over to the girl. “Maggie Teague. My husband’s the president of the Lean Dogs MC. If you ever need any help, you feel free to give me a call.” And in one slick move, passed a business card into the girl’s hand.
The girl nodded, a faint smile touching the corners of her mouth. “Thank you so much.”
When she was gone, Maggie sank back down onto her chair. “It’s not much, but it’s a start in the goodwill department.”
The boys showed up around nine-thirty. Maggie left the tent to meet Ghost. As she leaned in to kiss him, she whispered, “You look scary as hell, which, I’m guessing, isn’t the vibe you were going for.”
He scowled as he pulled back, which only furthered the effect of his all-black and shades and perma-frown.
“What’s wrong with the way I look?”
