Chapter 4 - Rules of Engagement
The next morning, the Louisiana sun broke through the storm clouds, turning the dripping oak trees into a brilliant mosaic of emerald and gold.
Mara woke up before dawn in the small, comfortable guest suite assigned to her down the hall from the boys' rooms. For the first time in months, she hadn't woken up to the sound of her landlord pounding on her apartment door or the hum of a refrigerator about to give out.
She dressed in a simple navy blue skirt and a white blouse, tying her hair back into a neat braid. When she stepped out into the hallway, the house was entirely quiet, save for the rhythmic ticking of the grandfather clock.
In the kitchen, Ruth was already brewing strong chicory coffee.
“Morning, child,” Ruth said, handing her a steaming mug without being asked. “You slept?”
“Like a stone,” Mara admitted, taking a grateful sip. “Where are they?”
“Asleep, for another twenty minutes,” Ruth said, leaning against the counter. “And Mr. Cross has already left for his office downtown. Left a note on the island for you.”
Mara walked over to the center island. Resting beside a silver fruit bowl was a heavy cardstock envelope. Inside was a crisp, handwritten note in sharp, aggressive cursive:
Miss Ellison, The advance is in the drawer. Use the black SUV in the east garage if you need to run errands with the boys. Do not let Julian near the eastern fence—the neighbor's dogs are vicious. Return by five. — D.C.
Beneath the note lay two thousand dollars in crisp hundred-dollar bills.
Mara stared at the cash. Two thousand dollars. It was more than she had earned in three months at her old bookstore job. It was enough to pay her electric bill, clear the notice from her landlord, and hire a private investigator to dig up Bryce Caldwell’s financial dirt before the court date.
A sudden rustle behind her made her turn.
Micah stood in the doorway, wearing his red pajamas, clutching a worn-out stuffed rabbit by one ear. His dark eyes blinked against the morning light.
“Are you leaving?” Micah asked, his voice small and hesitant.
Mara instantly crouched down to his eye level, sliding the envelope into her pocket. “Not a chance, Micah. I’m right here. But today, we have a mission. We are going to make actual pancakes, and then we are going to see about getting you boys some proper art supplies that don't involve orange juice.”
Micah stared at her for a long moment, then slowly—almost imperceptibly—a tiny smile touched the corner of his lips.
“Can we make chocolate chip ones?” Micah asked.
“Only if you promise to share with your brothers,” Mara smiled.
May you like
By 8:00 a.m., the kitchen was filled with the sweet, buttery scent of vanilla and sizzling batter. Julian, Leo, Toby, and Micah sat around the table in an orderly fashion that would have made the previous nannies weep with professional jealousy.
For the first time in years, Crossmoor House felt less like a fortress and more like a home.
