Building this house had been Stone’s first project as a licensed contractor. Kyle had insisted he take the job, even though he’d only recently been licensed. Heading up the project on this house had changed so much for Stone, both personally and professionally. He’d had a concrete example of his work to use during bids, which led to the Victorian remodel for Rafael and their subsequent partnership. However, the personal effect this house had on his life meant even more. The addition of every nail and board had drawn him closer to his brother. For twelve years they’d been estranged, but it took only a handful of months to forgive, to reconnect, to become brothers again. Now it was as if those twelve years of separation had never happened. Kyle was his big brother. They were a family as they’d always wanted to be now that Autumn had moved to Cliffside Bay. This town, this house, represented their second chance. With the bonus of Violet and the four children, Stone felt grounded. For the first time, he felt that they were all where they were supposed to be.
He hoped like hell the reappearance of their mother didn’t cause a rift among the three of them. After all the healing that had transpired between them, it would break his heart if they lost one another again.
As a child he’d loved to work with wood. His hands and mind, so restless in the classroom, had calmed while sanding a piece of wood or repairing a leak in the roof of their trailer. The smell of sawdust or plaster was the scent of contentment. On the bus ride home from school, he’d stared out the window at the homes of the other children. Kyle, too, had studied them, but with an envy that fueled his ambition. He vowed to one day have a home of his own. Whereas Stone observed them with curiosity. How had it been constructed? What material and labor went into building that shingled roof or wraparound porch? Could he someday be the person who made something so beautiful?
The path to that dream proved circuitous, including multiple tours in Afghanistan and ten years in the Marines. Autumn had been the one to convince him it was time to leave the military and pursue a career as a contractor. He hadn’t regretted it for a moment. Although he didn’t do all the work himself, he spent many days working side by side with the construction staff. He fell asleep at night physically fatigued and his mind content, knowing he’d spent his day doing honest work with the talents God had granted him.
The work he and his partners were doing filled him with pride. Wolf Enterprises made spaces in which families would make memories. A house was not just the materials it was constructed from, but a space where love lived. The walls of their homes would witness babies’ first steps. Kitchen islands would host countless nights of homework. Pasta sauce made in one of their kitchens would soothe the sting of a teenager’s first breakup. Footsteps running up a stairway would tell a father his son had returned home safely from a school dance.
He’d noticed during his thirty years on earth that most unhappiness came from yearning for what one didn’t have instead of gratitude for what one had. Stone understood his gifts were simple, but they were his. How he chose to use them defined his life, gave it purpose and meaning. He understood many men, including his brother, would not consider his work interesting or fulfilling. Men like Kyle were inspired by the thrill of the deal—the esteem that came from being a man in the power seat. They were men who wore red ties. Not Stone. He was a faded jeans and calloused hands kind of man. And that suited him just fine.
He walked across the manicured yard to the front door, admiring the two redbud trees Nico had planted at the base of the front steps. The wooden swing Stone had hung from the branch of an old oak swayed in the breeze. Fall mums in pots bloomed in cheery red on the front porch.
He didn’t bother ringing the bell. Violet was expecting him, so he let himself in, shutting the door behind him. Tonight, the house smelled of baby powder, pumpkin spice, bacon, and Violet’s perfume. The scent of love.
He called out. “Hello there. Anyone home?”
Dakota came running down the stairs. “Uncle Stone. You have to see my new train track.” His nephew hugged him around the legs with every ounce of his five-year-old body. “It goes all the way around the playroom now.”
Stone’s knees cracked as he knelt to Dakota’s level. “Cool.” He held up the bottle of wine. “Let me give this to your mama and then you can show me.”
Dakota nodded, his round blue eyes innocent and earnest. “Sure thing. Mama’s in the kitchen.” He lowered his voice. “Don’t say anything about the bad smell. She was making a pie and then the babies started crying and it burned all up.”
“I don’t smell anything bad.”
“Wait until you get in the kitchen,” Dakota said. “Just pretend like it smells completely normal.”
“I won’t say a word.” He made a zipping motion over his mouth.
Dakota slipped his hand into Stone’s. “Between you and me, those babies are a lot of trouble.”
“The twins or all three of them?” Stone asked as they walked down the hallway to the kitchen.
Dakota shook his blond head in obvious disgust. “All three of them. I’m the only one who isn’t crying my head off every other minute.”
He stifled a laugh as they entered the large, modern kitchen. The air did smell faintly of burned pie. As promised, he kept that to himself.
“Mama, Uncle Stone’s here,” Dakota said.
“Hello, Uncle Stone.” Violet gave him a quick smile and wave before returning to the pot she was stirring on the cooktop. “Hang on a minute. I don’t want my sauce to burn. I already burned the pie.” His sister-in-law wore an apron over a mint-green tunic and yoga pants. Her glossy brown hair was pulled back in a ropy braid.
Dakota smacked his forehead with the palm of his hand, as though he couldn’t believe his mother would confess after he’d gone to the trouble to warn their guest.
Three high chairs with three babies were lined up in a row on one wall of the kitchen. Mollie Blue was a little over two, with chubby pink cheeks, blond curls, and sea-blue eyes. Although they were not biological siblings, Mollie and Dakota looked like they could be, other than their personalities. Unlike his precocious nephew, Mollie was shy, docile, and attached to her mother. To Stone’s dismay, she wanted nothing to do with him. In fact, she hid her face in Violet’s legs whenever he approached.
The fifteen-month-old twins, Hope and Chance, were both dark-haired like Kyle but with the brown eyes of their mother. Now their faces were covered in avocado. As he approached, Hope screamed a word that sounded almost like his name from her high chair and held out her arms. She was the outgoing twin, always quick to giggle or ask to be chased. She loved her Uncle Stone, which rendered him a big, mushy slave to her every bidding.
A ball waited at the foot of Chance’s high chair. Chance loved anything to do with balls—throwing, kicking, chasing. Wherever Chance was, a ball was sure to be close by.
“Mama, can I show Uncle Stone my new train track?” Dakota asked.
“Have your dinner first, and then yes.” Violet pointed at a plate set on the kitchen table.
Never one to argue, Dakota climbed onto a chair and went to work on his turkey-and-vegetable dinner.
Stone kissed Hope’s head. “Did you get a haircut?”
Hope nodded and put a sticky hand on top of her stick-straight brown hair. She now had a bank of bangs. “She looks like a flapper,” he said to Violet. “And way too grown-up.”
“Her hair was hanging in her eyes,” Violet said as she turned from the stove. “I was afraid she was going to trip. And she refuses to keep a hair clip in place.”
He chuckled. “Hair clips do stifle a person, don’t they, Hope?”
In response, Hope smashed more avocado between her fingers and grinned at him. That smile went straight to his heart. She grunted, then sucked the avocado from her fingers and kicked her fat legs.
“She’s not so into her baby fork, either,” he said.
“Not nearly as efficient as fingers,” Violet said.
He kissed Chance next. He’d also had a
haircut. All the unruly baby wisps had been trimmed and tidied. “What are you doing to these babies? They look way too grown-up.”
“I know.” Violet turned from the stove. “They’re starting to look like kids, not babies.”
“You have to have more,” Stone said.
Violet grimaced. “Please, don’t even get Kyle started on that tonight. He truly wants another one.”
“He’s a madman.”
“Exactly what I told him.” Violet sighed. “Even with the help of the weekday nanny, I’m exhausted.”
“You don’t look it. You’re glowing.” His sister-in-law was a stunner with those chocolate-colored eyes and skin like toffee. She had a figure like a teenager, despite having given birth to three of her four children.
She wiped her brow with one forearm while continuing to stir her sauce. “I’m back to teaching yoga down at the dance studio. It’s been good to get out of the house.”
“Good for you.”
“I feel a little guilty about leaving the kids with Millie in the mornings, but it’s really helping my sanity.”
“Don’t feel guilty. You deserve a little time to yourself. Plus, you have to take care of you in order to take care of them.”
She waved her spoon at him. “Have you been reading Autumn’s magazines?”
He laughed. “My sister’s taught me a lot about women.” Stone leaned over to kiss Mollie’s fair head. She tucked her chin into her neck and refused to look at him. “Hi, Mollie Blue. I missed you.”
“Say hello to Uncle Stone,” Violet said.
“Hi, Uncle Stone.” Only Mollie’s mouth moved. She stared into her tray and went perfectly still, like a bunny under the gaze of a ferocious cat.
“I brought wine.” Stone set the bottle on the island.
“You didn’t need to bring anything.” Violet fiddled with the red knob on her gas cooktop, adjusting the temperature.
“I don’t smell anything but babies’ heads and enchilada sauce.”
“Very diplomatic of you.” Violet tilted her head, regarding him. “You look weird. Is something wrong?”
“No, nothing.” He would wait until Kyle and his sister were here to share his shocking news.
“Good.” Using the wooden spoon as a pointer, she gestured toward the wine. “Open that, please, and pour me a large glass.”
He went to the drawer where she kept the wine opener and used it to nudge the cork free. By the time he finished, Violet had set four wineglasses out on the table. She was like a vampire the way she could move around without making a sound. He poured each of them a glass and inquired about the whereabouts of his brother and sister.
“Autumn will be here any minute. She had to work today. Kyle’s finishing something up in his office. Some deal he’s trying to close by the end of next week.” Violet accepted the glass from his outstretched arm. “Cheers. Now sit with Dakota so you’re not in my way.”
Stone sat on the opposite side of the table from his nephew. While Violet worked at the island scooping tablespoons of enchilada meat into tortillas, she filled him in on the latest happenings with the children. The twins were into everything, including Violet’s best lipstick, which now decorated a solid square foot of the playroom’s walls. Yesterday, Mollie had managed to get her head stuck between the posts on the stairway railing. Kyle had to remove one in order to get her out. “Which took a few minutes.”
“She screamed bloody murder the entire time,” Dakota said with a disgusted shake of his head.
“She did.” Violet wiped her hands on the front of her apron. “If we had neighbors, they would’ve had us arrested.”
“What else is happening?” Stone reached across the table with his long arm and ruffled Dakota’s hair. “How’s school?”
“Fantastic. I excel at school. But Mom says not to talk about that too much in front of other people because it sounds like I’m bragging.”
“We just attended his kindergarten parent-teacher conference.” Violet continued to fill and roll tortillas, placing them side by side in a glass casserole dish.
“How did that go?” Stone asked. “I always hated conference time.” Mostly because his dad never showed up to one.
“It went awesome. Mrs. Blakely said I’m a nice young man,” Dakota said gleefully. Although Kyle wasn’t his biological father, they shared the same wolfish grin. “And that I’m the smartest in the whole class. Maybe the smartest kid she’s ever taught.”
“Dakota, what did I tell you about bragging?”
“Sorry, Mama. But she did say that. I heard my dad tell Uncle Lance.”
“Your dad was always the smartest one in his class, too,” Stone said.
“Were you?” Dakota asked.
“No. I was the strongest but dumb as a brick.”
Dakota giggled and slapped the table. “Uncle Stone, a person can’t be a brick.”
“Your uncle is not dumb as a brick,” Violet said. “He’s just being modest.”
Stone winked at Dakota and whispered under his breath, “Not really.”
“They want to move Dakota up a grade.” Violet poured the enchilada sauce over the rolled tortillas. “But I’m against it.”
“She thinks I’m too short,” Dakota said.
“I do not think you’re too short.” Violet shot Dakota a rather scary mom glare. “He misunderstood something I said to Kyle while he was eavesdropping.”
“Which I got sent to the naughty stairs for,” Dakota said with a world-weary sigh. “They never want me to hear any of the good stuff.”
“What I said to your father in a private conversation is that you’re small for your age and it would be even worse if they skipped you up a grade. You don’t want to be the smallest kid in class.”
“What do I care? I have a big fat brain, why do I need to have a big body, too?” Dakota asked.
Stone stole a glance at Violet, who had her hand over her mouth, clearly trying not to laugh.
“There’s sports to consider.” Stone took a serious tone with Dakota even though he wanted to howl with laughter. “Sports might matter to you later.”
“Right.” Violet put the enchilada casserole into the oven and set the timer. “Plus, he has so many nice friends in his class.”
“Dad says Mama’s obsessed with having friends,” Dakota said. “Even though I have no trouble making them. I’m like a magnet to other kids.”
“Dakota Hickman.” Violet clutched the collar of her blouse. “What have I done to make you so full of yourself?”
“I have good self-esteem, Mama. Just ask Mrs. Blakely.”
Stone laughed. This kid killed him. “I’ve always been a magnet to the ladies.”
“You have?” Dakota’s eyes widened.
Stone shrugged. “Totally. It’s a family trait. You’ll be the same way.”
“A magnet to the ladies is not an appropriate lifetime goal, Dakota Hicks.” Violet tossed the last of the chopped carrots into the salad bowl, then turned toward the babies. “It looks like everyone’s done with dinner and ready for baths.”
Kyle entered the kitchen. “Did I hear something about baths?”
Mollie held out her arms. “Dada.”
“Hello, baby girl,” Kyle said to his daughter.
“They’re ready for baths,” Violet said to Kyle, then mouthed the words, “Thank God.”
“Roger that,” Kyle said to his wife. He slapped Stone on the shoulder in greeting. “Welcome to the chaos.”
A few inches shorter than Stone’s six-foot-three frame and not nearly as wide, Kyle’s was a sinewy strength compared with Stone’s bulk. His older brother’s facial features were chiseled with a rougher tool than Stone’s, but they had the same stubborn square chin, thick brown hair, and intense blue eyes.
“How does this work exactly?” Stone asked. “Aren’t you guys outnumbered?”
“I take a shower,” Dakota said. “All by myself. Which helps them tremendously.” He said the last word slowly, but with am
azing diction considering his age. No wonder Mrs. Blakely thought he was a genius.
“It does help that Dakota’s growing so independent,” Violet said.
Dakota grinned at his dad, who grinned right back and then high-fived him.
“One of us does the girls and the other handles Chance.” Violet lifted Hope from her high chair and kissed her cheek. Hope giggled and kicked her legs. “Chance thinks bathing is a combat sport.”
“I get to stay up later than the babies,” Dakota said. “Thirty minutes more.” This last bit of information was followed by a satisfied smack of his lips.
“Which means you have time to show Uncle Stone your train tracks before you head to the shower,” Violet said.
Dakota jumped up from the table but halted when Violet frowned at him. “Right. Sorry, Mama.” He picked up his plate and took it to the sink.
Kyle strode across the kitchen and yanked a few paper towels from the holder. Stone watched in amazement as Kyle and Violet worked in tandem to get their children ready for the next phase of the evening. Faces and hands wiped. Trays washed. Sounds of the disposal chewing the leftover bits from dinner mingled with the babbling from the babies as they waited to be unbuckled from their chairs. Finally, they returned, unclicked their belts, and hauled them up into their arms. With one twin on each hip, Kyle led the way with Violet and Mollie following closely behind.
“Wow,” Stone said.
“I know, right?” Dakota asked. “Can you believe how much trouble they are?”
Minutes later, Stone plopped on the floor of the playroom. It was tidy and organized, and wooden boxes tucked into shelves held copious toys. Children’s books lined several shelves. Labeled plastic bins contained craft supplies. Several beanbag chairs retaining the imprint of tiny bodies filled one corner of the room. Dakota’s train track ran the circumference of the play area.
His nieces and nephews were lucky children. The cycle of poverty had been averted by his brother. From what he knew of Violet’s cold upbringing, it seemed that cycle had also been broken.
He listened to Dakota describe the tracks in detail and how he’d created a whole new section for his train to go around. “See there? It’s a new loop.” Dakota pointed. “I’m going to make a new part of town with my Legos.”
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