“You fainted,” Flick said, seeming delighted. “That was cool.”

“I’ve never seen anyone faint before,” said Caroline. The sight of Addie going down, even for mere seconds, had rattled her. It was frightening to see how utterly vulnerable a little child was.

“Fairly common,” the nurse told her. “We’ll keep an eye on her. So she hasn’t done this before?”

“Did I get the shot?” Addie asked, blinking.

The nurse checked her pulse and pupils. “Not yet. You’re doing really well. Let’s try again.”

Addie’s chin trembled. “Okay,” she whispered.

“I’ll hold you tight.” Caroline slid her arms around the little girl, and her heart warmed with sympathy and affection. “I’m proud of you, Addie. Let’s look at each other while Miss Connie does the shot. She’s super quick.”

The needle darted in. Addie yelped but held still, and within a split second, it was done. Then it was Flick’s turn, and he made a horrible face but endured the shot.

“You were brave,” she told Flick. “I’m proud of you.”

He watched the nurse expertly apply a cowboy Band-Aid.

The nurse inspected a rash under Flick’s arm. “You’ve got a bit of dermatitis. You can get some cream from the pharmacy next door,” she said, writing down the name of it.

“Thanks,” said Caroline. Her kid had dermatitis. Jeez. “We’ll do that right away.”

The nurse stepped out. Caroline helped the kids straighten their clothing.

“Mama was chicken,” Flick said. “She was scared all the time.”

Caroline froze. “What do you mean? Scared of what?”

The little boy shrugged. “Of everything. She was scared to talk.”

“To talk? About what?”

“She just was. She’d tell us, ‘Don’t talk, don’t say anything.’”

“Flick, do you know why?”

He stared off into the distance for a moment. “She was just a scaredy-cat.”

“Now, I don’t happen to agree with you. Your mama was very brave. Let me tell you about the first time I met her.”

Both children came to attention. Despite their confusion, they were hungry for stories about their mother. Caroline was determined to keep Angelique alive in their memories. “I was just getting started, and I had one of those rolling racks with my very best designs to show. Some guy grabbed my bag and ran off—and guess who stopped him?”

“Mama,” Addie whispered. “Maman.”

Caroline nodded, remembering the extraordinary moment. “I had no idea who she was at the time. She was walking toward the venue with a group of models, and when I yelled out, she took off after the guy. She was as tall and fast as Wonder Woman. She caught up with the guy and grabbed hold of my bag. He was so scared, he dropped it and kept running. And that was the moment your mom became one of my best friends in the world.”

“You’re making that up,” Flick said.

“Nope. It happened just like I said. I’m not making it up.” Caroline touched his cheek. “And that’s the mama I want you to remember.”

In the pharmacy, she picked up the lotion and stood waiting while a pair of women huddled behind the counter, ignoring her. “He’s so hot,” one of them said.

“So freakin’ hot. I have such a mad crush on him.”

“He’s the high school football coach,” the first woman said. “Did you know that?”

“No. God, that makes him hotter. Is he dating anyone?”

“Honey, he’s dating everyone.” She fanned herself with a pharmacy bag. Then she filed it on a rack marked J and finally turned to Caroline. “Can I help you?”

She flushed, wondering if it was true, if Will Jensen was dating everyone.

“Will!” Flick piped up. “Hey, Coach Will!” He and Addie rushed to see him as he entered the shop. Caroline’s flush grew warmer. She ran into Will all the time, but for some reason, she was surprised to see him whenever it happened. Particularly looking the way he did now, his face alarmingly rashy and swollen.

She peered at him. “Are you all right?”

“Yeah. Does it look bad?”

“You’re all swollen.”

“You should see the other guy. And by other guy, I mean wasp nest.”

Addie and Flick studied him with wide-eyed, sober expressions.

“Oh. A wasp nest? Yikes.”

“I’ll be fine,” he said. “I need to pick up a prescription for the swelling.” He turned to the kids and hunkered down close. “It’s gonna take a lot of medicine to get me back to my usual beautiful self.”

Addie put forth a hesitant hand, gently touching his chin. “Does it hurt?”

“Not anymore.”

“We got shots and I fainted,” Addie said.

He regarded her solemnly. “Wow. But you’re okay now.”

“I got germatitis,” Flick said.

“Dermatitis.” Caroline patted her bag with the lotion. “These kids are a new adventure every day.”

“We were good at the doctor, so we’re getting a dog,” Flick announced.

“I said ‘we’ll see,’” Caroline corrected him.

“That’s code for a reluctant yes,” Will said. “Trust me, I know these things.”

Both kids rounded on her. “Yes means yes,” Addie said.

“And ‘we’ll see’ means we’ll see. How about we go to the shelter and see if there’s a dog that might work for us? Because we might not—”

“We will! We will!” Flick danced a little jig.

“See what you started?” she asked Will.

“I know. I’m awesome.”

“Come with us,” she said, an impulse taking hold. “I need a second opinion.” There were quite a few moments, she realized, when she wished she had a partner in this parenting gig. Her sister Virginia often said as much. She didn’t miss her cheating ex, but she did miss having someone to talk to about Fern.

“Yes! Come with us, come come come.” Flick danced around him.

Caroline sent Will a pleading look. “The pet rescue place?”

“I’ll meet you there,” Will said. “Let’s hope my ugly mug doesn’t scare the critters.”

Outside the Peninsula Pet Rescue Society, Caroline tried to temper the kids’ expectations. “Listen, we might not find the right dog today. Sometimes you have to keep coming back until you find the best match.”

“Did you check out other kids before you picked us?” asked Flick.

“What? No.” Christ, she thought. “Why would you even think such a thing?”

“Sometimes you gotta take what you get.” He ducked his head, but she caught his mischievous grin.

“Cheeky,” she said.

As soon as Will arrived, they all went in together. Flick and Addie were nearly beside themselves as Caroline filled out an adoption form on a clipboard.

“Be still,” she said to Flick. “I need to finish this before we can visit the dogs.”

“When we adopt our dog, does that mean we get to keep him forever?” asked Addie.

“Sure,” said Caroline. “Forever and ever. That’s why we need to find just the right match.”

“We’re not gonna be the foster family?” Addie asked.

“No, if we find the right dog, we’ll be its forever family.” Caroline felt Will watching her. She focused on filling in all the blanks.

“Rutger Peters said we’re foster kids and you could give us back anytime,” Flick said.

Caroline stopped writing. She glanced at Will, then back at Flick. “That’s not so. I’m your guardian. That’s the same as a parent. I’m going to keep you with me, safe and sound, forever.”

Will watched her thoughtfully. She could tell his prescription was already kicking in, easing the swollen wasp stings, and he looked ridiculously sweet.

“But it’s not the same as adopting,” Flick stated.

The statement was like a punch to the gut. Here they were getting ready to adopt a dog, and yet her kids were still foster children. “It’s . . . Okay, it’s the same,” she said, fumbling a bit. “Trust me, there will be no givebacks. That’s a promise. Do you trust me?”

“Are we the right kids for you?” Addie asked.

“You’re the perfect kids for me,” Caroline said. “What a silly question.”

Flick said, “Can we go see the dogs now?”

She caught Will’s eye over the kids’ heads. “Welcome to my world,” she muttered.

“I like your world just fine. Come on. I want to see the dogs, too.”

The inner sanctum of the shelter was a gauntlet of wagging tails, pleading eyes, and “look at me” yips and yaps. There were scruffy coats and smooth, big dogs and small ones, gray-muzzled seniors and agitated pups.

A volunteer introduced them to a few dogs, and they narrowed the choices to a friendly chocolate lab mix with one blind eye and a small black-and-white dog that was cautious and shy, bowing low with her tail quivering. “She was abused,” the volunteer told Caroline and Will. “But she’s come a long way, thanks to 4-H students who have been working with her every day. We think she’d be a wonderful pet for your family, Mr. and Mrs.—”

“Oh,” Caroline said, startled. “We’re not a fam—I mean, Will’s just a friend who came along . . .” She fumbled with her words, feeling a flush rise to her cheeks.