Daddy Next Door

“You’ve only lived with her today?”

“Yes. Steffi said she skewed us,” Missy said carefully.

“She skewed you? I don’t understand what that means.”

“You know, like when Superman skews a baby. He saves her.”

Ah, rescue, he reasoned. But how had Jennifer rescued these precious children? Treading carefully so as not to bring a second child to tears, he decided to back into his questions.

“So you watch Superman?” he asked.

“Yes, my last mommy played it on the television a lot. Superman skewed somebody every time—”

“So you’re saying your new mommy rescued you?” he asked, sparing Missy a glance.

“Yeah, that’s what Steffi said.”

He stirred the sauce as he watched the spaghetti boil. When he checked the spaghetti again, it appeared to be ready. He found a metal colander sitting in the sink, ready for him to pour the spaghetti and boiling water in it, so he did so. Steam rose in the air.

“Is that smoke?” Missy asked casually. “Jennifer says smoke is dangerous.”

“No, it’s steam. That’s a little different, but it can also hurt you if you’re not careful.” He wondered what he should do now.

Hearing a noise in the hallway, he turned in that direction. The blonde reappeared in the doorway. The adult blonde, that is. Jennifer. All three little girls were also blond. But then he’d originally thought Jennifer was their birth mother. Not according to Missy.

“Why are you still here?” Her demand wasn’t exactly welcoming, but he realized she was under a little stress.

“I thought I could lend a hand. Especially since it appears I caused part of the problem.”

“Part?” she said, giving him a direct look.

For the first time he noticed she had gorgeous blue eyes to go with the blond hair.

“I didn’t volunteer to be anyone’s daddy by just coming in the door, did I?”

“I guess not,” she said, not sounding happy about having to admit it.

“How’s Steffi?” he asked, afraid she was about to tell him to leave. He was strangely reluctant to do so.

Steffi peeked at him from behind her new mommy.

“She’s fine.”

“I’m glad. I didn’t mean to upset you,” he said to the little girl.

She nodded, then hid behind the woman.

“Well, the spaghetti is ready, and the sauce, too. And, hey, you’ve got hamburger meat in your sauce, you lucky girls!” he joked. During college, he hadn’t been able to afford meat for his spaghetti.

“You finished cooking it?” Jennifer asked in consternation. “I didn’t intend— That’s very kind of you. Uh, would you like to join us?”

Missy perked up at that invitation. “Yeah! You can have the daddy seat!”

“Missy, no, Mr. Barry is not the daddy. He’s a guest. We’ll welcome him to his new apartment and thank him for his assistance. Well?” she asked, looking at him again.

“Only if you’ll promise to call me Nick. I don’t like formality.”

She took a deep breath and he feared she was going to refuse, leaving him no option but to decline her invitation. And he didn’t want to do that.

“Of course, Nick. Steffi, can you and Annie get everyone a knife, fork and spoon?”

“Yes, Jennifer,” the oldest girl said.

“Is there anything I can do?” Nick asked.

“No, we’ll manage. You can entertain Missy.”

Nick grinned. He’d already entertained the little girl, but he settled in at the table beside her. “Looks like it’s you and me, Missy.”

“You and me what?”

“You and me who don’t have a job. We just get to watch.”

“Oh, yeah. I’m too little. But you’re old. How come you don’t have a job?”

Nick stifled a laugh. “Because I’m your guest.”

“Oh.” Missy rested her chin on her hands and seemed deep in thought.

“Is iced tea okay, Nick?” his hostess asked.

“Yes, that’ll be fine. Uh, Missy said your name is Jennifer?”

“Yes, I’m sorry, I forgot to introduce myself. I’m Jennifer Carpenter, and these are my three daughters, Steffi, Annie and Missy, whom I believe you met earlier.”

“Definitely. Hello, girls. You sure look like your mother.” Okay, so he was fishing for information. He’d admit he was curious.

Steffi looked at him and calmly said, “Thank you.” Despite her earlier emotions she was now composed.

“Are you eight years old, Steffi?” he asked. He was pretty good at guessing the ages of children, since he’d been a schoolteacher and had several nieces and nephews.

“No, I’m only six.”

“Well, you seem much older.” From her slight smile she appeared pleased. “How about you, Annie?” he asked gently, realizing the middle child was much shyer than her older sister.

She stared at him, not saying anything.

Steffi spoke for her sister. “She’s five and Missy is three.”