I couldn't help my cocky smile. "I do look pretty good, don't I?"
Molly set the basket on the table and I set Angie on the floor to help Mol off with the papoose tote.
"I want to play dress-up too. Miss Bliss and Miss Christie gived me some stuff. Mama, show Aunt Jane."
"You let Christie give her stuff?" Christie's personal and professional style went more to spiked collars, whips, chains, and multiple piercings.
"Just some silver rhinestone jewelry. Tame stuff."
Angie took the play-pretties from her mother and modeled a sparkly rhinestone necklace. Molly pulled an old, peach silk nightgown over her daughter's head. On a grown-up the gown would have come to midthigh; it reached Angie's ankles, and with the purple T-shirt beneath, it looked precious. My heart went all mushy and my throat went tight at the sight. I snapped a few pics of Angie in her finery, and Molly took more of the both of us to e-mail to Big Evan in Brazil. I printed out the best pics and hung them on the fridge. They looked really . . . nice hanging there.
I was left with an odd feeling inside, one I couldn't name, but that felt similar to the serenity that had started out my day, though this was a lot more intense than that. A lot.
Once the pictures had been sent off to Evan, we all helped me out of the leathers and boots, which was harder than getting into them. Angie kept on her finery, but I opted for a pair of shorts and a T because, despite the AC, it was still muggy and warm and the leathers had been hot. We ate a late meal of peanut butter and jelly and iced tea. The lump that had formed in my throat at the sight of Angie in her dress-up clothes expanded as we munched, as Angie smeared jelly on her face, and Little Evan spat gobs of green baby food goo and laughed. It was so . . . homey.
Afterward, still in her peach silk finery, blue eyes sleepy, Angie curled up on my bed with her Cherokee doll, patted the mattress, and said, "Nap time, Aunt Jane."
"Molly?" My voice sounded strangled. "She wants me to take a nap. With her."
Molly hid a grin, but not very well. "Big tough vampire killer all scared of a six-year-old wanting a nap? I'll be in my own bed, thank you very much." She carried the baby upstairs. Angelina yawned hugely and patted the bed again. Gingerly, I crawled onto the mattress and lay down, stiff as a board. Angie curled into my side, yawned again, and promptly fell asleep. Happy was far too mundane a term to describe my feelings. There had to be another word better suited to this sappy, sentimental, fiercely protective sensation that thumped through my chest with my lifeblood. Had to be. And it was followed by a jolt of fear, intense and icy. I knew it couldn't last. Nothing this good ever could, which terrified me down to my toes.
I eased to my side, slid an arm around Angie, and closed my eyes. Tried to relax. I could get used to having Molly around. To having kids around. They made life so much more intense and . . . And naps were a good side benefit.
Beast, quiescent all day, rolled over in my mind and sent me one word. Kits.
I woke at dusk to find Angie gone, the place beside me cool to the touch, and my bedroom door shut. Molly must have wanted me to sleep in. As I stretched, my cell rang, and I dug it out of my new leathers to see the number for Katie's Ladies displayed. "Jane," I said.
"Tom, here. Is Bliss over there? She has an early caller and her room is empty."
Early caller meant early customer. "Hang on." I moved through the house, sniffing. Bliss hadn't been here. Molly was on the side porch with the kids. "Not here. No one saw her leave? Nothing on the security system?"
"Just some interference about an hour ago."
Interference? I didn't like it. A sudden pulse of fear shot through me. Bliss was a witch, a witch who looked younger than her age, a witch who had no magical, protective wards on her home. Did that put her in danger?
"I'll be right over." Not bothering to change, I pulled on flip-flops and told Molly to go inside and set the wards. Ignoring her concerned face, I vaulted the fifteen-foot brick wall between our houses. It was nearly sunset and the air had that soft, balmy, glowy heat I was coming to associate with spring evenings in New Orleans. It would be a great night for a ride, my hair loose and flowing in the wind, Bitsa growling beneath me. Maybe later.