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Citizens’ Housing Project, sipping raspberry tea and reliving the last twelve hours. The stress of having an infant in her house would be over. Ethan and his tiny reminder of her greatest pain would be gone.
    Bag packed and zipped, she carried the suitcase to the back door just as Ethan stomped through it. Cold emanated from him. He did not look happy.
    Shivering against the sudden draft of frigid air, Molly reached behind him to push the door closed. “Is something wrong?”
    Blowing out a frustrated breath, he pulled the stocking cap from his head. “Bad news. The power line over the garage snapped.”
    “No wonder the power is gone. That line feeds the breaker box to the entire house.”
    “Worse than that.” He unzipped his coat as if he planned to remove it. “The garage and everything in it is electrified—a death trap until that line is repaired.”
    “Oh, no.” Apprehension crept up her spine. He had to leave. He had to take that baby out of her house.
    “Sorry.” His mouth turned grim as he said the words Molly dreaded. “But none of us is going anywhere today—or maybe for a lot longer.”

Chapter Four
    “I could try walking into town,” Ethan said. Given the expression on Molly’s face he thought maybe he should at least try.
    “Don’t be silly. You nearly froze last night. We’re safe and snug here so we’ll make do until things begin to thaw out in a day or two.” An attractive little frown pinched her eyebrows together. “Water will be our primary problem, but there’s plenty of that frozen in the yard.”
    The tightness in his shoulders relaxed. He appreciated her practical attitude even if she wasn’t thrilled to have him as a house guest. “Got more buckets? I can start chipping ice.”
    “The big stock pots are in the storage room. They’ll have to do.”
    “I’ll get them. Which way?”
    “Back through here.” She motioned through the kitchen and down a hallway. “But I can do it.”
    “That’s okay. I might as well learn the lay of the land if I’m going to be here for a while.”
    Following her directions, he went through the door at the end of the hall only to see more rooms beyond. The old house seemed to ramble on forever. No wonder she didn’t heat this section.
    He opened the first room, spotted an old table loaded with boxes and assumed he’d found the storage area. He went inside to hunt for the pots.
    He found something else instead. Familiar packages. UPS boxes. Most from children’s stores. All of them recent additions to the room. All filled with kids’ stuff.
    “What is all this?” he murmured, gazing around at the surprising contents.
    A stack of new sweatshirts and jeans and several pairs of tennis shoes had been transferred from their original packages into a larger box addressed to Hillside Children’s Home. Another box appeared to be a work in progress, containing only a handful of toys. Catalogs lay strewn about, open to the kids’ pages with certain items circled in red pen.
    Either Molly belonged to some sort of charitable group that collected clothes and toys for needy children or she spent a lot of time and money doing the job on her own.
    Either option seemed strange to him, considering her reaction to Laney.
    What was the truth about Molly and kids?
    More curious than ever about his hostess, he left the room to complete his original errand, returning to the kitchen with two stainless steel pots in hand and a lot of unanswered questions in his head.
    He found Molly still in the kitchen, except now she stood on a chair rummaging in the upper cabinets.
    Holding up the pots, he said, “Found them.”
    She looked down at him and smiled. “I know I have some candles up here somewhere. Oh, here we go.” She handed him a tall pillar. “I was thinking. What about Laney? Do you have everything you need for her?”
    “Enough formula and diapers to last a day or two—maybe more.” No point worrying about that yet.
    She stuck her head back