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since I spilled the orange juice on the couch and we had to turn over the pillow so nobody’d know.”
    â€œJohnny…” Hunter groaned from behind them.
    But Terese merely laughed again—both at the son giving away secrets and the father’s embarrassment.“You would never know by looking,” she assured, glancing at the gray tweed sofa that matched an over-stuffed easy chair.
    They were positioned with an oak coffee table and a full wall of shelves and cabinets that, from what she could see, acted as an entertainment center, library and knickknack holder in front of them. Solid wood doors blocked the view of the contents of the lower cabinets.
    â€œThe kitchen’s this way,” Johnny said, heading through an open arch to the right of the living room.
    It was a big country kitchen with an abundance of plain white cupboards and appliances and a large pedestal table with four barrel-backed chairs around it.
    â€œThis is where we eat—even at Christmas and stuff. My friend Mikey’s got another room where they eat on Christmas but we don’t.”
    â€œThat means there’s no formal dining room,” Hunter translated from where he’d stopped in the kitchen’s entrance.
    â€œAh,” Terese said.
    â€œThis is the mudroom,” Johnny informed her, pointing into the much smaller space that was off the kitchen. It contained a washer and dryer as well as a shelf with coat hooks and a bench beneath it. “My dad says it was named for me because I’m always comin’ in muddy and I need to take off my shoes in there before I track it everywhere else.”
    â€œGood idea,” Terese confirmed.
    â€œSo if you get muddy feet, you can do that, too.”
    â€œI’ll remember that.”
    â€œNow we can go upstairs,” Johnny announced.
    Terese followed him back into the living room, casting Hunter a faint smile when she glanced back to see if he was coming, too.
    But he didn’t catch the smile because his eyes were too low. In fact, she thought they might have been on her rear end.
    Had Hunter Coltrane been checking out her derriere?
    She must have been mistaken, she told herself. But even so, she couldn’t help the little rush that went through her.
    A little rush she tried to ignore.
    They returned to the stairs Johnny had run down earlier and went up to the second floor.
    â€œThat’s the bathroom over there. Always knock first,” Johnny said, adding his advice by rote. Next he held one arm straight out and pointed a miniature index finger at another door. “That’s the guest bedroom for when somebody has a sleepover but doesn’t stay in the cabin.” The index finger moved slightly. “That’s my dad’s room.” Another move of the index finger. “And this one is mine!”
    Terese couldn’t see into the guest bedroom because the door was closed, but she did catch a glimpse of a tall antique bureau and a king-size bed with a fluffy brown comforter in the room Johnny had said belonged to his father.
    There was no time for more than that glimpse,though, as her nephew charged into his own room, clearly intending her to go with him.
    â€œCome on, I’ll get the book for you to read.”
    Terese went into the toy-cluttered room, but as she did, she once more cast a glance to Hunter. “You’re sure you don’t mind my doing the honors?” she asked, wanting to make sure she wasn’t stepping on any toes.
    â€œIt’s okay,” Hunter assured, leaning a single shoulder against the doorframe and crossing his arms over his chest. He didn’t say any more to Terese but aimed his attention at his son once again. “The necktie has to come off for bed.”
    The little boy obeyed without an argument, brought the tie to his father and then situated himself to one side of the bed so Terese could sit on the mattress beside him.
    â€œGreen Eggs and Ham,”