Blue Dahlia

true . That’s why they have them. Girls. Guys don’t get boobies because they can’t make milk, no matter how much they drink.”
    “Huh. That explains that.”
    “Fat Mr. Kelso’s got boobies,” Gavin said and sent his brother into a spasm of hilarity.
    Stella stepped to the door and saw Logan holding the baby with her boys flanking him. All three of them had grins from ear-to-ear. The sun was shimmering down through the scarlet leaves of a red maple, falling in a shifting pattern of light and shadow on the stone. Lilies had burst into bloom in a carnival of color and exotic shapes. She could smell them, and the early roses, freshly cut grass, and verbena.
    She heard birdsong and the giggling whispers of her boys, the delicate music of the wind chime hung from one of the maple’s branches.
    Her first clear thought as she froze there, as if she’d walked into an invisible frame of a picture was, Uh-oh.
    Maybe she’d said it out loud, as Logan’s head turned toward her. When their eyes met, his foolish grin transformed into a smile, easy and warm.
    He looked too big crouched there, she thought. Too big, too rough with that tiny child in his arms, too male centered between her precious boys.
    And so ... dazzling somehow. Tanned and fit and strong.
    He belonged in a forest, beating a path over rocky ground. Not here, in this elegant scene with flowers scenting the air and a baby dozing in the crook of his arm.
    He straightened and walked toward her. “Your turn.”
    “Oh.” She reached for Lily. “There you are, beautiful baby girl. There you are.” She laid her lips on Lily’s brow, and breathed in. “How’s she doing today?” she asked Hayley.
    “Good as gold. Look here, Stella. Look what Logan bought her.”
    Yeah, a female thing, Logan mused as Stella made nearly the identical sound Hayley had over the doll. “Isn’t that the most precious thing?”
    “And watch this.” Hayley pulled the hat so the tune played out.
    “Mom. Mom.” Luke deserted Logan to tug on his mother.
    “Just a minute, baby.”
    They fussed over the doll and Lily while Luke rolled his eyes and danced in place.
    “I think Lily and I should go take a nap.” Hayley tucked the baby in her carrier, then lifted it and the doll. “Thanks again, Logan. It was awfully sweet of you.”
    “Glad you like it. You take care now.”
    “Dolls are lame,” Gavin stated, but he was polite enough to wait until Hayley was inside.
    “Really?” Stella reached over to flick the bill of his baseball cap over his eyes. “And what are those little people you’ve got all over your shelves and your desk?”
    “Those aren’t dolls.” Gavin looked as horrified as an eight-year-old boy could manage. “Those are action figures. Come on , Mom.”
    “My mistake.”
    “We want to be Saturday slaves and build an arbor.” Luke pulled on her hand and to get her attention. “Okay?”
    “Saturday slaves?”
    “I’m building an arbor tomorrow,” Logan explained. “Could use some help, and I got these two volunteers. I hear they work for cheese sandwiches and Popsicles.”
    “Oh. Actually, I was planning to take them to work with me tomorrow.”
    “An arbor , Mom.” Luke gazed up pleadingly, as if he’d been given the chance to build the space shuttle and then ride it to Pluto. “I never, ever built one before.”
    “Well ...”
    “Why don’t we split it up?” Logan suggested. “You take them on in with you in the morning, and I’ll swing by and get them around noon.”
    She felt her stomach knot. It sounded normal. Like parenting. Like family. Dimly, she heard her boys begging and pleading over the buzzing in her ears.
    “That’ll be fine,” she managed. “If you’re sure they won’t be in your way.”
    He cocked his head at the strained and formal tone. “They get in it, I just kick them out again. Like now. Why don’t you boys go find that dog and see what he’s up to, so I can talk to your mama a minute?”
    Gavin made a disgusted face. “Let’s go, Luke. He’s probably going to kiss her.”
    “Why, I’m transparent as glass to that boy,” Logan said. He tipped her chin up with his fingers, laid his lips on hers, and watched her watch him. “Hello, Stella.”
    “Hello, Logan.”
    “Are you going to tell me what’s going on in that head of yours, or do I have to guess?”
    “A lot of things. And nothing much.”
    “You looked poleaxed when you came outside.”
    “ ‘Poleaxed.’ Now there’s a word