Blue Dahlia

children is to be bossed by adults. And as she’s paying my salary, she gets to boss me, too. We’re all in the same boat.”
    Gavin took Parker’s leash when they got out. “I don’t like her.”
    “That’s what I love about you, Gavin.” Stella ruffled his wavy blond hair. “Always thinking positive. Okay, here we go.” She took his hand, and Luke’s, gave each a gentle squeeze. The four of them started toward the covered entry.
    The doors, a double set painted the same pure and glossy white as the trim, burst open.
    “At last!” David flung out his arms. “Men! I’m no longer outnumbered around here.”
    “Gavin, Luke, this is Mr.—I’m sorry, David, I don’t know your last name.”
    “Wentworth. But let’s keep it David.” He crouched down, looked the rapidly barking Parker in the eye. “What’s your problem, buddy?”
    In response, Parker planted his front paws on David’s knee and lapped, with great excitement, at his face.
    “That’s more like it. Come on in. Roz’ll be right along. She’s upstairs on the phone, skinning some supplier over a delivery.”
    They stepped into the wide foyer, where the boys simply stood and goggled.
    “Pretty ritzy, huh?”
    “Is it like a church?”
    “Nah.” David grinned at Luke. “It’s got fancy parts, but it’s just a house. We’ll get a tour in, but maybe you need some hot chocolate to revive you after your long journey.”
    “David makes wonderful hot chocolate.” Roz started down the graceful stairs that divided the foyer. She was dressed in work clothes, as she’d been the day before. “With lots of whipped cream.”
    “Ms. Harper, my boys. Gavin and Luke.”
    “I’m very pleased to meet you. Gavin.” She offered a hand to him.
    “This is Parker. He’s our dog. He’s one and a half.”
    “And very handsome. Parker.” She gave the dog a friendly pat.
    “I’m Luke. I’m six, and I’m in first grade. I can write my name.”
    “He cannot either.” Gavin sneered in brotherly disgust. “He can only print it.”
    “Have to start somewhere, don’t you? It’s very nice to meet you, Luke. I hope you’re all going to be comfortable here.”
    “You don’t look really old,” Luke commented, and had David snorting out a laugh.
    “Why, thank you. I don’t feel really old either, most of the time.”
    Feeling slightly ill, Stella forced a smile. “I told the boys how old the house was, and that your family’s always lived here. He’s a little confused.”
    “I haven’t been here as long as the house. Why don’t we have that hot chocolate, David? We’ll sit in the kitchen, get acquainted.”
    “Is he your husband?” Gavin asked. “How come you have different last names?”
    “She won’t marry me,” David told him, as he herded them down the hall. “She just breaks my poor, weeping heart.”
    “He’s teasing you. David takes care of the house, and most everything else. He lives here.”
    “Is she the boss of you, too?” Luke tugged David’s hand. “Mom says she’s the boss of all of us.”
    “I let her think so.” He led the way into the kitchen with its granite counters and warm cherry wood. A banquette with sapphire leather cushions ranged under a wide window.
    Herbs thrived in blue pots along the work counter. Copper pots gleamed.
    “This is my domain,” David told them. “I’m boss here, just so you know the pecking order. You like to cook, Stella?”
    “I don’t know if ‘like’s’ the word, but I do know I can’t manage anything that would earn a kitchen like this.”
    Two Sub-Zero refrigerators, what looked to be a restaurant-style stove, double ovens, acres of counter.
    And the little details that made a serious work space homey, she noted with relief. The brick hearth with a pretty fire simmering, the old china cupboard filled with antique glassware, forced bulbs of tulips and hyacinths blooming on a butcher block table.
    “I live to cook. I can tell you it’s pretty frustrating to waste my considerable talents on Roz. She’d just as soon eat cold cereal. And Harper rarely makes an appearance.”
    “Harper’s my oldest son. He lives in the guest house. You’ll see him sometimes.”
    “He’s the mad scientist.” David got out a pot and chunks of chocolate.
    “Does he make monsters? Like Frankenstein?” As he asked, Luke snuck his hand into his mother’s again.
    “Frankenstein’s just pretend,” Stella reminded him. “Ms. Harper’s son works with plants.”
    “Maybe