Silent Run

chair in my bedroom green."
    He scowled at Lily and Rose. "You've had a busy day, haven't you?"
    "Too busy for me," Eleanor declared. "This is the last straw. I'm leaving just as soon as I get my suitcase packed."
    "Yay --" Lily's spontaneous cheer ended with Michael's glare. "I mean, that's too bad, Mrs. Polking. Come on, Rose, let's look at the fire engine."
    "You can't just leave, Mrs. Polking." He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. "You agreed to stay the summer. I know the girls are difficult, but they just need a little extra attention."
    "That's not all they need."
    He ignored that comment. "I'm in the middle of a bid for a very big job. At least give me a week or two to make other arrangements."
    "I'm sorry, Mr. Ashton," Eleanor said, not sounding a bit sorry. "The girls have made it clear that they want you."
    "I can't work full-time and take care of the girls. I'm only one person."
    Mrs. Polking softened just a bit. "I understand. That's why I took the liberty of making you a list of summer school programs. You'll find it on the credenza in the dining room."
    "When did you decide to do that?"
    "This morning, after the girls glued my shoes to the floor. Perhaps they'll do better in a more structured environment." Eleanor checked her watch. "It's not yet five. If you hurry you may be able to find one for Monday. Good luck," she said, turning away.
    Good luck ? Since when had he ever had good luck? His wife was dead. His children wouldn't speak to him. The demands of his job as an architect, combined with the responsibilities of being a single father, made him feel as if he were running around in circles, chasing after his tail like a foolish dog.
    He had never imagined that his life would end up like this. As he stared at the house, he was thankful it hadn't burned down. The house had belonged to his in-laws, the De Lucas, for almost a hundred years, since they first emigrated from Italy in the late 1800s. More than a house, it was a symbol of tradition, of family, of responsibility, of loyalty, of everything that a man should be.
    His father-in-law had told Michael he was worthy of this house, that he knew Michael would take care of his daughter, Angela. He had felt the burden of that generous gift every day of their marriage. The burden had doubled in weight after the birth of the twins, and tripled in weight upon Angela's death at the age of twenty-six.
    He hadn't taken care of Angela as he had promised. But he still had the girls to raise. He still had a chance to give the De Lucas back some of the love and respect they had given him.
    The sound of voices brought him back to reality. He looked up as the firemen left his house.
    "The fire was limited to the stove and the trash can," one of the men said. "You have damage to the ceiling and walls from the smoke. The floor around the trash can is pretty beat up, but that's about it. Otherwise you're okay," He paused. "I hope you'll have a long talk with your kids about fire safety in the kitchen and elsewhere."
    "Oh, don't worry, I intend to have a very long talk with them -- about a lot of things."
    The fireman grinned. "They sure are cute kids. One of them called 911. Sounded calm as could be. Well, we're off."
    "Thanks," Michael said.
    "No problem. That's what we're here for."
    As the fire engine left, Mrs. Polking returned to the house and Lily and Rose wandered back to Michael, obviously uneasy now that they were alone with him. Lily dug her hands into the pockets of her jeans and tried to look confident. Rose chewed on a piece of her hair, the way she always did when she was nervous. For a few moments Michael let them suffer in silence.
    The more he looked at them, the more they reminded him of Angela. They were their mother's daughters, all right, same dark brown hair, same big brown eyes, same stubborn chin, same impetuous, spoiled nature.
    Oh, they were cute all right, and dangerous, especially Lily. The older twin by two minutes, Lily was the leader. She was rambunctious, loud, and often clumsy, but she would defend her little sister to the death.
    Rose was his sensitive, emotional child, quiet and introspective. She tried to do what was right more often than Lily, but loyalty to her sister always came before anything else.
    Looking at them now, Michael wondered which one of them would crack first -- which one would finally break down and talk to him.
    Sometimes he thought Lily would be the one, because once in a while she impulsively