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to take him to the park before I swing back.”

“Bring him to the house. Nicholas has been begging me to get a dog, and I’ve been stalling. He can toss a ball for him in the field after dinner.”

“You sure? He’s a great dog, but he’s a German Shepherd. He’ll shed all over your carpet.”

“As long as he doesn’t pee on it, I’m good. Seriously, bring him over. I’ll bet he’s just as sick of your apartment as you are.”

“Actually, I was going to ask if I could bring him a few times a week to school. He’s trained and will stay on his dog bed while I teach.”

“As long as he minds you, I’m fine with it.”

~*~*~

After dinner, Nicholas and Sara played with Storm until we called them in to get ready for bed. Anne led Sara upstairs, and I nudged Nicholas down the hall and into the bathroom.

“I want to see you scrub those teeth, young man,” I said, grinning at him in the mirror. “All of them. Not just the front ones.”

“I will.”

“I know you will, because I’m going to watch to make sure you do.”

Nicholas watched me in the mirror as he coated his toothbrush with toothpaste. While he brushed, I exchanged his hand towel for a clean one. An empty roll hung on the toilet paper rack with a partial roll sitting on top of the sink. Nicholas giggled as I swapped the rolls.

“Don’t forget to brush the roof of your mouth and tongue,” I reminded him.

He rolled his eyes, but did as I asked. When he was done brushing, I stopped him from wiping his mouth on his sleeve and handed him a tissue. He laughed, wiping his mouth and tossing the tissue toward the trash before running into his bedroom. He had missed, though. I stood staring at the tissue lying on the floor. I knew I should call him back into the bathroom, but he was already putting on his pajamas. I decided it wasn’t worth delaying bedtime and starting a fight.

After throwing the tissue away, I rinsed the spit from the sink, shaking my head. Nine-year-old boys were slobs. Turning the bathroom light off, I crossed the hall into Nicholas’ room. He was already climbing into bed.

“Young man,” I said, placing my hands on my hips. “You have a hamper for your dirty clothes.”

“It’s okay. Eloise picks them up when she cleans. She’ll make my bed, too. It’s kind of cool.”

Based on a recommendation from Nightcrawler, I’d hired Eloise a few weeks back to clean the houses and Headquarters. She was shy and usually cleaned when the fewest number of people were around. Though we seldom saw her, we always knew she’d cleaned because she left everything in five-star condition.

“It’s not Eloise’s job to clean up after you.”

“You hired her to clean. That is too her job.”

“Nicholas, get out of bed and pick up your clothes!”

“Fine,” he said, sighing dramatically as he threw the covers away from him and stood. He made a production of stomping around the room and throwing his clothes toward the hamper. Half of them missed. I stopped him from climbing back into bed and turned him back toward the hamper.

“You’re in a bad mood.” He stomped back, jamming the clothes deep into the hamper.

“When I see my son taking advantage of people, yes, it puts me in a bad mood.”

“Can I go to bed now?” he asked, crossing his arms over his chest and glaring at me.

“You really want to play this game?”

He turned his glare toward the wall but didn’t answer.

“Fine. To bed then.” I waved a hand toward his bed and he stomped over, throwing himself in and turning his back toward me.

“I take it you don’t want to read with me tonight?”

Silence.

“That’s your choice. From now on though, you clean your own room. Which includes making your bed.” I leaned over and kissed the top of his head. “And remember, I love you even when you’re behaving like a spoiled snot.”

I tousled his hair, but he jerked away from me. Sighing, I left the bedroom and closed the door behind me. Back in the dining room, I picked up my phone and called Eloise.

“Hello,” Eloise answered in a quiet voice.

“Hi, Eloise. It’s Kelsey. Sorry to call you after hours. Do you have a minute?”

“Did I do something wrong?”

“Not at all. I’m actually calling because you are doing too good of a job.”

“I don’t understand.”

“My son. He’s turning into a spoiled brat. I need you to stop cleaning his room for him.”

“Sara’s too!” Anne said, coming down the stairs.

“Anne’s saying to stop cleaning Sara’s, too. We need the kids to learn to take care of themselves.”

“What about vacuuming? And dusting? And making the beds?” Eloise asked.

“They’re old enough to make their own beds. If their rooms are clean, I don’t mind you vacuuming the floor on occasion or washing the windows, but their clothes, toys, trash, bedding—that’s their job.”

“Okay. If you’re sure.”

“I’m very sure. And if you notice the kids leaving messes for you to clean up, let one of us know. We’ll handle it.”

“I don’t want to get them in trouble. They’re nice kids.”

“But?”

“Nicholas needs to work on his aim when using the bathroom,” she said, giggling. “And Sara spills pop in her room and lets it dry and get gummy.”

“I’m pretty sure Anne isn’t aware that Sara is drinking pop, let alone spilling it in her room. As for Nicholas’ aiming habits, I’ll ask one of the guys to have a talk with him. If that doesn’t work, I’ll have him start cleaning all the toilets until he learns.”

“You are a good mom, Kelsey.”

“I’m glad someone thinks so.” We ended the call, and

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