Daddy's Little Matchmakers. Kathleen Y'Barbo

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       “We don’t have a babysitter. Just our Grammy.”

       Amy let out a long breath. This must be Susan. “Then might I speak to your grammy?”

       “No, don’t do that!” was quickly followed by a crash that sounded like breaking glass. Then came a dog’s excited yip.

       A scream, and then the line went dead.

       Amy held on to the receiver for a moment then slowly returned it to its cradle. What had just happened?

       She reached to return her computer screen to the home page and tried to shrug off the sense that something just wasn’t right. What if the elderly woman who answered the phone was in distress? Amy thought of her grandmother’s fall and how blessed she was to have neighbors who checked on her.

       What if Susan Wilson had fallen and now lay helpless with only Eric’s little girls to assist? Would they know what to do? The thought sent her into action. Quickly she hit redial and listened as the phone rang repeatedly then went to an automated voice mail.

       Amy jotted down the address the girl had given her and snagged her purse. If anyone in Vine Beach needed to place a classified, they’d just have to wait. Besides, what could the managing editor do, fire her? She had only a few more hours of work left, anyway.

       “I’ll be right back,” Amy said as she passed Bev Calloway’s open door.

       The city reporter looked up from her computer, her glasses dangling precariously on the end of her nose. “Emergency?”

       “I hope not.” Amy hitched her purse up higher on her shoulder. “I got a call I’d like to check out. Older lady and some kids. Heard a crash that sounded like glass breaking and now I can’t get anyone to answer.”

       She thought about mentioning the identity of the woman, maybe telling Bev to call the vet clinic, then decided against it. If she was wrong, she’d look like a fool. Better to check things out first and apologize later if need be.

       Bev’s dark brows rose. “Should I call an ambulance?”

       “I don’t think so. Not yet, anyway. The address is just around the corner.” Her fingers found the keys. “Might want to say a little prayer, though. I’m hoping it’s nothing, but you never know.”

       “Will do,” Bev called as Amy hurried out the building to her car.

       A few minutes later, she made the turn and soon found herself in front of a tidy redbrick home trimmed in white and marked by a front door of glossy dark green. An empty driveway ended at a matching garage with a basketball goal hung just over the center of the double-size door.

       Pulling to the curb across the street, Amy shifted the car into Park. The black mailbox at the curb had the name Wilson emblazoned in slightly mismatched alphabet stickers, the only sign of imperfection in what was an otherwise perfect abode.

       Amy spied a black-and-white Springer Spaniel bounding down the driveway toward her followed in quick succession by a stair-stepped trio of fair-haired girls—the same ones she remembered from church. Eric Wilson’s daughters.

       The tallest of the three carried a leash as if she might use it to lasso the spaniel while the other two, lagging behind their sister by a few paces, seemed to have assumed a supporting role in the drama. All were headed toward the street.

       “Stop right there!” Amy called as she turned off the engine and fumbled for the door handle. “Do not follow that dog into the street!”

       Throwing open the door, Amy jumped out and looked both ways across the empty street. Then she hurried to head off the oncoming parade of fair-haired children by snagging the dog’s collar and guiding him back onto the lawn.

       “Hand me the leash, please,” she said to the eldest of the trio.

       The child complied while her sisters waited at the edge of the driveway. Only after she had the animal safely corralled did Amy consider that the pup might not have taken kindly to her intervention.

       After giving the dog a pat on the head, Amy glanced over at the girls who stood very still on the edge of the driveway. The little one, a vision of cuteness in some sort of princess garb complete with tiara, fidgeted with her ponytail while the middle child, Amy now noticed, held pen and paper and wore yet another outfit—this time shorts and a top—covered in flowers.

       The side door opened and a familiar-looking woman with spiky silver-colored hair peered out. Apparently Susan Wilson was fine.

       “Girls, where are you?” she called

       “Over here, Grammy,” the little princess called. “With the lady who caught Skipper.”

       “The lady who…” She met Amy’s stare. “Oh, my goodness. What is that dog doing out in the front yard?”

       Amy smiled at the trim figure in white capri pants, sandals and a pale blue button-down shirt heading their way. “He was running toward the street with the girls close behind.” She offered the dog’s leash to the older woman. “I’m Amy,” she said. “Amy Spencer. I work at the Gazette.”

       The grandmother gave Dr. Wilson’s girls a look of relief before she turned her attention to Amy. “Pleased to meet you, Amy Spencer. I’m Susan Wilson and these are my granddaughters. This one’s Ella. She’ll be ten soon. Then comes eight-year-old Hailey.”

       “Hello, Ella and Hailey,” Amy said when the eldest girl reached to shake her hand. Hailey offered a smile but made no move forward.

       “And last but certainly not least,” the vet’s mother said, “this is Brooke. She just turned five and will start big-girl school in the fall.” The little one rolled her eyes and tugged on her shorts. Apparently big-girl school was a sore subject for the youngest Wilson girl. “Say hello, Brooke,” Mrs. Wilson urged.

       The little one met Amy’s gaze and grinned, showing a missing front tooth. “Hello,” she said before ducking behind her grandmother. Amy returned the greeting when the girl peered out from under the older lady’s arm.

       “And of course, you’ve met Skipper.” Susan Wilson’s brown eyes twinkled. “I’d say the Lord had you in just the right spot this afternoon. Thank you for saving Skipper and the girls from what might have been a whole lot of trouble.”

       “You’re welcome,” Amy said quickly. “I’m glad I could help.”

       Behind her, the girls wore stricken looks. Obviously their grandmother had no idea a whole lot of trouble had already occurred.

       Mrs. Wilson shook her head. “Tell me, Amy, how did you come to be standing in our driveway? I thought the girls had just phoned you to—” A car sped past and the dog made to follow. “Oh, no, you don’t.” When the car had safely disappeared around the corner, Mrs. Wilson turned the leash over to the eldest of the girls. “Ella, go on and take Skipper back inside the fence. Don’t let him in the house just yet, though. I haven’t finished СКАЧАТЬ