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tomorrow? What if she never turned up at all? What if she had dumped Timmy on us before disappearing as completely as Amelia Earhart and Jimmy Hoffa? The mountain of equipment had also included a bag containing a Timmy-sized snowsuit and two matched knitted hat and mitten sets.
    “I’ll manage tomorrow,” I said. “I just hope everyone who helped with Timmy today doesn’t get wise and disappear.”
    “Maybe your mother could help.”
    “Mother? Are you crazy?” I had to chuckle at the idea, and my stomach unclenched a bit. I tried another sip of wine.
    “Well, she’s done it before, hasn’t she?” Michael said. “I know it’s been quite a while since she’s taken care of a toddler—”
    “Meaning quite a while since I was a toddler? Gee, thanks.”
    “Actually I was only thinking about the ten years or so since your nieces and nephews were toddlers.”
    “Good save. But no, Mother was never a hands-on grandmother. For that matter, she was never a hands-on mother. She doesn’t do childcare—she delegates.”
    “You mean you had nannies?”
    “No, but we always had two or three needy relatives living with us. Aunts or cousins who were going through what the family euphemistically calls ‘a bad patch.’ A messy divorce, a complicated bankruptcy, something like that. They did the diapers and midnight feedings and potty training—anything messy or strenuous.”
    Considering the look on Michael’s face, I decided not to tell him about Cousin Alice, the relative who had spent the most time taking care of me during my first three or four years. Even though it was justifiable homicide and she’d served her time, I sensed he wouldn’t react well.
    “So your mother didn’t actually do anything?” he asked.
    “She was an early adopter of the ‘it takes a village’approach to child-rearing. With Mother in the all-important role of lady of the manor. She supervised.”
    “That’s it?”
    “If you’re wondering, I don’t think it’s ideal, and it’s not how I’d approach parenthood, but it worked pretty well. Pam and Rob and I didn’t turn out too warped, did we? Well, Pam and I, at least. And you can probably put down Rob’s eccentricities as much to heredity as environment.”
    “It’s . . . different,” he said. “And it does rather explain a few things.”
    “Such as?”
    “Well, it explains why you’re not bothered by Rob moving in.”
    “Moving in where? Here? You’re joking, right?”
    “He hasn’t formally moved in—no mail forwarding or anything. But he has started leaving a bunch of his stuff in one of the bedrooms on the third floor.”
    “You’re serious. How long has this been going on?”
    “Couple of weeks. It wasn’t till this week he brought over the sleeping bag. He probably doesn’t realize anyone noticed.”
    I closed my eyes and counted to ten. I knew Rob wasn’t happy at the run-down apartment building where he’d been living, and several times I’d suggested that I’d gladly help him look for a better place. If he’d gotten fed up with the Whispering Pines, why couldn’t Rob just come out and ask if he could stay with us while he found new quarters? Since the house was several times larger than we could possibly need, his chances of guilt-tripping us into saying yes were probably near a hundred percent.
    Unless his plan was just to move in and skip hunting for a new place altogether. Also a possibility. Why did everyone in my family have to sneak around and make things dramatic and complicated and—
    “I’ll talk to him,” I said.
    “I’m not saying it’s a problem or anything, Rob being here,” Michael said. “I just didn’t want it to come as a big shock if you found out yourself.”
    “Good; so you won’t mind if I don’t kick him out immediately. He might come in handy with Timmy.”
    “He might come in handy generally,” Michael said. And then, as if deciding he’d veered too close to the all-important subject of starting a