Family Counsel (The Samuel Collins Series Book 2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

started with Morgan cooing, and then Oliver and Max talking.
    “Where’d you get that?” Oliver asked.
    “Duh dawage,” Max said.
    “The garage?”
    “Yeah.”
    “What is it?  Eewwww!  Max, that’s gross!” Oliver exclaimed,
and then there was ear-splitting, “ DAD !” that I thought might blow the
speaker.  Morgan went abruptly from baby sounds to crying.
    “That’ll be for me,” I said without enthusiasm, and I set my
beer down on the counter.  “God knows what he has.”
    Oliver met me at the kitchen door.  “Max has something really
gross!”
    I couldn’t think of anything that qualified as gross that we
kept in the garage.  Anything poisonous or dangerous was locked away, and there
wasn’t that much stuff lying around in there.  Except maybe . . . the litter
box .
    When I reached him, Max was in the process of trying to share a
cat turd with his baby sister.  My voice came out as kind of a half-yell,
half-groan, as I lunged at his outstretched hand.
    “Nooooooooo!” 
    The turd was coated in cat litter; it looked like Almond Roca. 
I swatted the thing out of Max’s hand and rushed him to the bathroom. 
    “Did you eat that, Max?” He looked at me like he wasn’t sure
what to say.  “Did he eat it, Oliver?”
    Oliver shook his head.  “No.  He was just playing with it.” 
    I was so grossed out that I wanted to puke.  “Open your mouth.”
    He actually did it, and I was immensely relieved that there was
no overt sign of anything in his teeth.  Felicia had come back to Morgan’s room
and had gotten Morgan out of her bed. 
    “He ate cat shit?” she said in disbelief.
    “Apparently he just played with it.” I was amazed that I could
say it so casually.  I’m certain that if I’d found cat shit in his mouth, I
would have gone straight to the phone and called Maddie to come home.
    I washed Max’s hands with industrial soap and made him brush
his teeth; I disposed of the cat turd; and the five of us retreated to the
family room.  Maddie had gone to a lot of trouble to prepare and freeze our
dinner, but I was so mentally drained that I didn’t even feel like having to
heat it up and serve it. 
    “Who wants McDonald’s?” I asked.
    “Yeah!” Oliver and Max cheered. 
    I turned to Felicia.  “I’ll pay you one hundred dollars if you
go get it.”
    Felicia ended up staying until almost 8:00, when things looked
like they were winding down for the night.  When Maddie called that night, I
could honestly assure her that everything at home was fine.  I was sitting in
bed watching TV with a sleeping Morgan in my arms and my boys curled up on
either side of me, sound asleep.  I was feeling very fatherly after all.

Chapter 3
    My grandmotherly across-the-street neighbor, Mrs. Howard, had taken
to bringing me muffins on a daily basis when I’d first moved to the Park. I
assumed that when Maddie and I got married, Mrs. Howard’s daily-bread delivery
would come to an end.  After all, cooking for one is not the same as cooking
for four, but she persisted in spite of all the mouths.  She’d changed from
little bite-sized muffins to cupcake size, but that was the only thing that
changed.  One day I was single, wolfing bite-sizers, and the next I was married
and graduated to the big ones.  Like overnight, the muffins and I had grown
up.  Maddie and the boys settled right in to the ritual.  Every once in a while
I felt guilty about the trouble Mrs. Howard went to, but my culinary
satisfaction far outweighed my conscience, so I kept it to myself until the
thought passed.
    Like clockwork, Mrs. Howard was on my doorstep at 8:00 a.m. on
Sunday, her gray hair pinned up in a tidy little bun on her head, basket of
muffins in hand. She gave me her toothy grin as she handed over the goods.
    “Good morning, Mrs. Howard,” I said, peeking under the cloth
napkin. “What do we have today?”
    “Apple pecan,” she said, her eyes sparkling. At 81, Mrs. Howard
was by far my favorite