“Is that her?” someone asked in a hushed voice.
Marc’s jaw tilted sideways even though he continued to meet Mari’s gaze. “That’s her.” Marc’s voice lowered in a mock conspiratorial whisper to the young boy who stood next to him.
Marc wasn’t alone on her front porch. She hadn’t initially noticed, thanks to Marc’s powerful presence. No sooner had she seen the tall boy when another child— this one sporting a long, white-blond ponytail—peeked around Marc’s thigh.
“Hello,” the little girl said.
“Hi,” Mari replied, charmed by the child’s huge, blue eyes and sober expression.
She opened the screen door. Her gaze flickered up to Marc, who was warmly watching her. Leave it to him to bring the two children—his niece and nephew?—to lighten the tension of their meeting.
Marc touched the top of the little girl’s head. “You can come out of hiding, Jenny. Mari won’t bite. I don’t think so, anyway.”
She rolled her eyes at Marc before she smiled and beckoned her visitors into the house.
“You two wouldn’t be Colleen’s kids, would you?” Mari asked over her shoulder as she led them down the hallway to the kitchen. She’d heard that, unlike the other Kavanaughs, Colleen had married and had children.
“Yes, Colleen Sinclair is our mom,” the boy said. His adult tone made Mari’s smile widen.
“Marianna Itani, meet my niece and nephew, Jenny and Brendan,” Marc said as they entered the sunny kitchen.
“You said her name was Mari, not Marianna,” Jenny said to her uncle under her breath, as if she was politely trying to correct his error.
“Mari is short for Marianna like Jenny is for Jennifer,” Marc explained.
“Oh,” Jenny uttered while she studied Mari with interest. “You look like a princess.”
“Jenny,” Brendan groaned, clearly embarrassed by his little sister’s forthrightness.
Mari smiled at the girl. “Thank you. You look very much like your mother did when she was close to your age. And it’s a pleasure to meet both of you. Would you like something to drink? Some lemonade?” she added when both children nodded.
Mari poured lemonade and searched through her meager groceries for a snack that might tempt the children. She found a small bag of gourmet, chocolate chip cookies and placed several on a plate. Marc watched her while the kids looked around the large kitchen with interest.
“Brendan told me this house was haunted,” Jenny said as Mari handed her a glass of lemonade and set the cookies on the oak table.
“I did not,” Brendan said, blushing. He was blond, like his sister, although his hair was a shade or two darker. He obviously had already spent a lot of time at one of Harbor Town’s white sand beaches, given his even, glowing tan. Despite Brendan’s dark eyes, Mari couldn’t help but be reminded of Marc at a similar age. “You did. Every time we play outside after dark at Grandma’s, you say it,” Jenny replied before she took a sip of her lemonade and daintily picked up a cookie.
Mari glanced at Marc, and they shared a secret smile. As a child, Colleen had been both a lady and a hell-raiser. It seemed her daughter shared a similar bent.
“Do you mind if we look around?” Brendan asked Mari.
“Feel free, although there isn’t much to see,” Mari said. “Least of all any ghosts, I’m afraid.”
Brendan looked slightly disappointed at this.
“Leave your lemonade on the counter,” Marc directed before the children scurried out of the kitchen.
Mari glanced at Marc, laughter in her eyes. “They’re beautiful.”
“Yeah,” Marc agreed. “They’re great kids. It’s Brendan’s birthday the day after tomorrow. He’ll be ten, but I swear, sometimes it feels like he’s about to turn thirteen.”
“Wants to be fully independent already, huh?”
She heard one of the children speak in the distance. It struck her suddenly that she was alone here in the kitchen with Marc.
“Yeah. Colleen has her hands full with Brendan.” Marc’s low murmur made Mari think he might have become just as aware of her in that moment as she had him. “He keeps needling to let him go to the beach with his friends—no supervision.”
“We used to go on our own at Brendan’s age,” Mari mused.