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“That's probably Antonia and her kids. Her oldest, Ricky, is on the autism spectrum, and holidays can overwhelm him. She brings him over early to show him the tree and let him open his presents; it's too much commotion when the rest of the family is here. Her younger two, Kara and Theo, are hell on wheels.”

“How many nieces and nephews do you have?” Evan asked.

Cam listed them off. “Antonia has the three downstairs, Sylvie is Antonia's twin, and she has three girls. Maria is the oldest, she has two boys, and Lena is closest to me. She's divorced and has one daughter.”

“Nine?”

Cam nodded. “Four boys and five girls.”

Evan blew a lock of hair from her face. “I may need to hang out with Ricky. I can see how that could be intimidating.”

Cam traced his fingertips over her bare shoulder. “You’ll be fine. I’ve got you.”

Cam's sisters and their families had arrived en masse at noon. After his sisters had covered him in teary kisses and met Evan, his nephews had mobbed him, pulling him to the ground, mixing hugs with wrestling moves. Cam had seen them intermittently throughout the years, but he was still amazed at how much the children had grown. Soon the wrapped packages in the next room stole their attention, and the children wasted no time getting to the presents. Cam sat next to his dad and watched the pandemonium. His oldest sister, Maria, tried to keep some semblance of order insisting the kids take turns and thank their grandparents after opening each gift. He saw his mother take Ricky into the kitchen, where he knew she would park him on a stool and put him to work with some small task. A moment later, he noticed Evan, who had been speaking with Lena, follow them. He slipped from the couch while his dad was helping his nephew, Jamie, sit on his new bike.

Cam peered around the doorway and saw Ricky sitting at the kitchen island peeling carrots. Evan was perched on the stool next to him, cutting celery. She focused on her assignment as she spoke. “Your job is more important than mine.”

“Why?” Ricky asked.

“Because carrots are easier to see and taste. Nobody notices the celery,” she said.

“The carrots are important,” he repeated, continuing to peel them.

Kate looked up at her with a warm smile. “I was an only child too. They’re my family, and even I get a little overwhelmed sometimes. It's normally not this crazy. Cam's really showing you the full force of the Canto family.”

“I love it,” Evan replied. “It's exactly how I imagined.”

Over his shoulder, Cam heard a door open and close and a new commotion.

Kate said to Evan. “That will be Cam's grandparents, Aarón's mom and dad. My parents won’t arrive until dinner. They’re a little more sedate than the Canto crew.”

“Thank you for having me, Mrs. Canto.”

“Please, Evan, call me Kate.”

“Kate,” Evan amended. “You’re so kind to include me at the last minute like this.”

His mother snapped the ends off of green beans as she spoke. “What's one more? Besides, I know my son, and if you feel about him the way he feels about you, this will be your first of many family holidays in this house.”

Evan lifted her head to speak just as shouts echoed from the front of the house. “Camilo! Get out here. Your grandparents want to see you with their own eyes!”

Cam backed away, but not before his mother cast a knowing glance in his direction.

He turned and nearly plowed into his sister, Lena. They were the closest in age, only ten months apart, and she and Cam shared a bond.

“Well, well, well, Teen Wolf, still spying, I see.” She called him by his childhood nickname. When she teased him about spying, she wasn’t referring to the CIA. He was routinely chased, screamed at, and grounded for eavesdropping on his older sisters.

“Busted,” Cam confessed.

“She's it for you, yes?”

“Yes.”

“If you tell me you felt dad's stupid zing, I’m going to kick your ass.”

Cam pulled his lips inward.

“You’re kidding?” Lena threw her hands up. “I certainly never felt a zing with Jake. Maybe that's why we’re divorced.” She tapped her chin. “Nah, I’m pretty sure it was the banging the secretary that did it. Maybe she felt a zing.”


Tags: Debbie Baldwin Bishop Security Mystery