Page 3 of One Sweet Lie

“What happened while I was gone, Olivia?”

“Nothing.” Her cheeks reddened. “Nothing happened at all.”

“Then why did I get a call from the police?”

“I don’t know.” She shrugged. “I turned off the stove seconds after the countertops caught fire.”

“What?” I rushed past her and into the kitchen.

Jesus Christ.

My custom white backsplash was now sporting black soot, and the flames under the griddle were still burning. I opened every window and programmed every fan to run on full blast.

I took a deep breath and tossed charred towels and pans into the trash.

“Olivia, why didn’t you call me about this?”

“You said not to bother you unless your house was on fire.” She crossed her arms. “This was only the kitchen.”

That’s actually a good point.

“Are you mad at me?” she asked.

“No.” I sighed. “I’m mad at your mother for taking advantage of my limited kindness.” I checked my calendar. “She’s still flying you back to Los Angeles this weekend, correct?”

“Yep.” She nodded. “She said that leaving me with you for four months was long enough.”

“Be sure to tell her you’ve been here fornine,” I said. “Oh, and that she owes me a huge ‘thank you’ in return.”

“Here you go.” She pulled a ‘thanks so much, Big Bro’ card from her pocket, and I held back a laugh.

Even though her mother and I didn’t come from the same bloodline, we’d grown up together as a makeshift quilt of afamily, thanks to desperate adopters who took us in. We were the patchwork pieces no one else wanted, and those feelings were still stitched into us.

I picked up a burnt bottle of sprinkles and shook my head.

“What exactly were you trying to make tonight, Olivia?” I asked.

“Unicorn cupcakes.”

“Next time you feel like cooking sweets, order from a bakery. Clear?”

“Clear. Can I order some now, then?”

Dingggg! Donggg!

“Stay right there.” I rushed to the door, finding myself face to face with a man in a tan suit and a woman dressed in light blue scrubs.

For some strange reason, there were no firefighters standing behind them, and they looked like someone had just died.

“Okay, look,” I said, “Whatever damage my niece caused in this building, I’ll pay for it. Just send me the bill.”

“I’m afraid our presence is about a far more complex issue,” the man said. “This is Nurse Walton from Grace Medical, and I’m the detective who called you earlier. Mind if we come in?”

“If you insist.” I opened the door and motioned for them to follow me. “Ignore the haziness. My niece felt like baking while I was away.”

“Wait a minute.” The detective stopped walking. “You left a seven-year-old child home alone?”

“She’s eight going on nine.”

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