Liza tapped the end of Abigail’s nose while nudging her backward into the house, still protecting her. “I brought everyone cake. You can have your portion after lunch, if I don’t drop it on the floor by accident. Your puppy will eat it and then he’ll puke. Remember last time?”

Abigail’s sigh was long-suffering. “That was disgusting. Did you bring Pebbles?”

“I did not. She’d destroy everything in Miss Irina’s house.” Shuddering at the thought of the young Great Dane running loose in the Sokolov house, Liza closed the door securely behind them. Habit had her ruffling Abigail’s hair, but her finger caught in a tangle. “Where’s your brush? You have snarls.” She flexed her fingers. “Let me at ’em. Snarls flee from me in terror.”

Abigail’s childish giggles were like music to Liza’s ears, and suddenly her weariness abated. “Will you do the fancy braid thing?” Abigail asked, looking hopeful. “Like a princess’s crown? Papa can’t make a crown. He tried.”

“Of course I’ll braid your hair.” Liza had grown so fond of Abigail over the last month, gladly taking her to visit her father in the hospital as he recovered from a gunshot wound. A single father, Amos Terrill had always braided Abigail’s hair, so Liza had taken up the job until Amos was discharged. Abigail, however, liked Liza’s “fancy braids” better, so her daddy had been demoted to backup stylist. Liza had thought that Amos would be upset by this, but he loved seeing his little girl settling in with people who made her happiness a priority. Liza patted her pocket, having come prepared. “I brought a bunch of hair ribbons, so you can choose the color I braid in. But I need your brush.”

“I’ll get it.” Abigail ran, her long dark hair flying back behind her like a cape, but stopped abruptly when she nearly crashed into the woman standing in the foyer. “I’m sorry, Miss Irina.”

“It’s fine, Abigail.” Irina Sokolov tilted her head, her blond hair streaked with silver. She was somewhere close to sixty, about four inches shorter than Liza’s five-ten, and huggably round, her brown eyes sparkling with humor and love. She was also a retired nurse, and Liza was about to start nursing school, so they’d clicked right away. “But what are the house rules?”

“No running.”

“And?” Irina prompted, throwing a look at the front door.

Abigail’s shoulders slumped. “And no opening the front door, because it’s not safe.” She peered up at Irina. “I’m sorry. I forgot,” she added meekly. “And I thought it would be Liza.”

Irina nodded, her smile warm. “It’s okay, lubimaya. I don’t mean to make you sad, just safe. The front-door rule will not last forever. I promise. Now, did you finish your math?”

Abigail nodded. “I left it on my desk for you to check.”

“Perfect.” Irina ran a loving hand over Abigail’s hair, making Liza’s heart squeeze with affection for them both. “Go get your brush for Miss Liza.” She stepped back to let the little girl pass, then tugged Liza into a hard hug.