Fingers now multi-colored, he beamed at her and started on the next one.

“Look, Kit.” Regan held up her own in beautiful swirls of green and turquoise.

“That’s beautiful, Regan. I know just the place for it in the garden.”

Regan grinned, then told Aric, “Here, want some of my yellow for that rock?”

The girl was a sweetheart, infinitely patient.

Aric was turning back into the active little monkey he’d been before. Happy and free. Could anything be more wonderful?

Across the courtyard, Frankie came out of her cabin, spotted Kit, and disappeared back inside. When she came out again, she had a tote bag in her hand as she headed for Kit. “Did you call the shelter? What’s going to happen?”

“I did, and the staff will have everyone together in a private room so I can talk to them at two o’clock tomorrow.”

Frankie dropped into a chair, setting her feet up on the railing. “Perfect.” She placed the tote in Kit’s lap. “Here is the money Bull switched over to hundreds for you.”

All the twenties had been too bulky. Packets of $100-dollar bills would be much easier to hand out and conceal. “Awesome. Tell him thank you.”

“I will.” Frankie tapped her lips. “So, we’ll drop you off at the shelter, then go to Bull’s restaurant and let Hawk, Aric, and me enjoy munchies while my poor man gets stuck with the management stuff. Afterward, we’ll pick you back up.”

“Wait.” Kit snickered. “You get the munchies, and Bull is stuck in a boring meeting?”

“Of course.” Frankie put her nose in the air. “I manage the Rescue roadhouse. His restaurants in Homer and Anchorage—and the brewery—are his problem.”

“Oh. Right. I knew that,” Kit said agreeably, knowing that sneaky Bull would eventually talk Frankie into managing more than just one restaurant.

“Are you okay, amica mia?” Frankie reached over and squeezed Kit’s hand. “Will it be hard on you to see them again?”

“Mmm, some? It helps that Aric will stay with Hawk.” Kit smiled at her son, so happily playing with Regan. “I don’t think it’d be good for him to go to the shelter. He saw too many of the women and children getting hurt.”

“So did you,” Frankie said softly. “How close did you get to the other women?”

“We weren’t really friends, exactly. The men didn’t allow us to talk with each other.”

At Frankie’s appalled stare, Kit grimaced and deepened her voice, “ ‘Gossip is the devil’s work’. Unfortunately, some of the women who were true-believers would tattle on any rule breakers.”

Kit had been caned twice before she’d accepted that friendship wouldn’t be part of her life.