“She’s seven. I don’t think her eardrums will fully develop until she’s twenty-one or so,” Becca teased.

“Da!” cried the little boy at Becca’s side. “Da!”

“Someone’s listening,” she told Hank with amusement, and beamed down at her toddling son at her side. She was walking the slowest out of all of them, because Henry Junior was just now testing his little legs at the age of fourteen months, and it was darling to watch those chubby little legs move.

“You watch your mama,” Hank told his son as he moved past with the bags. “I’ll be back in a moment. Gotta make sure Libby remembers the way.” He headed off after his daughter, disappearing into the trees after her.

“Da!” Henry said again, pointing after his father.

“That’s right,” Becca told him, proud. “That’s your daddy.” She wanted to reach over and smooth the cowlicks of dark hair crowning the baby’s head, but it was more important to let him stretch his legs after so long in the car. All of them had felt the long car ride, but no one had wanted to leave the dog Alaska behind for weeks while they visited the cabin. Alaska was a long-legged, overeager goofball of a dog who tended to chew things she shouldn’t and get into everything, but she was also fiercely devoted to Libby and it wouldn’t be a bad idea to have another set of eyes on the rambunctious seven-year-old out in the woods. The older Libby got, the more trouble she got into, but it was just a phase, Becca hoped. She’d outgrow it at some point. And if not, well, they’d just have to learn to walk faster to keep up with her.

Henry lifted his arms, indicating that he wanted to be carried, and Becca scooped him up. “Oof, heavy little man,” she murmured. “Come on, let’s go catch up with Daddy.”