“And Mom took care of that.” Ean stepped closer to Megan, resting a hand on the small of her back.
Megan glanced at Ean. Her tense features eased just a bit. “That’s true. Thank goodness for Doreen.”
“Everyone deserves a second chance, wouldn’t you agree?” Darius appealed to Megan’s well-known sense of fairness.
“I’d agree.” Ramona nodded.
Megan spun on her. “Of course you would. You’re the one who hired him—again.”
“If Stan’s not sober, we’ll take care of it,” Jackson said. “But it’s worth the risk to give Stan another chance.”
Megan switched her glare from Ramona to Jackson. “How will you take care of it?”
Jackson shrugged. “I’ll take him home.”
“And I’ll take his place reading to the kids.” Ramona grinned. “They enjoyed my reading last year.”
Megan looked from Jackson to Ramona, then back. “All right.”
Darius’s relief was short-lived as Megan zeroed in on him, Jackson, and Ean. They were on the precipice of another crisis.
Megan clenched her fists. “Oh, for heaven’s sake! Where are your costumes?”
Ean rushed to reassure her. “We’re wearing costumes. I’m a corporate executive. I’m even wearing a power tie.” He smoothed the red silk fabric.
“I’m a repairman.” Jackson wore a brown flannel shirt tucked into faded blue jeans.
Megan narrowed her eyes at Darius. “Isn’t that the same outfit you wore last year?”
Darius touched his gray stitch fedora. The name tag on his teal sweater read MEMBER OF THE PRESS. “I couldn’t think of anything else.”
“It barely passed for a costume last year.” Megan scowled.
“Oh, here’s Peyton.” Ramona’s voice was excited. “Doesn’t she look great?”
Darius looked over his shoulder . . . and almost swallowed his tongue. That was Dr. Peyton Harris?
The pocket-sized siren striding toward him looked as though someone had painted her into an old-school Catwoman costume. She’d accessorized her black stretch polyester jumpsuit with matching gloves, a gold belt, and a long, gold coin necklace. Her headband with feline ears peeked over the top of her riot of copper curls. The university professor appeared to have stepped straight out of the campy 1960s Batman television series.
“You look fantastic.” Ramona greeted the shorter woman with a hug. Darius wanted to change places with the mayor.
Peyton returned Ramona’s embrace. “Thank you. I’ve never worn anything this revealing before.” She sounded nervous.
The professor stepped back and somehow ended up standing right beside him. How had Ramona managed that? Not that Darius was complaining.
“Thank you for wearing a costume.” Megan sent a scathing look toward him, Ean, and Jackson. “Not everyone got into the spirit of the event.”
Ean protested. “Honey, we’re wearing costumes. They’re just very simple.”
Peyton gave Darius a once-over. Her gaze lingered on his fedora. “What are you supposed to be?”
Darius tapped the white sticky label affixed to his sweater. “I’m the press.”
“Are you serious?” Peyton laughed. The warm sound bubbled up from her chest to pour over him like spring water. “You could have put a little more effort into it.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.” Peyton’s caramel eyes danced with amusement. “Maybe you could have used a prop like an audio recorder or even a pen. But really, this is just sorry.” Her voice broke on more laughter.