He asked, “What on Earth are you doing?”
Flicka stuck her head up over the back of the couch. Yes, something was indeed drawn on her face. “Kitty ha-boo.”
Alina said to him, “Kitty!”
“What’s that on your face?” he asked.
“Whiskers,” she explained like he was obviously an idiot. “Because we’re kitties.”
“Flicka-mama kitty!” Alina told him.
“How long have you beendoing this?” he asked her.
Flicka shrugged. “I don’t know. Since fifteen minutes after you left?”
Almost three hours. “Have you been drinking?”
“I wouldn’tdrinkaround a baby!”
Okay.“I brought supper home.”
“Oh, great. I’ll go wash this eyeliner off my face.”
Alina ran over to Flicka and hugged her leg. “Flicka-mama, up!”
“Oh, okay.” She carried Alina on her hip as she walked upstairs,singing a song about going up the stairs to her.
Dieter watched them, stunned, and tried to think, but his brain was not working.
Flicka was good with kids.
She was good withhiskid.
Huh.
