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“The welcoming committee is here,” Iris said, eyes flicking toward movement at the edge of the woods before returning to peer over the hood of the car. The headlights weren’t doing much, and Adam had reminded her of Evie’s habit of leaving her bicycle in inconvenient places.
The car was barely in park when Rachel and Evie sprinted up to the passenger door, stopping just short of pressing their faces against the glass.
“Scratch that,” Iris said, and Adam heard her amusement. “It’s the Adam Rutledge Fan Club.”
Adam swallowed, throat dry, and his hand strayed to the bump that was his mother’s key. When Iris gave it back to him in the hospital, he hadn’t thought to ask who had fixed the chain. “At least I can still sign autographs.”
“Hey,” Iris said, squeezing his arm. “It’s only JJ an
