Free The Garden of Happy Endings by Barbara O'Neal

toward her. So did Tamsin, bundled up in jeans and a turquoise fleece jacket, her long hair tugged back into a swingy ponytail. “Sorry I’m late,” she said, and handed over a pink-frosted doughnut. “I brought you this.”
    “That was nice,” Elsa said, eyeing the hungry eyes of the boys next to her. How to split a single doughnut three ways? “Do you have any more?”
    “No,” she said. “But I could get some. It would only take a jiffy.”
    The first boy who had spoken up laughed. He had two enormous front teeth with the edges still rippled, and two missing spaces on either side. His nappy hair sparkled with early morning moisture. “Jiffy? What’s that?”
    “In a minute, in a second, quick as a wink,” she said, and illustrated winking. “You want me to go get some?”
    “Later.” Elsa split the doughnut into bite-sized pieces and offered them in her open palm. “One per customer, please.”
    Tamsin sipped her coffee, finally noticing that Deacon was still giving instructions. “Mmm. That’s him, huh? The hottie?”
    “Do you have to talk like you’re nineteen?”
    Tamsin grinned. “You like him.”
    “Don’t be silly. That’s Deacon McCoy, the heavy-equipment guy. Runs a landscaping company here in town.”
    “And he’s
my
Big Brother,” said one of the boys. He was chubby, with long black hair braided into a rubber band at his nape. His coat was too big for him, the grubby sleeves hanging down to his knuckles. “He takes me all kinda places.”
    “How’d you get a Big Brother?” the first boy asked.
    “I dunno. My mom put me on the list, I guess because she says my dad is a dickhead.” He sidled his glance at the women to see if they’d freak.
    Elsa shook her head. “No swearing. I don’t like it. What I do need are names. You,” she said, pointing to the first child.
    “Calvin.”
    She pointed to the boy with the braid. “You.”
    “Mario.”
    A dusky, skinny boy who would be very tall one day. “Tiberius.”
    Elsa paused. “Really?”
    He nodded sadly.
    She mentally pinned names to details, and herded them over to the truck to put on gloves. The small size fit most of them pretty well, and she put on a pair of smalls herself. Tamsin chose the large, and shaded her eyes to look up at Deacon. “Hi!” she said. “I’m Elsa’s sister, Tamsin.” She stuck a hip out, and Elsa felt a twinge of annoyance. Ridiculous.
    But Deacon didn’t fall under Tamsin’s blue-eyed spell. He only gave her a polite nod. “Good morning.” He jumped down from the bed of the truck, and greeted the children. “Tiberius, my man,” he said, slapping his back. “Mario, we on for supper tonight?”
    Calvin tugged on his sleeve. “Hey, how do I get a Big Brother? I want to go out to dinner.”
    Deacon chuckled. “Is that right? Tell you what, I’ll look into it for you, kiddo. How’s that?” He patted him on the back, and called out at a pair of volunteers struggling with a mattress. “Put it all the way to the back!”
    “Come on, kids,” Tamsin said. “Let’s get to work.”
    “How are you this fine morning, Miss Elsa?” Deacon asked, pulling on his own gloves. “Pretty good turnout, wouldn’t you say?”
    “I’m amazed. You’re a natural at community organizing.”
    “Nah, that’s you.” He waved a finger at the people. “Father Jack told me that you’d called everybody, got all this in motion. I knocked on some doors, that’s all.” He eyed her. “That color red looks good on you.”
    Elsa flicked her fingers over the hem of her sweater. “This is the oldest, raggediest sweater I’ve ever owned.”
    “I don’t care. It’s still a good color.” He held her gaze steadily, and in the bright clear morning, his eyes were as blue as the sky behind him. “Say thank you.”
    “Save all your charm for the others, my friend,” she said. “I like you just fine without all that embroidery.”
    He laughed. “I meant it!”
    She nodded, waving as she walked toward the