Everhope - Summer of '22 Book II - 1. Arrival

“Thanks for doing this, Mark.” CJ shook the man’s hand while bouncing Liebe in his arms. “Say hi to Mark, Munchkin. He’s a friend of ours.”

She had slept most of the flight and remained drowsy. “Hi.” The accompanying smile was faint while she rubbed her eyes.

“You’re cuter than you look in pictures, kid.” Mark relieved CJ of the backpack threatening to slip off his shoulder. “Nothing to thank me for. You guys hired us to provide security, and hell if I was gonna allow anyone else to be assigned. You guys are family.” He offered Owen his hand. “What’s up, Ozzie? Nice tan.”

“That’s what a few days in the Florida sun will do. I’ll echo CJ. Thanks for picking us up. It’s a hell of a lot better to recognize someone than to look for our name on a sign.”

Mark Strong had been a resident at Heroes Haven when a documentary about the tiny houses community for homeless military veterans was filmed. A Home for Heroes, produced by Owen, CJ, and his fathers and narrated by Brad Kennedy, had won an Oscar for best documentary. Mark had been invaluable in helping Brad navigate his time at the village.

“How bad is it gonna be?” CJ allowed Liebe to slide down his body when she asked to walk; the girl held his hand as they strolled through Washington’s National Airport.

Brad Kennedy, former Army Ranger and part of CJ and Owen’s inner circle, had been Everhope’s caretaker while the couple lived in Mexico City. He had mentioned journalists and paparazzi had stopped by several times and knocked on the front door. It made him tape a note to it informing everyone the family was traveling and their return date was unknown. A couple of persistent individuals returned daily nonetheless.

Aware they could face a mob of reporters, well-wishers, and possibly some unbalanced individuals when they returned, Owen insisted on hiring bodyguards. Following his request, Brad called Mark at DMV Security on their behalf.

“I stopped by your place after I got the call, and it wasn’t bad. But once the news gets out, you guys are back in town…” Mark shrugged, indicating he had no idea what it would be like.

“Mum said we made the news in Australia, but it was a short report heavy on our connection to the Hunter Valley.”

“Yeah, well, that’s Australia. Here, you’ve been in the news a lot. National and even more locally. The White House announcing you guys would visit the president on Friday didn’t exactly quiet things down. We’re gonna try to sneak you guys in through tenth.”

Everhope, the nineteenth-century structure CJ and Owen had painstakingly rehabbed, was located in the historic Capitol Hill neighborhood. A cross-shaped alley bisected their block; one leg ran next to the house and the other provided access to the back of the properties. Since their home fronted 11th Street, entering from the other direction would offer a straight shot into the carriage house. Mark had borrowed a garage door opener and hit the button to lower it as soon as the SUV was inside.

A grinning redhead waited for them when they stepped out of the vehicle. “Could I have your autograph, Mr. Abelló? You’re my hero. You’re such a stud.” Brad cracked up when CJ showed him a middle finger.

Owen, his head inside the car while untangling Liebe from her seat, missed his husband’s response. He had his own. “Don’t start, Brad. We know CJ’s gonna love all the damn attention. Me? Not so much.”

CJ winked at Brad. “Ozzie and Ritch recently called me a media ho.”

Mark and the driver laughed along with everyone. “Listen, why don’t you guys get inside? We’ll wait to open the door until you’re out of sight before we move the car.”

“Where are you guys going?”

“Not far. I already stationed a vehicle at the 11th Street entrance, and we’re gonna use this one on the other side. I’ll have a man inside each, so if a resident shows up, we can let them pass. I’m trying to prevent satellite trucks from hemming us in.”

Owen did not look happy. “You think it’s going to be that bad?”

“Yeah… You guys are a hot item, Ozzie. I’m sure a spotter saw us drive in and already made calls.” Mark looked at his wristwatch and smiled. “It’s a little past one; betcha they’ll be out in force within two hours. The local stations will want something for their early evening news. Even if it’s just the front door.”

CJ appeared lost in thought when he hugged Brad and walked inside the house. He was not ready for the reddish-haired monster that jumped on him and made him lose his balance.

“Wingnut!” Liebe accompanied the shrill shout with insistent wriggling. When Owen let her down, she squealed in delight while the dog ran his tongue over her face.

CJ recovered with a helping hand from his husband. “That was unexpected. Damn affectionate dog.”

“Look at it on the bright side, Ceej. The pup might help her deal with missing you-know-who.” Owen was close. It would not entirely make Liebe stop mentioning Infanta, her Mexican nanny, but Wingnut was a good distraction for the time being. “What are those?” He looked at Brad while pointing at several large trash bags piled in the den.

“You two are gonna love this.” He rescued Liebe from the licking dog and carried her to one of the bags. “Take a look inside, kiddo.”

Her screech was as loud as before when she pulled out a stuffed lion. A moment later, out came a bear. Another one followed before she tossed back a dog.

CJ and Owen stared at each other, and both were definitely confused. “Who dropped these off?”

“No idea. Reporters haven’t been the only ones stopping by. People started leaving them, along with balloons, toys, flowers, and whatnot, as soon as the news hit. Flowers and balloons I’ve sent to the hospital. There’s a couple hundred stuffed animals in those bags. I kept the notes and letters for you guys.”

“Do they have contact info?”

“Only a couple.”

“Guess we’ll have to do a blanket thank you in public.” CJ turned to Owen. “What do you think, Oz?”

“No way are we letting her keep all of them. She can choose a few, but the rest we’ll donate to the children’s hospital or a homeless shelter.”

CJ nodded his agreement.

Sometime later, a police siren drew their attention. Flashing blue lights bled through the edge of the front room’s curtains. “Crap!” CJ had taken a peek and was unhappy with what he saw. “There’s a shitload of cars and vans out there, blocking traffic. Cops are trying to move them out of the way and don’t look pleased. The neighbors are gonna hate having us back.”

“Great! We’re in town for a couple of hours, and we’ve outworn our welcome. We need to get rid of all those people.” Owen sounded exasperated.

“Not our fault…” CJ left the comment unfinished, then inspiration struck. “But I think I know how to deal with it.” He turned to find three men staring at him. “Oz, I think we should make an appearance.”

“What?” If Owen sounded surprised, Brad and Mark looked stunned.

“Hear me out. If we don’t say anything, they’ll keep pestering us. I might be able to cajole them into leaving us alone. At least for a bit.”

Brad grinned. “And how you gonna do that, rock star?”

CJ once again offered his friend a middle finger. “Fuck, rock star.”

“Sorry, but that’s Ozzie’s job.”

“Asshole!” CJ was glad Wingnut occupied Liebe’s attention. “I’ll make a statement, we can thank well-wishers, and request privacy. You don’t have to say anything if you don’t want to, Oz. And I’ll start by telling them we won’t take questions.”

A sigh accompanied Owen’s resigned expression. “Fine. I trust you. But we’re not putting Liebe in front of that mob.”

“Agreed. Brad and Mark can watch her while we stand on the front steps.” With everyone nodding, CJ decided it was time to act. He reached for Owen’s hand and interlocked their fingers.

“Why do I feel like a Christian being led to the lions?” Owen asked.

“Yeah? What about me? I’m not even a Christian!” CJ shook his head, opened the inner door, and closed it once he and Owen stood in the vestibule. Inhaling deeply, he turned the doorknob on the outer one.

Bright lights and television cameras aimed at reporters were turned in their direction while photographers snapped pictures. Everyone shouted simultaneously, and it was impossible to decipher most of what was said. CJ raised his free hand, trying to quiet them.

“Good afternoon. I’m CJ Abelló, and this is my husband, Owen Liston. I have a statement to make, but we won’t be taking any questions.”

“Where’s your daughter? Is Liebe okay? Why isn’t she with you?” The shouted question from a good-looking blonde made Owen cringe.

CJ was enraged. Considering they had come out voluntarily and offered a statement, he thought the no-questions request would be honored. A stupid assumption, he belatedly realized. “Who are you?”

“Morgana Butler. Fox News.” Perfect white teeth flashed when she spoke.

“Yeah… Figures you’re with Fox. You fit the stereotype perfectly. Pretty, dark roots, and not prone to listening.” CJ was tempted to mention the fake breasts, but Owen yanking on his arm stopped him.

In the ensuing sepulchral silence, Owen’s whisper was audible to those in front. “You can’t say that!”

“Just did.” CJ shrugged and returned his attention to the media. “What part of we’re not taking questions did you not understand? Anyone else wanna say something stupid?” With Butler visibly fuming while staring at the ground and multiple individuals smirking, CJ steeled himself. “Our daughter, Elizabeth, was kidnapped some days ago in Mexico City. During her rescue, I shot the kidnapper. Aside from a horrifying scare and some bruises and scratches, we are physically well.

“As you might imagine, we’re in shock, and it will take some time for us to feel entirely safe again. We will not hide what happened from our daughter, but we will explain matters to her in an age-appropriate fashion at the right time. We do not want her exposed to you just yet.” His grin drew understanding nods from several listeners.

CJ cupped his hand next to Owen’s ear to prevent anyone from hearing or reading his lips. “I’m gonna take a couple of questions to piss the Fox bimbo off.”

Owen visibly struggled to maintain a serious expression while nodding.

“In time, Owen and I will sit and answer questions from the press. Right now, we’d like to thank everyone in Mexico City and at our embassy there who played a role in us recovering our daughter safely. And we want to acknowledge the well-wishers who’ve left us messages, gifts, and plush toys for our girl. If we have your contact information, we’ll be in touch.”

CJ was impressed the reporters had listened without further interruptions. “On the positive side, it’s great to be back home in The District. Thank you for humoring me and not interrupting. Y’all been so good, Owen gave me permission to answer a couple of questions. Just not from Fox.”

Morgana Butler did not look pleased. “Figures! All you left-wing liberals are the same. You’re scared of talking to real reporters.”

“You’re displaying your ignorance, Ms. Butler. This not-so-liberal liberal has appeared on your network before. And I’ll be happy to do so again with a real reporter.” CJ pointed at a short woman struggling to be seen behind taller individuals. He grinned. “Hope you have an intelligent question.”

Those he called on were respectful and mostly pitched softballs. CJ answered half a dozen and ended the impromptu press conference. He hoped it would calm the frenzy.

“Open up, shitheads!” An open palm slapping against the door accompanied Rod’s words.

CJ, sitting on the den’s couch, lifted Liebe off his lap and stood her on the floor. “Go open the door for Rod and Taisha, Munchkin.”

“It’s locked, Ceej. She can’t move the deadbolt.” Owen stood to let their visitors inside.

Taisha wrapped her arms around Owen before saying a word. “It’s so good to see you guys. You scared the crap out of me.” She leaned to kiss CJ on the forehead and scooped Liebe into her arms at the same time. “I’m so glad you’re okay, baby.”

CJ was confused. “Hey, cuz, T. How come you guys came to the side instead of using the front door?”

Rod bumped fists with both men. “We wanted to avoid the TV crews. A couple of them are doing stand-ups out on the sidewalk.”

“Those people are relentless. CJ made a statement and answered a few questions, but they persist.” Owen motioned for the guests to take a seat. “I hope they’ll go home soon and leave us alone.”

“What are you guys up to?” Taisha sat with Liebe on her lap with the girl ignoring the TV she had been watching. “You get cuter every time I see you. Did you know Rod and I live next to you now?”

Rodney Abelló was CJ’s cousin. Taisha was his wife, and the couple had recently bought and moved into the house across the alley from Everhope.

When the girl pointed at the courtyard and the brick wall facing Everhope, Taisha shook her head. “Not that one, Liebe.” She tilted her head in the opposite direction. “The one on that side.”

“I’m totally pissed at that Mexican guy.” Rod reached for the wine bottle on the coffee table and grinned. “T and I didn’t even get the chance to visit you down there. Nothing a couple of glasses of a good Liston wine won’t fix.”

CJ threw a thumb over his shoulders. “You know where the glasses are. T, to answer your earlier question, after the impromptu press conference, we started working through messages. It’s gonna take us a while.”

“I bet. If the media frenzy outside’s any indication, you guys will be a hot commodity for a while. Where’s Brad? What are you guys doing for dinner?”

“Brad had a study group meeting.” The former Army Ranger was a student at American University. “As for dinner, we planned on ordering something a bit later.”

“Good. We’re eating together. How does pizza from Romano’s sound? Our treat.” Taisha took the water bottle Rod brought her while he poured wine for himself.

Owen raised his glass for a toast. “To being back in D.C. and having you guys next door. I’m glad you moved into the neighborhood.”

“So are we, Ozzie.” Taisha screwed the top back on her water bottle and placed it on the coffee table. “We heard you’re going to the White House on Friday. What else do you guys have going on this week?”

“Clothes shopping for Liebe and haircuts for all three of us tomorrow. On Saturday, we’re having a couple of people over for dinner.” CJ glanced at Owen and noticed a nearly imperceptible nod. “You guys should join us. One of the guys coming over’s Lincoln.” FBI agent Lincoln Erickson was part of Liebe’s rescue effort, his vest stopped a couple of bullets, and he had rotated back to the States once medically cleared to travel.

“We can’t, CJ.” Taisha sounded apologetic. “We made plans to go out with Aja. By the way, she’s been asking about you guys.”

“Bring her with. It’ll be good to see her again.” The last time they interacted with the woman had been at their Memorial Day party the previous year.

“This is Ali, Munchkin. You probably don’t remember, but he gave you your first haircut.” CJ, with Liebe in his arms, turned so she could see the man.

The previous night, after putting her to bed, CJ and Owen had spent time talking with Rod and Taisha. Because the two of them had to be at work early the next day, it was not a late night. CJ and Owen promised to stop by their office the next day.

“You’re a cute girl, Liebe. Are you okay with me trimming your hair a bit?” Ali smiled when the kid shrugged. “Why don’t I take care of her first? I remember when my kids were her age and how fast they changed their minds.” Ali Suliman owned The Polished Man, an upscale men’s salon in Georgetown, CJ, and Owen had patronized since its opening.

CJ sat Liebe on the booster seat Ali placed on one of the old-fashioned barber chairs. “That works. When you’re done with her, I’ll take her upstairs. My dads said everyone wants to see her. You can do Ozzie while I’m gone.”

Brett Davenport and César Abelló, CJ’s fathers, had purchased and rehabbed the Georgetown Theater on Wisconsin Avenue years before. They partitioned the cavernous structure to create retail spaces on the ground floor, with offices and apartments on the upper two. The Polished Man had occupied one of the storefronts since the building was finished.

Since neither CJ nor Owen had shaved in a couple of weeks, and because they were visiting the White House the next day, they booked appointments with Ali. Before meeting the barber, they took an agreeable Liebe to a children’s store down the block, and bought her a new dress to wear when they met with the president. They bribed her with the promise of tacos for lunch.

They took turns upstairs, visiting with the crew of the family’s real estate company, Third Line Development. Brett and César wound up walking the six blocks to Los Cuates with them and paying for lunch.

“CJ!”

Owen shook his head and rolled his eyes. “We’re back for a couple of days, and your name gets called out already? In the White House?”

“We’ve arrived at the big time, Oz. This time we were invited directly instead of because of Ritch,” CJ smiled and extended his hand to the woman rapidly approaching them. “You have us at a disadvantage. We have no idea who you are.”

She chuckled. “Well, I think anyone who watched the news last night would recognize the two of you.” She shook Owen’s hand while staring at Liebe. “Nice to meet you, Owen. I enjoyed how you guys put that Fox reporter in her place. It’s always fun to watch someone slap down people like that.”

The tall woman gave Liebe her full attention. “You, little one, you’re adorable.” She straightened and indicated they should walk with her. “I’m Allison Cregg. I’ll escort you to the Oval Office and hopefully get a chance to chat for a few minutes afterward.”

President Biden, his chief of staff, and a photographer were already in the room; the First Lady entered from the opposite direction at the same time. She ignored her husband and approached the visitors. “Hi, I’m Jill Biden.”

“It’s a pleasure meeting you, Dr. Biden.” Owen’s greeting and handshake were repeated by CJ.

“Any chance I could hold her? She’s adorable.”

Owen made sure Liebe could see the first lady. “She’s the president’s wife, Liebe. Can she hold you?” When the girl nodded, Owen passed her over. “She’s heavy, Dr. Biden.”

“Bah! Not my first rodeo. Although I haven’t held a toddler in a while. You and your husband talk to Joe. I think I want to spend my time with your daughter.”

President Biden introduced them to the other two men in the room.

Owen was the first to shake the president’s hand. “Thank you for inviting us to visit, Mr. President.”

Biden motioned them toward one of the couches in the middle. “Have a seat, gentlemen.”

Before they could oblige, there was a knock on the door, and a butler carried in a silver coffee set. “Just set it down, George. Thank you.” Biden turned toward his guest. “Coffee?”

Both nodded, but CJ did so only out of respect. He was concerned his bladder might complain after the countless cups he had already consumed. While the most powerful man in the world poured, CJ discreetly glanced at his surroundings.

Incoming presidents personalized the office, with the curtains being the most noticeable item changed. CJ recalled Obama’s were red. He had read Biden replaced Trump’s deep gold ones with a lighter shade of the same color. He tried not to react outwardly, but it was hard not to grin when he glanced at a collage of portraits.

The news had noted a painting of Andrew Jackson had hung where one of Franklin Roosevelt now anchored a cluster that included George Washington, Abraham Lincoln, Alexander Hamilton, and Thomas Jefferson. Trump had chosen to honor the man responsible for the relocation of Native Americans out of their ancestral lands. Biden, in contrast, picked the nation’s father, the man who saved the union, the one who held the country together during a war, and two founding fathers who did not agree with each other. A racist autocrat versus a collection of men who worked to protect the United States. Then again, Trump held no love for the country, only himself. How else could one explain his trying to overthrow the government?

“Yes, Mr. President. I’d like to take a leave of absence for the summer, but I have a meeting at the Nature Conservancy next week to discuss my options.” Owen’s voice snapped CJ out of his ruminations. “Instead of being a full-time employee, I’d like to try working as a consultant on specific projects.”

“What about you, CJ? What are your plans, pal?”

CJ looked up from his cup and met the president’s stare. He was sure he saw a twinkle in them. And it reminded him he was in the presence of someone with decades of political experience who knew how to negotiate with or manipulate others. CJ smelled a setup and decided to tread carefully. He did not want to antagonize the man, who technically was still his boss.

“I have a meeting at State on Monday, sir.”

Biden chuckled. “Barack warned me you were smart. Nice non-answer.”

CJ smirked and shrugged while Owen rolled his eyes.

“Following your name being on a daily, after your interaction with the Russians in December, it appeared in another briefing a couple of months later, When a second foreign intelligence officer approached you. Then came the incident that brought you back to the United States. After you agreed to visit today, I asked for details about you.”

All CJ could think of was Steven Northman and his complaints.

“Except for what I was told was an outlier whose opinion may have been tainted by personal dislike, all I’ve read is good, and Margaret Cox”—the U.S. Ambassador to Mexico—“wrote an exit report saying she would love to work with you again. But, of course, we would not send you back to Mexico.”

CJ was amazed at how much he had been discussed. He knew presidential briefing memos were properly named; they were brief. He wondered how much more Biden had.

“I won’t bore you with details since I don’t have them, but I was given a list of opportunities. State wants to keep you. The CIA wants to poach you. The FBI inquired as to your availability.” Biden used a thumb to point at Ron Klein, his chief of staff, leaning against the mantle. “And that one wants you in the White House.”

“Can’t have too many Hoyas around.” Ronald Allan Klein was, like CJ, a Georgetown University graduate. “Plus, I read the full version of all those memos. Kid, you’ve impressed a bunch of people. Mr. President, I believe CJ could go work almost anywhere he wants to.

“He and Owen spearheaded an educational project in Mexico and convinced Jeff Bezos and Amazon to underwrite—”

“Not entirely, Mr. Klein. The Davenport Family Foundation was the initial funding source for the project.” Owen interrupting and correcting the man was so out of character CJ knew it was something they would discuss. He liked his husband voicing his opinion in public instead of always deferring to him and hoped it would happen often. Particularly when it was to exalt the family’s charitable arm. But did he have to do it in front of the President of the United States?

“I stand corrected. Mr. Liston’s right. Their foundation started the ball rolling. What I was trying to say was Bezos mentioned CJ when answering a question about why he and Amazon had supported the project.” A grinning Klein looked at CJ. “Did you really turn down a job offer from him?”

CJ shrugged. “I was still in college. But I knew then making money wasn’t a priority. Our family has enough. State appealed because I thought I could make a difference.”

“I’m sure he’ll come calling again.”

Biden leaned in CJ’s direction. “You got a tough choice ahead, pal. Lots of opportunities.”

“Actually, Mr. President, it won’t be a difficult decision at all. I’m declining all of them.”

“May I ask why?”

“I don’t have enough experience for the type of position I’d want at State. The CIA might not be so eager to have me when I tell them Owen needs the same security clearance I’d get because I won’t keep anything from him. And as much as working in your White House would be an honor, my limited experience would once again restrict what kind of position I could hold. Instead, I’m returning to school for an advanced degree, and Owen supports my decision.”

After trailing Liebe as she explored the Oval Office, Dr. Biden had walked the girl over to the couches and sat her between her and the president. “Good for you, young man. You have to know I’ll always support advanced education.” Dr. Biden’s doctorate in education and her continued teaching had been the subject of countless reports.

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“I guess that’s settled.” Biden paused while Liebe lowered herself to the floor and scampered toward her fathers. "And I guess she’s had enough of the old dude.” Everyone reciprocated his smile. “Allow me to change the subject for a moment. Following our conversation last week, I was reminded I’d met the two of you before. At a banquet.”

“We did meet before, Mr. President. When you spoke at the Human Rights Campaign gala. The picture we took that night still hangs on a wall at my parents’ house.”

“Speaking of pictures”—the President glanced at the assistant who had met them and escorted them to the Oval Office—“Allison, do you have it?”

“Right here, Mr. President.” She handed over a manila folder Biden placed on his lap without opening.

“I obviously meet a lot of people, and sometimes I forget them. Not a good look for politicians, but I blame the sheer volume. However, I rarely come across the same name three times in six months. You’re one of the few, CJ.

“Back in December, Barack called me. Because most former presidents are also briefed on national security matters, he wanted to talk about you. He did it again earlier this month. He mentioned he knew you and told me you might enjoy seeing this.”

Inside the envelope, CJ found a picture of himself, sitting at the Resolute desk with President Obama leaning against it next to him. He recalled a White House photographer at the time, Peter Souza, taking it. “Wow! That was a minute ago. My brother and I were invited to the National Christmas Tree lighting, and Eva Longoria made a big deal out of knowing me.”

“Barack did mention you were a celebrity magnet. We’ll make sure we take a similar shot so you can hang them side by side. I assume you don’t have one with my predecessor.”

“Not a chance, Mr. President. Although I respect the office, I have nothing but contempt for the previous incumbent. I don’t particularly like traitors.”

“Ouch!” The exclamation proved Dr. Biden was paying attention to the conversation. “We were warned you were outspoken. I like it.”

Owen shook his head. “Please don’t encourage him. He already went off on a reporter yesterday, and I fear what he may do next.”

Biden looked on approvingly. “Don’t be too harsh on him, Owen. My previous press secretary enjoyed doing the same when a certain network’s White House reporter asked her silly questions.”

“Same network but different reporter, Mr. President.”

Including the time spent taking staged photographs in addition to the candid ones shot while talking, they spent about a quarter-hour visiting. While saying goodbye, President Biden made CJ promise if he changed his mind about school, he would reach out, and Klein would find a position for him in the White House.

Allison talked while escorting them through the maze of corridors. “A couple of more items, gentlemen. President and Dr. Biden would be delighted if you joined us on the Fourth. The Independence Day celebration is always enjoyable, and you’ll have an outstanding view of the fireworks.”

CJ did not need to look at Owen; he knew what his husband would say. “Thank you, Allison. And please thank the president and first lady on our behalf, but we must decline.”

Cregg appeared surprised. She was likely not used to people turning down presidential invitations.

“After what we’ve gone through, Owen and I crave time with family and friends. My parents host a party every year, and we need to be there. People are flying in just to spend time with us.”

“I understand. Family’s always a priority. Final item. I’ll reach out with details later, but the President would like the two of you as part of a delegation headed to Tokyo at the beginning of November. The subject’s technology in education, and we think the two of you can provide insight based on your experience.”

CJ and Owen nodded in agreement. But CJ knew Biden might not even know about the conference. He suspected Ron Klein was pulling the strings.

When Liebe was born, CJ’s maternal grandmother relocated to Washington to take care of the girl. Aba, as everyone called her, had taken the back room on Everhope’s second floor. She returned to Miami when CJ, Owen, and Liebe left for Mexico City.

At that point, Brad Kennedy agreed to be their home’s caretaker and moved into the front room on the same floor. He was taking courses over the summer, and was in class when the family returned from the White House.

Ditching the suits and Liebe’s dress, they donned shorts and t-shirts. “Hey, Munchkin, you ready for a baby brother or sister?” Owen grinned when she nodded. Once CJ had met with the surrogate and IVF doctor earlier in the year, they began talking to Liebe about getting a sibling. They wanted her to start thinking about not being an only child.

“So, when the new baby comes, we’ll put the railing back on the crib for them.” CJ tried to ensure she understood what would happen. “That means you get a new room and a new bed. Wanna help decide what the bedroom’s going to look like?”

Once again, the girl nodded. They chose to put her in the rear one on the floor between theirs and Brad’s, but they wanted to make it hers. That meant removing the generic furniture and décor and repainting.

“Okay, Munchkin. We’ll look for furniture later, but let’s figure out the walls. What color should we paint?” CJ stood her on the bed, and Liebe decided to jump around, squealing instead of answering.

Owen cracked up. “Attention span of a two-year-old. Liebe, what color do you want your room to be?”

“Green!” Liebe did not stop bouncing, but at least she replied.

“Okay…” CJ grinned. “You get the point for that one, Oz. Munchkin! Stop one minute.”

She did by collapsing on her back, laughing.

“And what do you want on your walls? You have the painting Grandpa A bought you, but that’s not enough.”

César had made a big deal out of his granddaughter starting an art collection at birth. He purchased a whimsical Tic Tac Toe board by a young California artist. Painted in primary colors, it would look good against most backgrounds.

“Butterflies!”

“I like that, Munchkin. Great idea.” Owen slowly turned while looking at the walls. “I have one of my own. How about we put the bed against the window wall, hang the painting between the bathroom and closet doors, and use the long one for butterflies? Maybe we can find something for sale, or we can commission—”

“A mural?” CJ thought it would be easy to paint over if she outgrew it.

“That’s awesome, Ceej. Come on, Munchkin. Let’s go google butterfly art and see what we find.”