Wow a new chapter every day. ... I have way too much time on my hands. Haha. Also thank you guys for your reviews! Your support is much appreciated.

At precisely half past two, Laura pulls her car into the driveway of an average sized, modernized home that's very obviously occupied by two little boys. A child-sized bike rests against the porch railing, a basketball hoop stands in the driveway, and numerous balls, action figures, and other toys litter the yard.

Before she can run over the toys in the driveway, Bill Adama dashes out of the house and hurries to gather them up and chuck them into the grass. Once she's pulled up all the way and put the car in park, he opens the door and helps her out of the car.

"Such chivalry, Mr. Adama."

Mr. Adama grins somewhat sheepishly.

"Sorry for the mess. It's hard enough to keep track of the boys, much less their toys."

Laura laughs.

"I understand. Is Lee inside?"

"He is. If you'll follow me . . ."

He lightly ushers her along, up the front porch steps and to the front door.

"Again," he says, stopping before entering the house, "I apologize for the mess."

When he opens the door, Laura steps into a madhouse. Toys are everywhere – the floor, the furniture, the stairs. In the corner by the glass sliding doors in the sitting room a mess of paints has colorfully redecorated the walls and floor, there are scribbles on the walls, and a picture has fallen from its place on the wall.

"Oh!" Laura yelps as a large dog barks and dashes in front of her, followed closely by Lee Adama and an even smaller boy, who are screaming out,

"No Noodles, you can't eat that! Come back! COME BACK!"

"Lee!" Mr. Adama yells, "Lee, Ms. Roslin is here!"

Moments later, Lee comes skidding back around the corner wearing a toothy grin.

"Ms. Roslin!" he cries gleefully, jumping up and down. Then he stops and looks around, horrorstruck.

"I didn't clean . . ."

Laura laughs.

"It's quite all right, Lee. Why don't you go set up your homework and come get me when you're ready?"

"Okay!" Lee dashes off to do just that, and at that same moment Bill Adama appears (when did he leave?) with his three year old in his arms.

"This is Zak," he says, bouncing the child and eliciting a bubbly giggle. "He's pretty easy to handle, just keep him in your sight and give him a snack if he gets fussy. I won't be here to greet you every day, but if the school bus makes it here before you do the neighbor in the blue house next door will hold them for you."

Laura simply nods. She has to admit; this is a little more than she anticipated. But she teaches five and six year olds all day, every day; she can handle it. Mr. Adama hands her the child, asking with an unsure expression,

"You sure you're up for this?"

Laura smirks.

"Yes, Mr. Adama. Please, go – get that business up and running. I honestly can't tell you how pleased I am that a decent bookstore might finally open up somewhere close by. Don't worry, I have everything under control here."

Bill nods, seeming somewhat reluctant, but grabs his bag and heads for the door anyways.

"Thank you," he says again, and, tossing her a small wave, he leaves. Laura sighs. Time to get to work.