Chapter 94

Alfred. 

Her eyes widened. "Is it really for me?" She touched the sketchbook reverently, her small fingers tracing the glittery butterflies on the cover. "Nobody ever gives me special presents just for me." She opened it carefully, flipping through the blank pages with growing excitement. 

"There are so many pages! I can draw for days and days!" She looked up suddenly, her expression serious. "Who is Sebastian? Is he your friend? Is he nice like you? Does he like drawings too?" The questions tumbled out rapidly, her curiosity overflowing now that her initial shyness had faded.

"All yours. Maybe you can draw something for our house?" I smiled, handing her a pack of colored pencils I'd tucked into the gift bag. "Sebastian is my husband. He's the mayor of our city, but more importantly, he's very kind and funny. And yes, he loves drawings, especially by talented artists like you." I tapped the sketchbook gently. "He wanted to come meet you today, but he had an important meeting. He asked me to tell you hello, though." I noticed her drawing on the table nearby. "Is that a picture you were working on? Would you show it to me?"

Noah approached more cautiously. "Where's the mayor? Is he coming too?" His voice was quiet but clear, his eyes serious behind small, round glasses that made him look older than his seven years. He wore a neatly buttoned shirt tucked into jeans, his feet in clean but well-worn sneakers. His sandy brown hair was neatly combed, and he stood with perfect posture – a little adult in a child's body. He glanced at Emma's sketchbook with a mixture of curiosity and restraint, as if teaching himself not to show too much interest in toys that weren't his. "Emma said your husband is the mayor. I saw him on TV once at the library. He was talking about building a new park."

"Not today, but he sent these." I showed him a set of colorful toy cars. "He thought you might like them." I watched his face carefully, hoping we'd chosen well. Sebastian had insisted on buying the highest quality die-cast models rather than plastic ones. "He remembered that you like to build things, so these cars can be taken apart and put back together. They come with tiny tools and everything." I held out the small box to him. "Sebastian loves cars too. He has a collection of old model cars in his office. Maybe someday you can see them, if you'd like." I spoke gently, recognizing his caution as the self-protection it was – a common trait in children who had faced disappointment.

The twins stayed at their table, watching us with curious eyes. They were identical with the same light brown curls and freckled cheeks, but I was already learning to tell them apart. Lily wore a small barrette in her hair and seemed to be the more organized of the two, carefully sorting her beads by color. Lucas was creating patterns with his, occasionally glancing our way with shy interest. They were only five, the youngest of the four, and according to their files, had been at the orphanage since they were toddlers. Their small hands moved methodically with the beads, but their attention was clearly divided between their task and watching what gifts Noah and Emma were receiving.

"They're a bit shy," Daniel explained, standing close enough that I could smell his cologne – something woodsy and expensive. "Why don't we join them?" He placed his hand on my shoulder, squeezing gently as if we shared some special connection. "Lucas and Lily have been here the longest of the four. They're quite attached to each other – a package deal, as I like to tell potential parents." He smiled down at me. "But I knew right away you and Sebastian would understand that bond. It takes special people to recognize the importance of keeping siblings together." He looked meaningfully at all four children. "That's why I thought of you for these particular children. Not many families are willing to take four at once, but something told me you two were different."

For the next hour, we played games, read stories, and made paper airplanes. The children gradually warmed up, especially after I showed them photos of their rooms at our house. Emma sat cross-legged beside me on a colorful rug, hanging on my every word as I described the butterfly wallpaper Sebastian and I had chosen for her room. Noah carefully examined the pictures of the built-in bookshelves in his future bedroom, asking practical questions about where he would put his clothes and if he could bring his books from the orphanage. The twins leaned against each other, pointing and whispering as I showed them their connecting rooms with a shared play area in between. "Sebastian thought you might like having your own spaces but still being close to each other," I explained, touched by their wide-eyed wonder. Daniel circled us as we talked, occasionally making notes on a clipboard, but mainly watching my interactions with the children with an intensity that made me slightly uncomfortable.

"Will we each have our own room?" Lucas asked, his first full sentence since I'd arrived. His voice was soft but clear, his eyes wide with wonder as he pointed to the photos. "Lily and me always share. We've never had our own rooms before." He glanced at his sister, their matching brown eyes communicating silently as only twins can. "But we still want to be together sometimes. We have scary dreams if we're alone." He leaned closer to whisper: "The monsters can't get both of us at once if we're together. That's what Lily says." His sister nodded solemnly in agreement, her small hand finding his automatically.

"Yes, and you can decorate them however you want," I promised. "Sebastian and I thought you might like having your own special place, but we also created a special door between your rooms." I pointed to the detail in the photo. "See this little door right here? It connects your rooms, so you can visit each other anytime you want. And if you're scared at night, you can leave it open. No monsters will get past both of you together." I smiled reassuringly. "Plus, Sebastian is very brave and knows exactly how to check for monsters. He does it every night in our house, just to be safe." This wasn't entirely a lie – Sebastian did have an intense security system throughout our home, though it was designed for human threats rather than imaginary ones.