Local Hero by Nora Roberts

buried under a pillow. He would have ignored it, but Taz rolled over, stuck his snout against Mitch’s cheek and began to grumble in his ear. Mitch swore and shoved at the dog, then snatched up the receiver and dragged it under the pillow.
    â€œWhat?”
    On the other end of the line, Hester bit her lip. “Mitch, it’s Hester.”
    â€œSo?”
    â€œI guess I woke you up.”
    â€œRight.”
    It was painfully obvious that Mitch Dempsey wasn’t a morning person. “I’m sorry. I know it’s early.”
    â€œIs that what you called to tell me?”
    â€œNo . . . I guess you haven’t looked out the window yet.”
    â€œHoney, I haven’t even looked past my eyelids yet.”
    â€œIt’s snowing. We’ve got about eight inches, and it’s not expected to let up until around midday. They’re calling for twelve to fifteen inches.”
    â€œWho are they?”
    Hester switched the phone to her other hand. Her hair was still wet from the shower, and she’d only had a chance to gulp down one cup of coffee. “The National Weather Service.”
    â€œWell, thanks for the bulletin.”
    â€œMitch! Don’t hang up.”
    He let out a long sigh, then shifted away from Taz’s wet nose. “Is there more news?”
    â€œThe schools are closed.”
    â€œWhoopee.”
    She was tempted, very tempted to hang up the phone in his ear. The trouble was, she needed him. “I hate to ask, but I’m not sure I can get Radley all the way over to Mrs. Cohen’s. I’d take the day off, but I have back-to-back appointments most of the day. I’m going to try to shift things around and get off early, but—”
    â€œSend him down.”
    There was the briefest of hesitations. “Are you sure?”
    â€œDid you want me to say no?”
    â€œI don’t want to interfere with any plans you had.”
    â€œGot any hot coffee?”
    â€œWell, yes, I—”
    â€œSend that, too.”
    Hester stared at the phone after it clicked in her ear, and tried to remind herself to be grateful.
    Radley couldn’t have been more pleased. He took Taz for his morning walk, threw snowballs—which the dog, on principle, refused to chase—and rolled in the thick blanket of snow until he was satisfactorily covered.
    Since Mitch’s supplies didn’t run to hot chocolate, Radley raided his mother’s supply, then spent the rest of the morning happily involved with Mitch’s comic books and his own sketches.
    As for Mitch, he found the company appealing rather than distracting. The boy lay sprawled on the floor of his office and, between his reading or sketching, rambled on about whatever struck his fancy. Because he spoke to either Mitch or Taz, and seemed to be content to be answered or not, it suited everyone nicely.
    By noon the snow had thinned to occasional flurries, dashing Radley’s fantasy about another holiday. In tacit agreement, Mitch pushed away from his drawing board.
    â€œYou like tacos?”
    â€œYeah.” Radley turned away from the window. “You know how to make them?”
    â€œNope. But I know how to buy them. Get your coat, Corporal, we’ve got places to go.”
    Radley was struggling into his boots when Mitch walked out with a trio of cardboard tubes. “I’ve got to stop by the office and drop these off.”
    Radley’s mouth dropped down to his toes. “You mean the place where they make the comics?”
    â€œYeah.” Mitch shrugged into his coat. “I guess I could do it tomorrow if you don’t want to bother.”
    â€œNo, I want to.” The boy was up and dragging Mitch’s sleeve. “Can we go today? I won’t touch anything, I promise. I’ll be real quiet, too.”
    â€œHow can you ask questions if you’re quiet?” He pulled the boy’s collar up. “Get Taz, will you?”
    It was