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“Daddy?”
Ben looked down at his little girl. “Yeah, Molly?”
Molly smiled energetically, pure four-year-old, and revealed Abigail’s all-encompassing grin. “Daddy, why didn’t Mommy and Jack come?”
“Why didn’t they come here? Molls, they were just here a minute ago. But Jack wanted to take a look at something else.”
“I like the Declaration, Dad,” eight-year-old Paul announced proudly.
Brief thoughts of telling his son not to steal the document flitted through his head, but he warded them off. “I like the Declaration, too, Paul. Hey, Moll-Doll, do you like the Declaration?”
Molly held her arms up and, briefly letting go of Paul’s hand, Ben hoisted Molly into his arms, and grasped Paul’s hand again.
Molly peered down at the Declaration of Independence. The document, resting in its place of honor and splendor and glory, gleamed under a dim spotlight. A small smile curved on Molly’s face. “It’s pretty, Daddy. Did you ‘n’ Unka Riley take it?”