She turned to him and smiled. “Basically.”
“Seriously, Steph. I lived on my own for how many years? I can do the shopping. I’m getting out more. Not sure I need to go all the way to Costco for milk, though.” He turned to take the year’s supply of toilet paper upstairs as she shoved a gallon into the fridge. Unlike the freezer, there was plenty of space in there.
“You’re welcome,” she called up after him.
When he came back down, she was dividing up fresh vegetables.
“It’s like you expect us to actually cook or something,” he said, taking a few tomatoes from her along with a couple of lemons.
“I do. You’re feeling better, and Dad needs real food. People can’t live on frozen potpies and corn dogs.”
“Uh, yes they can.”
She pushed a block of cheese and a box of eggs big enough for the firehouse at him. “No, they can’t, Mark. Dad works hard. Make him good food.”
He sighed, putting the eggs and cheese in the fridge. They sat down at the table, and Stephanie scooted the baby carrier closer.
“So, speaking of getting out more . . .” She rocked the baby carrier with her foot a few times. “Word is you’ve been getting over to the new art teacher’s house.” She raised her eyebrow at him.
Gus.
Gus’s wife, Heidi, was good friends with Steph. He grunted. “For Dad.”
“And she came over here?”
“For Dad.”
“Um, no, she stayed, and Dad came to my house.”
Oh yeah.
“And what about the school?”
He froze. “What about it?” He loved his sister, but she couldn’t keep a secret to save her life.
“I hear you’ve met her after school a few times.”
“Twice.” He refused to look at the mirth in her eyes.
“And stayed late.”
“Not true.”
“Mark.”
“What?” His leg bounced. He stopped it.
“What’s going on?”
He studied the grain in the old cherrywood table. Finally, he lifted his gaze to meet his sister’s. “I’m working on something.”
“Is that what the kids call it these days?”
“Knock it off.”
Her expression softened. “Do you like her?”
“What is this, sixth grade?” He frowned. “She’s not even sure she’s going to stick around here much longer.”
“Okay, but do you like her?”
He shook his head, still running his hand along the table. “We’re friends. And she’s helping me with something, so that’s why we were at the school.”
“What is the thing?” she asked. The baby fussed, and she lifted him out of the carrier.
“Can’t tell you.”
“Why not?”
He smiled. “Because Christmas is coming, Steph.”
She smiled shrewdly back, and he knew he had her.
“You should take her to Leavenworth,” she said.
He laughed. “Why does everyone think Leavenworth is the place to take a girl at Christmas?”
She stared at him. “Because it’s picturesque, romantic, charming, and nestled in the mountains like the Alps themselves complete with all the trimmings of the most wonderful time of the year?”
He rubbed his face and sat back in the chair. “I’ve got an idea. You and Dad take each other to Leavenworth. Then everybody wins.”
She frowned. “What does that mean?”
He shook his head. “It means I have a better idea.” He hoped.
Her face brightened. “So, you are taking her somewhere.”
He dropped his head. Yes. He was taking her somewhere. And if his sister knew where, he would never hear the end of it.
Stephanie rose from the table and handed him the baby. “You do like her.” She kissed the top of Mark’s head, then headed upstairs.
He looked down at his nephew, sleeping soundly again. “A word of warning, kid. I love this town, but you can’t burp without your friend’s wife’s cousin’s grandpa knowing about it.”
On Thursday after school, Riley entered grades into her laptop and hung the sixth-graders’ interpretations of The Starry Night on the display board. She wanted to get home. Mark had finished framing and would be putting up drywall.
She held up the last picture in the stack and halted. It was her own drawing, the one she’d done the day after Mark had taken her up the dirt road to see the lights. She smiled, remembering the conversation they’d had, and the easy silence. Her smile faded recalling her students’ argument over Mark and Dalton. As she tacked the picture up on the board with the others, her phone rang, and she answered it without looking at the name on the screen.
“Riley? Honey?”
Her stomach tightened. “Mom?”
“I know you asked me not to call—”
Riley leaned against the edge of a table. “Mom, of course you can call. I just didn’t want you to try to talk me into coming back.”
“I know, but . . .”
Riley could hear the strain in her mom’s voice. She steadied herself. “Mom, I’m not coming back.”
“Riley, baby,” her mom said, “I’ll be home from this trip on the first. Christmas won’t be the same without you.”
Riley could’ve argued that her parents had had a lot of Christmases without her. But she was trying to work past that. “You know why I left. I’m not ready to do all that again.”
“You wouldn’t have to do anything.”
“We both know that’s not true. Dad would insist I go to every party, every opening, every gala, with everyone there wondering how I’ve survived after such a humiliating breakup, but nobody actually caring that I’m doing just fine.”
“It wouldn’t be like that. And besides”—her voice dropped to a murmur—“Dad has someone he’d like you to meet.”
Riley closed her eyes. “Mom, that’s how things went bad last time.”
“He’s not an actor. And he’s gorgeous.”
“Being an actor didn’t make Gavin a weak, cheating scumbag. Being Gavin made Gavin a weak, cheating scumbag.”
“Still angry, huh?”
“I wasn’t insulting him, I was merely describing him.”
“Well, I would describe this new guy as perfection. You could slice an apple on his jaw.”
“That sounds . . . sharp.”
“I’ll text you a picture.”
“Please don’t.”
“He’s an orthodontist. You have the straightest teeth.”
“Because of braces.”
“See? It’s fate.”
“Mom. Stop. I’m not meeting Dad’s friend.”
Silence filled the line between them.
