She pouts like I knew she would.
And I return my gaze to the windows of Hank’s house. I hope he’s okay. I was taken back by the woman who opened the door. She is definitely not Marie. Much younger. And those damn eyes, those curves.
Fuck.
I hope she’s good to Hank. He was dealt a shitty hand with that disease.
“. . . Daddy?”
“Hey, sorry, what’s up?”
“Who was the old man in my snuggle blanket?”
Shit, I just grabbed the first one I saw. I didn’t even realize it was hers.
“Hank from next door, he gets confused sometimes. Thought it was summer and was wanting a swim. I’ll get your blankie back tomorrow.”
“Why is he confused?”
“His mind can’t stay focused, and he forgets.”
How else do you explain dementia to a five-year-old? ’Cause I have no idea.
“Oh, okay.”
She pops off the step and wanders around the yard, collecting leaves and twigs for who knows what. I pull out my phone and check business emails and the accounts, to make sure outstanding invoices have been paid. Nothing worse than havingto tell the guys payday will be late because a customer bailed or paid late.
The accounts are looking a little sad, and after a little digging I find three invoices that are outstanding.Typical.
I send reminder emails and pluck up the beer I brought out here after dealing with Hank. It’s still cold, thanks to the current Vermont weather. Just another thing me and Maise will have to get used to.
“Hello?” a feminine voice calls from the front of the house. It’s barely audible from the back steps, and I wait a beat. Maybe it was next door?
“Anyone home?”
Nope, that is definitely my coming from my porch.
I push up and walk through the house, opening the front door.
Dark eyes look up at me. Her fine features are framed by dark wavy hair. Her pert little nose has already started to redden and her pretty pink lips are currently pursed. A hand juts toward me, Maisey’s blanket folded and resting in her palm.
“I washed it, just in case you’re wondering.”
“I wasn’t.”
I don’t know what it is about this woman, but my usual fully functional language skill set is nowhere to be found. Apparently, it ran off with my manners. I stare at her, unable to pull my gaze from her face.
She shifts on her feet with a huffy laugh.
“Right, so much for friendly small towns. I see that was just a nineties thing.” She turns on her heel and stalks from my porch, crunching her way through the snow back to Hank’s house.
Her front door slams.
Creature of habit, I see.
I close my door and walk back through the house, tossing the blanket onto the sofa as I go past. Maise comes flying into thehouse a second later, claiming to have found a pet bird that looks like it’s half frozen. Great, now we’ve got to try and resuscitate the damn thing.
Fuck my luck.
