It’s not marble.
Maisey’s hands flail in the air. She’s telling Celeste something very animatedly.
The pan comes up, a tea towel slides underneath it as she sets it back down. They stand back as if admiring whatever is in that pan.
And then I see it . . .
Maisey, my only child and best little bud, holds her hand high. Our thing. The way we celebrate, well,everything.
Celeste slaps hers to it and they jump around celebrating who knows what.
Something like envy or annoyance snaps in my chest. I growl at the selfish sentiment. A girl needs friends apart from just her old man.Especiallysomeone who isn’t her old man.
With her mother nonexistent in our life, she could use someone who understands the things she will go through. Girl stuff.
I always thought I would find someone to share our life with before she got to that point. Guess there’s still time...
The washing up is done in a few minutes. And I busy myself with business, lining up next month’s jobs for the crew and replying to the never-ending emails that insist on pouring in, despite the holidays coming up.
It takes a solid hour to get through it all. And when I look up from the laptop, the sky is dark outside.
Dammit.
I push from the chair, stretching. The house is far too quiet. Maisey still isn’t home. Walking to the front door, I put on my coat and walk outside. I pull the door closed behind me and hear raucous laughter a second later.
The Blacks’ house is lit up, the happy sounds of Maise and her new friend spilling from somewhere behind the huge old home. I take the side gate and make my way down to the backyard. Flood lights hanging from the eaves light up the glittering winter snow that’s still coating every inch of Hank’s yard.
Hank himself is bundled up and sitting on a lawn chair among the snow as Maisey runs around, scooping up snow as she goes, rolling it into a ball. She ducks behind one of the few trees. I cross the snow to stand beside Hank.
“Evening,” I offer.
He looks up from his book, Mark Twain something or other.
“Oh, hi there. Have a seat.”
I chuckle, noticing there isn’t another seat besides the one he’s sitting in. When his stare doesn’t leave my face, I nod toward the back of the house. “I’ll just go grab one.”
I pop into the sunroom and take a chair from by the back door. He must store them away in case of blizzards and such.
I plop the chair by him and drop into it.
It’s cold out here, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he scans the yard without another word.
“Who are you looking for?” I ask.
The smile that lights up his face warms my chest. “Tisha, she’s hiding from me.”
Tisha?
I clear my throat. I know his condition is pretty bad, but I thought his immediate family would, you know, stick?
“You know where she’d run off to?” I prompt.
“She’s good at this game. But I’ll get her soon enough.”
Utterly perplexed, I can’t peel my gaze from his face.
Something hard and wet smacks into the side of my head. A gasp follows with a curse.
