“Should I go over and invite them first?” she asks.
“Sure, kiddo. But straight back home, you hear?”
“Fine.”
She’s out the door before I have a chance to kill the engine. I shake my head with a low chuckle. Guess there’s no getting out of seeing Celeste—not anymore, now that Maise has her sights on being her friend. Whether the woman wants a five-year-old bestie or not.
“Pass the potatoes, will you, Tisha?” Hank says.
Celeste picks up the large porcelain bowl and hands it to him with a smile plastered on her face. How she keeps it together when the man who raised her has long forgotten her, I’ll never know. She’s braver than she gives herself credit for. Braver than most people, who would simply stick Hank in a home and move on with their lives.
“Mr. Black, you’ve lived here for like a century, right? What was it like?” Maise asks.
For a second, I panic, thinking Celeste is going to intercept. Wishing my daughter wasn’t so damn curious.
“Well, I’m not that old. But I guess it was much the same. Although, if I remember rightly, the woman who lived here before you was nowhere as pretty as you.” He gives her a cheeky smile and then, “I wonder where she went...”
“Probably moved, Hank. How’s those potatoes?” Celeste asks.
So, they’re not telling him my grandmother died?
Why?
Not wanting to be the one to spill the beans, I help shift the subject to something lighter. “You’re good with your hands, Hank. Thanks for helping out today. Would have been in a real pickle without you.”
He nods, delight flooding his features. “Any time.”
“Yes, I was meaning to thank you for that.” Celeste meets my gaze, and I’m pretty sure we’re not talking about the backdrop frame anymore.
“Nah, all good.”
Hank’s focus ping-pongs between us.
I cut into my steak and load up some green vegetables onto it before shoveling it into my mouth, lest I say something stupid. Like,any excuse to be near you, or maybe...what book are you reading at the moment? You know, the one-handed read you?—
I swallow, clearing my throat, trying to usher that last thought out of my mind.
“I’m done,” Maise chirps, her cutlery dropping into the center of her plate.
She most certainly is not. A pile of vegetables sits to one side of her plate, her meat half eaten.
“Half those vegetables, young lady, and three more bites of your steak.”
“Argh, Daddy, no. I want to play with CC.” She jiggles in her seat.
Surprise fills Celeste’s eyes as she sets her cutlery down. Her plate is almost cleared.
“Maise,” I warn.
“No, it’s okay,” Celeste says softly. “I’ve been needing some girl time for ages.”
Maisey is practically pinging off her chair. Lips pursed, hands steepled in her pleading prayer pose.
Good Lord, this girl lays it on thick.
“Fine, two more bites of each. Not negotiable.”
She snatches up her fork, shoveling in all four bites at once, and chews with blown-out cheeks as she wiggles on her chair.
