“Save some for your old man, hey?” I chuckle, pulling two bowls out of the cupboard and setting one by the tub just in time as she rolls the perfect ball over the edge and into it. It lands with a plop, and she giggles, cracking the smile that blooms over my face so damn wide.
My heart squeezes in my stupid chest.
It’s moments like these I’m glad her mother decided to leave and go alone.
I don’t think I could have handled it if she had taken Maise with her to Vegas. The other side of the fucking country. Still, the fear that one day she’ll change her mind and come to collect always lingers in the back of my mind. My gut churns, as if on cue, every time that particular thought springs back to life. Luckily, it doesn’t come up too often.
“More?” Maisey asks.
I snap my gaze to the overflowing bowls.
“Think that’ll be good.” I take the bowls to the sofa and flick the television on as she puts the ice cream away and runs for the living room. She’s in my lap a second later. “Daddy, you forgot the spoons again.” She giggles, turning on my lap. Her little hands wrap around my jaw as she whispers, “What would you do without me?” Her forehead presses to mine.
“No idea,” I say softly. And I damn well mean it.
God knows how I will make it through a day when she starts school next week. After two weeks of settling in, it’s time she started at her new school. My little contracting sidekick, she has more knowledge and skill than half the guys I work with. More sass, too. Someone’s got to keep us in line. The guys on-site adore her. The pink hard hat was a hit when she first started coming to work with me a year ago, when I could no longer afford babysitters or day care.
One of the downfalls of owning your own business. The highs are great, the lows can ruin you.
Maise’s gone and back with two spoons a beat later, curled up against my chest again. I flick it over to her favorite show about rescue dogs and try to eat my ice cream one-handed. She’s clean and sweet, all bathed and in her pajamas. And when the bowl slips in her lap twenty minutes later, I slide it to the side table and pry the spoon from her grip.
“Bedtime, my girl.”
I carry her upstairs, tucking her into the enormous canopy bed in the room she chose for herself. Knows her mind, my little girl. Of course she does.
I glance out the window to the drum. The load has been reduced to coals that now glow and flicker with the occasional lick of flame. Under the night sky out here in middle-of-nowhere Vermont, the sight is something to behold. I just hope I can make this work. That business picks up, and we get settled here for good.
Maise needs a good, stable home. Somewhere to grow and play. In the center of chaotic Boston wasn’t it. Grafton being a far cry from the city is one of its most attractive features.
I adjust the blankets around her shoulders and kiss her hair before turning out the light and closing the door almost all the way shut. I pad across the hall to my own room. The master.
This is the most impressive house I’ve ever lived in, and the room is incredible. More space than my old apartment. And this room is also home to an ornate king canopy bed. Matching nightstands. Luckily for this old bed, I’m too tired to disassemble it and haul it down the stairs to meet a fiery end.
I shower and pad downstairs to lock up and turn out the lights. The lights next door are burning still.
I frown, hesitating for a moment. But I know Marie is there, and she would call if she needed help.
Weary, I stretch, heading up stairs. By the time my head hits the pillow, my eyes are drifting shut.
“Daddy, I’ll be fine. Go to work, okay?” Her hand presses against my stubble. I’m squatting at the front doors to Grafton Elementary School. A crabbity old teacher, Miss Francis, stands behind Maise, waiting with a not-so-patient face.
“You sure? We can ditch this joint and play hooky...”
Her little brows drop quickly. “No, uh-uh. You can go play hooky, but I’m going inside to make friends.”
I chuckle and rise to my feet. “Good for you, kiddo.”
“Did you get the forms from the admin office, Mr. MacKelvie?” the old bat asks again.
“Yep.” I wave the forms that are still clutched in one hand at her as her mouth pinches and she ushers Maisey inside.
“Have a great day, my girl,” I utter, watching the large double doors swallow my flesh and blood who’s currently dragging my goddamn heart on a threadbare string behind her. The Christmas wreaths that hang on each door jostle as they thud shut, and I’m left outside in the cold.
Scrubbing a hand down my face, I loose a breath and trudge through the light, fresh snow to my truck. Once inside, I crank her over and toss the forms onto the bench seat. The sooner I get to site, the sooner I can get back to pick Maisey up.
I turn onto Pleasant Street and head back to Main. It takes all of four minutes to get to the Grafton Inn, where we are currently doing renovations in the dining area. A medium-size job, nothing major. But keeping the old heritage style the building has keeps us on our toes.
When the truck rolls up outside the inn, I take a second to appreciate the grandeur of the architecture, the stoic white columns, the wide porch, the multipaned windows, and the whitewashed stone exterior. It’s a stunning building, and one of the landmarks of this small town.
