I bent down and hugged her tightly anyway, laughing at her giggles because she was indeed not staying dry.
“We waited for you. Pops said the taco meat is gonna be dried out, but I don’t care.”
“You haven’t eaten yet?” I asked as I peeled the wet outer layer off and hung it on a hook. Layer number two, a thick Henley, was also damp.
“It’s daddy-daughter date night, silly,” she said. “And Pops too, but just for dinner because he doesn’t like The Little Mermaid.”
“It was fine the first four or five times,” my dad said from the kitchen.
Addie had seen it probably twenty times and knew all the songs by heart plus half the dialogue. I was just in it for her and would need to work to stay awake during our date. I’d also need to work not to let my mind go to Magnolia and all that business.
“Thanks for holding dinner,” I told my dad as Addie and I walked into the kitchen.
“We waited until you got home to start cooking,” my dad said. “At your daughter’s insistence.”
I knew that was true. Though my dad had spent his life being the one who was late to dinner due to chores that made for extra-long days, now he was devoted to his role as Addie’s main caretaker. He sometimes forgot what it was like out there hustling to get everything done, because he was caught up in here, practicing spelling words and addition problems, monitoring screen time, and keeping Addie busy in between it all.
As irritating as my dad could be about the barn, he was a godsend when it came to my daughter.
“I need three minutes to shower,” I said to my dad. “And Addie, how about you change into a dry shirt. Or better yet, pj’s and we can make it a pajama party.”
My daughter skipped off singing one of the Mermaid songs, and I headed for my bathroom.
Five minutes later, I returned to the kitchen.
“What can I do?” I asked my dad.
He turned around with a large bowl of taco meat, and I carried it to the table. Bowls of chopped onions, tomatoes, avocados, cheese, and salsa were already set out, and plates were waiting.
“Did you set the table for Pops?” I asked Addie as we all sat down.
“Mm-hmm, it’s my job.”
“She also helped with the salsa and the cheese,” my dad said as he passed me the tortillas.
“You’re a great dinner assistant,” I told my daughter. “How was school today?”
I listened to Addie’s tales of her school day, from one of the kids getting in trouble for purposely saying words wrong during read-aloud to a Halloween-themed scavenger hunt and the substitute bus driver who brought her home.
“Why were you so late today, Daddy?”
“My errands in town ran longer than I thought they would,” I told her.
“What errands did you do?” she asked as I refilled my plate.
“Well, I went to my bank appointment to finalize financing for the barn, stopped by the farm store, picked up a few items at the Country Market, then dropped off a check for the wedding planner.”
“Are you getting married?” she asked, her eyes wide as she held her taco up, ready for her next bite.
I laughed. “No. Who would I be getting married to?”
Addie shrugged as my dad shook his head. I was sure that was directed at me somehow, and then he confirmed it.
“If you’d drop this barn nonsense, you could’ve been here on time,” he said.
“That barn nonsense is going to make a difference to the bottom line,” I told him, keeping my voice as even as I could.
“What barn nonsense?” Addie asked.
