7
Just how long could it take to paint one wall?
This was day five—thank God they'd taken the weekend off—and the boys were on their second day of painting on primer. They still had to finish that and then paint the white layer.
Noah had to admit he was a little impressed that, other than the first day when she'd helped them scrape, Jilly had instructed and encouraged but had let the boys do the work themselves. She was sticking to her guns with the punishment.
Hearing her voice was torture. Every day, it reminded him of the past and what he'd lost. So he'd made a plan to keep from hearing it today.
He was putting his plan into place when he heard her car in the drive. It was a mild afternoon, and he had the window open, making it much easier to hear the car doors slam. The boys were chattering—no, arguing—about a playground basketball game.
He had his computer programs cued up and waiting until they stopped clattering with the paint can when a small voice piped up from the window.
"Meow."
He took off his headphones and spun in the desk chair, though he didn't stand
"We brought you something." Jilly. Of course.
A warm, sugary, chocolatey smell floated to him on the breeze.
"That's not necessary." But, oh, it was difficult to say the words. He had a sweet tooth, and his mouth was already watering. He could practically taste the treat, whatever it was.
"Meow."
"Lindsey and I made this chocolate pie, and she wanted to share it with you."
He knew how stubborn Jilly was. He was going to end up with the dessert whether he wanted it or not.
He stood, heart tap-dancing as he strode to the window. "Is that true?" he asked the girl. "Did you make this for me?"
"Meow."
At this proximity, the scents of chocolate, flour, sugar, and cinnamon were much stronger. As if they'd both ended up with the pie-makings all over them.
He was terribly conscious of Jilly. So he ignored her and spoke only to Lindsey.
"Was it hard? Did it take a long time?"
"Meow meow." No. But that didn't take away the pleasure he felt that she'd been thinking about him.
"Thank you. I know I'll enjoy it." He reached out empty hands, prepared for Lindsey to thrust a pie plate into them.
But it was Jilly whose fingers brushed against his palms as she gently turned over a tin pie plate.
At least this time he'd been able to brace for the touch. He didn't let his face reveal how it affected him.
Some unspoken communication passed between woman and girl. He sensed it, but he wasn't a part of it.
"Bye," Lindsey whispered. He heard her footsteps fade away in the grass outside.
Somewhere nearby, the boys were still arguing. He could hear the dissonant cadence of their voices, but the words weren't clear.
"She likes you," Jilly murmured softly. "I let her skip the afternoon at school. We called it a mental health day. I thought we'd go shopping or go to the park but she wanted to come home and make that pie for you."
She sounded as puzzled as he felt. Why? He'd done nothing to encourage the girl's trust or kindness.
When he didn't answer, she spoke again. "Maybe it's the whole grizzly bear-just-woke-up-from-hibernation vibe." He judged from the way her voice was fading that she was backing away. "I don't know. It's kind of a siren song for me too. That needs to be refrigerated."
