“Chicken. Blackie. Truck.” She wrote them on the board. “Fuck.” She didn’t write that one down, thank god. “You could come to the football game and sit with me.”
Before I could respond, the side door opened and Noah entered, phone pressed to his ear and yet another crate tucked under his arm. He nodded to us, set down the crate, and stalked up the stairs.
“—and food trucks and frozen lemonade. That’s my favorite. Frozen lemonade. I could have frozen lemonade every day for all of time ever.”
“That would be a lot of frozen lemonade.”
“You could get one too. I have money in my room.”
I eyed her. “Big spender, huh?”
“Noah gives me money when I help him at the markets,” she said. “I have a lot of dollars.”
“It sounds like you worked hard for it.”
She nodded and capped the marker. “Do you have any friends? Do you play with them at your house?”
“I do have friends,” I said. “But they live in another state.”
“Are you lonely without them?”
“Sometimes,” I admitted.
“Then you should come to the game,” she said. “You won’t be lonely.”
Never let it be said that Gennie wasn’t determined. That girl did not give up. I grinned at her. “I will think about it. Now, why don’t you help me gather all these books.”
We filled my tote with the books I’d borrowed from the town library and loaded the markers and sticky notes back into the lidded container.
Noah returned to the kitchen wearing a fresh shirt, phone clutched in his hand. “Hey.” After a beat, he turned his attention to his niece. “Gennie, what’s the egg situation?”
“Dammit,” she muttered.
“You can walk me out and then check the coops,” I said.
Resigned, she shuffled toward the door. “You’ll try to come to the game, right?”
Noah glanced at me but then started unpacking the crate he’d left on the countertop. A carton of cherry tomatoes, paper-wrapped herbs, several empty mason jars.
“I’ll think about it.” I swung my bag over my shoulder and took hold of the book tote.
I followed her outside, unsurprised when I heard her mumbling about the wicked hens. The surprise was Noah lumbering down the steps and meeting me beside the henhouse. We hadn’t talked much since last week. For reasons I still didn’t understand, that seemed intentional on his part.
“How’s she doing?” he asked.
“She’s very capable,” I said.
He scowled at his phone before sliding it into his pocket. “That’s good, I guess. Yesterday, the psychologist recommended having her tested for ADHD.”
“Mention it to the school when you meet with them. Tell them she’s being evaluated. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you anything about disability law as it pertains to educational settings. I’m sure you’re aware that documentation from her psychologist could be very beneficial in this matter.”
He turned to face me as Gennie dashed back into the house with the eggs. “Thank you. If you hadn’t shown up and yelled at me about our trucks, I don’t know what I would’ve done.”
“You would’ve figured it out.”
“I’m not sure about that.” He seemed to debate something internally before saying, “It’s good to have you back.”
“Is it?” I intended the question to sound teasing though I wasn’t sure it landed that way. “There have been a couple of moments where I’ve wondered if we’re still friends.”
