Holding back my amusement, I nod in agreement. That was Heather's idea, too. But I don't want to encourage more speculation, so I keep my mouth shut.
“What about a pie-eating contest?” Melody's assistant, Henry, interjects from across the table, pushing up his large black-framed glasses.
I stare at him. “What about it?”
Henry swallows hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, but he presses on. “Would you be willing to participate in one? Get the team involved?”
“Oh yeah! Great idea, Henry. I heard there's an amazing bakery in town that makes incredible pies.” Melody scans her notes, then adds, “Seaside Sweets. Julie, I think. We could get a selection of her best.”
Pressing my lips together, I consider the option. It doesn't sound bad at all. I never could say no to a good cherry or apple pie.
“Sure, I'll do that one.” I smile as their faces brighten. “Just make sure they're from that bakery or another local business we can support, and either cherry, blueberry, or apple.”
“You got it, boss.” Melody scribbles a few notes in her notebook. “Okay, last thing on my list: corporate sponsorships. Henry and I are both relatively new to town, so making the necessary business connections isn't as easy as we'd hoped. We were wondering if you could help us with that.”
“Have you forgotten that I've been gone for fourteen years? A lot has changed while I was playing ball.”
“I understand that.” Melody takes a deliberate breath. “But everyone knows who you are. They'd roll out the red carpet for you way faster than they would for us.”
She's not wrong. The organization brought both Melody and Henry in from a marketing firm in Chicago just a month or so before I arrived. These two are like fish out of water, doing their best to adapt. And honestly? They've done an impressive job considering what they're working with.
“Let me think about it and see what connections I still have.”
“That's all I'm asking. Thanks.” Melody's relief is visible.
I glance at my watch and stand. “Sorry, my time's up. I need to get Violet from school.”
“No worries, boss. We're done here.” She holds up her notebook. “We'll get started on this right away.”
With a nod, I'm out the door, heading for the preschool. Violet has really settled in, making friends, enjoying her time there. It's been a huge relief to see the genuine smiles on her face when I pick her up every day. And of course, the first thing she always wants to do is see Cookie.
I stroll through the school's entrance and breathe in the cooler air. While November temperatures in Florida are much lower than August, the humidity is still brutal.
Class art lines the walls in patchwork layouts that resemble old-fashioned quilts. I scan the pictures to find Violet's and my heart clenches when I reach it. She's drawn her ideal home. Our house is easy to spot in the background with its decorative architecture, as is my car. But what catches me off guard is the rendition of Cookie sitting in front of three figures holding hands: Heather, Violet, and me.
She’s drawn similar pictures and they decorate a wall in her bedroom. But to see one here emphasizes that Violet has truly latched onto this as her vision of family. It makes sense after losing her mother and having her entire world turned upside down.
I really like Heather. Hell, more than like. And Cookie's grown on me, too. I definitely want to explore those kisses—andquite a bit more—with my neighbor. But for some reason, this picture takes everything to a whole new level. This doesn’t feel casual anymore. It’s real.
I swallow hard, still staring at the drawing. I'm not sure how I feel about that, but I also realize something important: I'm not running this time. In previous years, this would've had me bolting for the exit. I'd always made it a priority to keep things light, never get too involved with anyone. Date a few models? Sure. But anything serious was off the table.
It was always superficial. And this picture is anything but.
“Mr. Maddox!” The preschool director's voice snaps me from my thoughts, and I turn with a smile.
I gesture at the wall. “This is impressive. You have a bunch of artists here.”
Mrs. Archer practically glows with pride, puffing up like a pleased hen. “We certainly do! And Violet's is right there in the middle. She did a lovely job.”
“She did,” I agree. “I hope that comes home with her eventually. I'd love to frame it.”
“We'll make sure that happens.” She points over her shoulder. “Violet's class is nearly done. They had a surprise visitor today and the kids are getting in as many pets as they possibly can.”
I frown, glancing down the hallway. “Pets?”
“Oh, yes! The librarian, Heather Winslow…” Mrs. Archer leans in with a knowing grin. Oh boy. Here we go. “I'm sure you know who I'm talking about. Anyway, she volunteered to deliver a stack of books to the class, along with Cookie, of course. All the kids want to pet the puppy, so they're taking their time.”
This has Violet's fingerprints all over it. And the fact that Heather would actually take time out of her day to do this for my niece? It does something warm to my heart.
