Then he glanced at his car. A lumpy shape sat squarely on his hood.
“Whatisthat?” he murmured.
He walked closer and the details came into view.
A snowman. A carefully crafted, slightly crooked snowman—nose made of a Cheeto, eyes small black stones.
One of the kids grinned. “We made that for you.”
He stared at the absurd creation.
All annoyance evaporated.
“Thanks . . .” he murmured, and he meant the word.
Amayah’s smile warmed something deep in his chest.
This day had started badly. But memories of that had faded.
And he was so thankful for that.
CHAPTER 23
“What you got in the bags?”Jonah craned his neck to peer around Amayah’s arm.
She pulled her shopping bags closer before they could peek inside.
Clara chimed in too. “Is it food?”
Amayah laughed softly. “Now, now. We don’t ask what’s in someone else’s bag. That’s not polite.”
A few of them ducked their heads, chastened but still hopeful.
“It’s not like you have kids to shop for or anything,” Benji muttered.
Amayah blinked, trying not to show how much the words stung. “No, I don’t.”
“What’s for dinner?” Clara asked, voice reverent.
“Beef stew,” Amayah said. “The kind that fixes just about any problem. I put it in the crockpot this morning before I left.”
She’d added a little—okay, a lot—extra, just in case.
The kids cheered as if she’d announced a miracle.
“Can we eat with you again?” Eli uttered the words as if he were trying to sound casual but failed completely.
Amayah grinned at them. “You don’t even need to ask.”
Amayah couldn’t deny that dinner became a small-scale natural disaster.
The Crump kids descended on the stew as if it might vanish mid-bite. One elbowed another. A spoon clattered to the floor. Someone laughed so hard milk practically came out of their nose.
The kids talked over each other, stole rolls from neighboring plates, and argued about whose turn it was to use the only napkin that hadn’t been crumpled already and thrown on the table.
And yet . . .
They passed food to the smallest among them first.
