“Suit yourself,” Teddy said, and scooped without comment, slamming the lever on the industrial freezer with enough force to rattle the metal frame. His wrists bore deep red creases where the plastic gloves pinched his skin.
“And tatko needs the espresso one,” Brady added. “Please, sir.”
Another smile tipped my lips. Such good manners. I was damn proud of the boy.
“Of course!” Teddy smiled.
Done with his part, Brady went to a table and began to pull out his coloring. I promised to draw with him, but I hadn’t held a crayon in…years.
“Any news on the new building, Mr. Mladenov?” Teddy asked, voice lowered even though we were the only customers inside.
I pursed my lips and shook my head. “The city is stalling on the project.”
Not bothered in the slightest, Teddy hummed to himself. “No matter what happens, we’ll deal with it.”
“We will.” But Teddy was counting on me. Everyone was counting on me.
I tapped my card. The reader beeped, struggled to process, then finally spat out a limp receipt.
“Here ya go, champ!” Teddy called out.
Brady took his cone, cradling it in both hands. He licked at the base methodically, rotating the scoop to forestall any drips. His tongue left a snail-trail through the dense cream.
I took my own, thanking the owner.
“I’ll be in the back if you need me,” Teddy called out.
As I sat on the yellow, wooden chair, I dug my phone from my inside pocket and flicked through my inbox. Two new messages: one from the project manager, the other from Poppy. It was a new and not unwelcome feeling, seeing Poppy’s name on my screen. I saved that for last and opened the business one first. The manager’s was predictably terse—a reminder about tomorrow’s call, and a link to yet another spreadsheet. In other words, no progress. The city was stalling. If they built the new shopping complex across the highway, a rival mob would move on that turf, and we’d all suffer.
I wasn’t letting that happen.
Grinding an espresso bean between my molars, I opened the other. Poppy’s message was a one-line check-in, the kind that left me hollow and grateful at the same time. I might just let her keep her phone, if only we started texting more.
The idea churned inside me.
She could go back to posting books on her social media.
She’d like that.
“It’s settled,” I muttered.
Brady squinted up at me. “What is?”
I blinked. “Your mom needs more books.”
A dramatic eyeroll accompanied by a huge sigh escaped my son. “No, tatko! She has too many already. They’re everywhere.”
A shadow moved across the storefront, and I looked up to see a trio of teenagers—two girls and a boy—loitering in front of the check-cashing place. They wore identical black hoodies and huddled close, whispering in urgent bursts. One of the girls flicked a lighter open and shut, open and shut, the flame catching then vanishing in the building’s shadows.
I watched them for a moment, then turned back to Brady. He’d gotten ice cream on his cheek, a sticky crescent just below the eye. I reached out, but he ducked away before I could wipe it off.
“I have something for you.” I dug once more in my pocket and produced the strand of braided red thread. A jasper bead sat snug in the center, the strands woven through and around it.
“Kiril has one of those!” Brady dropped his crayons and held out his wrist. “He said Katerina gave it to them when they started dating, and he’s never taken it off.”
Tying it on, I smiled. “And now you have one too.”
Brady spun the bracelet around his wrist. “Thank you for protecting me against the evil eye, but, tatko?”
