“Seven.” I pick up my plate to help. “Thanks for the offer. Hopefully, I’ll find something tomorrow that I can get into quickly.”
Maverick takes the plate from my hand, ignoring my protests. “Still, it takes time to get into a new house. She could stay in Haddy’s old room.”
Hesitating, I know he’s right. “I appreciate the offer. I’d better head up now.”
Mav calls to his cousin, “Gigi, show him how Spanky uses his crate!”
Our eyes meet, and she seems a little flustered. I call Ladybird and go to the door leading inside.
“It’s okay. You can show me tomorrow.” Again, our smiles meet, and my lungs tighten.
I’m definitely tired, so I don’t waste time before heading upstairs. I want to be finished in the bathroom and in my own bed with the door closed before she appears.
3
GINA
“What do you think about this?” I turn the iPad so my cousin can see the pictures of a wedding at the Inn of the Seventh Ray in Topanga.
Haddy has baby Lucy on her shoulder as she bounces in place, and I walk over to trade my littlest cousin for the iPad.
“Look at those and tell me if you think that’s magical or what?”
We didn’t really discuss it after she and Gavin got engaged last spring, but after their “honeymoon” last month in Japan, I figured I’d take the reins on planning their wedding before the guys start back with hockey season.
Haddy’s voice goes high. “It looks like an Ewok village!”
Lucy scrubs her baby face against my neck, and my nose wrinkles. “Is that a good thing?” I hug her closer, doing my best to keep her soothed. “I thought we decided Ewoks were the worst.”
“They really should’ve gone with Wookies instead ofEwoks, but you know how it is.” She shakes her dark head. “The artist’s mind.”
“Actually, I have no idea.” Now I’m bouncing Lucy on my shoulder, patting her baby back. “I’m a scientist. I leave the art to Uncle Jack and Knox.”
“What art is Knox doing?”
“Kimmie didn’t tell you? He’s writing poetry just like his dad.”
“Knoxis writing poetry?” I’m pretty sure I see hearts floating around her eyes. “What are we going to do with these guys?”
Our uncle Jack, the oldest of the “Bradford Boys,” surprised everyone when we discovered he wrote short poems, observations and thoughts jotted in a small, leather-bound notebook he kept in his back pocket.
The only thing that surprised me more was hearing his quarterback youngest son Knox kept a similar notebook. Apparently he took it out at his high school girlfriend’s birthday party and read a short poem for her that stole everyones’ hearts.
His school-librarian mom, our aunt Allie, said it was as good as anything by William Carlos Williams or Wallace Stevens. It’s possible she’s biased, but I don’t know. Uncle Jack is pretty good…
“So the men in our families are artists, and the women are scientists?” My eyebrow arches.
“They’re also football players,” Haddy counters.
“And hockey players… and cowboys.”
“And your dad is a sheriff, which reminds me of someone else we know… Someone new.” Haddy pauses, her blue eyes circling playfully. “Who could it be?”
She taps her finger against her chin, but I’m not having it.
“Hayden Lucille Bradford.” My voice is firm. “Stop it right now. I am not getting involved with Owen Stone.”
“Why not?” she whines. “He’s gorgeous, and y’all have so much in common!”
