“Grandma would be proud,” Charlotte adds.
Corbin turns to the window, a faraway look in his eyes and, I imagine, a feeling of loss in his heart. I can tell because I feel the same way myself when I think about my grandmother. Some days, the missing is an ache that won’t go away.
“It sounds like she would be,” I say softly.
He nods, small and nearly imperceptible, but still he heard me, and I’m glad for that.
Soon, he turns back and meets my gaze, a resolute look in his eyes as he says, “Should we keep going?”
“Yes,” I say, and we move on, since that’s what you have to do, too, even when you miss someone.
We review our rough draft of the menu against the notes, and we settle on our favorites for potential inclusion at Afternoon Delight.
But Charlotte stops at one item, arching a very curious brow. “Dog cookies? Is this dog-shaped or for dogs?”
“Both. And they’ll all be made of peanut butter, since, for some unholy reason, dogs like peanut butter just like your dad does,” I say, turning Corbin’s words back on him.
“Are dogs allowed in the bakery though? Isn’t that against health rules?” She’s so inquisitive, and it’s positively fantastic.
“You’re right. It is against the health code. Unless it’s a service animal, and then it’s allowed to go anywhere customers are permitted. But we’ll have outdoor seating that’s dog-friendly, and also, some people just want to pick up a treat to take home to their pup.”
Charlotte turns her gaze to her father, clasping her hands together. “I would like to take a treat home to a dog.”
I tilt my head. “You have a dog?”
With a frown, she shakes her head. “No. My dad’s too busy.”
“We’rebothtoo busy. And I travel a lot,” Corbin corrects, and it sounds like it’s not the first time he’s explained his reasoning to Charlotte.
It’s solid reasoning, I have to admit. But where there’s a will, there’s wiggle room. “Maybe you could volunteer then? I volunteer with Little Friends, and you could apply on their website. Except you usually need to have an adult with you.” I tap my chin. “Corbin, do you qualify as an adult?”
The eye roll he gives me is magnificent, but the sigh he heaves is even more indignant. “I do, Mabel. I do.”
I brush one palm against the other. “Problem solved. Charlotte, you have a qualified adult at your service.”
She pats her dad’s shoulder. “I’ll sign us up tonight, Dad.”
“I have no doubt you’ll have us signed up sooner,” he says.
“Probably,” she says, then her expression turns thoughtful. “Grandma would have liked that. She volunteered a lot too.”
“She did,” Corbin says, then swallows roughly and looks away for a few seconds.
My heart squeezes.
Charlotte excuses herself for the restroom, and once she’s gone, I look at Corbin again, briefly wondering if I should ask more about his mother. But he seems to have reset. The focus on his face tells me he’s in business mode. Before I can get a word in, though, he arches a brow and leans closer. “Is that a new sport for you?”
“Is what?”
“Mocking me?”
“New? Please. I’ve been playing it for a while.”
“I think you took it to a new level today,” he counters.
I blow on my fingernails. “What can I say? I’m good at bakingandteasing you.”
“Yes, Mabel, you really are,” he says.
