“No offense,” I say. “But I think they have to be a little more selective when hiring for this position than you do when bringing on a shop assistant.”
“Maybe I should be more stringent,” Daisy says with a laugh.
She doesn’t mean it. Her workers are like family to her. And they definitely carry their weight.
“You’re a shoo-in,” McKenna says, turning her attention back to me.
“I’m not, but I appreciate your vote of confidence.”
We’re interrupted by a squeal and a giggle. Theo, a rambunctious four-year-old, barrels into the room, nearly clipping a display of love stories before beelining for the coffee table.
“Muffins!” he cries out, eyeing the plates on the coffee table like a miner who struck gold.
“Where’s your mommy, Theo?” Daisy asks the pint-sized interloper.
The bookshop echoes with Rainey’s sharp cry. “Theo Jamison! What are you up to?” Her thudding steps hit the hardwood in quick succession.
But she’s too late. Theo grabs the muffin from Daisy’s plate and shoves the whole thing into his mouth. Crumbs fly. Chunks land at his feet. His head pops up—eyes wide, as if we just materialized. He’s a chipmunk, mid-chew, cheeks puffed full—torn between darting into his hole or grabbing up more goodies.
“Yummy,” he manages around the bite, his word garbled, bits of muffin spewing. He smiles, dragging a messy hand across his face, smearing purple-blue streaks of blueberry.
His eyes dart—from me, to Mac, then Daisy.
He’s an adorable disaster.
“Theo!” Rainey bursts into the room, skidding to a stop. “Oh, Daisy. I’m so sorry.” She drops to her knees, scooping up muffin chunks like she’s racing a timer.
I’m stifling a laugh. My ears practically ring with the urge to giggle. Daisy’s lips are pinched. McKenna shakes softly, avoiding my gaze.
“It’s fine,” Daisy tells Rainey, trying—and failing—to keep a straight face.
“Theo,” Rainey says, “You can’t just grab food. You have to say please.”
“Pweeeese,” he puffs out, mouth still overfilled. Crumbs go flying everywhere.
Rainey smiles, shaking her head softly and extending her hand to her son. “Come on, buddy. Let’s get you cleaned up.”
“Leave the mess,” Daisy says. “I’ll get it.”
“Are you sure?” Rainey asks.
Daisy nods and smiles, ruffling Theo’s hair as she stands.
Rainey takes Theo into the bathroom to clean up.
“I think that’s our sign to close the mock interview,” I say, bending over to scoop up some of the crumbs Theo left in his wake.
“You don’t need more practice,” McKenna tells me.
She stoops down and starts cleaning up with me. Daisy grabs some wet towels and we finish cleaning up together.
I thank McKenna and Daisy, and then leave Moss & Maple, stopping at the grocery and pulling Mom’s list up on my cell. On my way down the bread aisle, I bump into Mrs. Spence, a woman I’ve known my whole life.
“How are Anabelle and Rogan?” I ask, making the kind of small talk that’s second-nature. “I hear Rogan had a great football season last fall.”
“Anabelle’s doing great,” Mrs. Spence tells me. “We missher, but she’s making us proud at UT. Rogan’s got his eyes set on some D1 schools. We’ll see. He’s only a sophomore.”
She smiles and asks, “How about you, Carli? I heard McKenna’s back.”
