“Okay, Bella,” she explains to her daughter. “You’re going to play with Rigsby for about an hour. I’ll be right back to pick you up. Okay?”
“Bye, Mom.” Bella waves without looking up from her tablet. Slouching further into the booth, I chuckle to myself about how easy this is going to be. The kids haven’t diverted their attention from that tablet.
Something feels odd though.
It’s almost like Kaci left a subtle trail of that delicious scent, because I could swear it lingers even though she’s long gone. I look behind me, half expecting her to be standing there, but she’s gone.
That’s crazy.
Scratching the back of my head, I look around but still don’t see her.
I do, however, spot the waitress bringing the check, which is perfect timing. I pay her directly, and since we’re finished eating, we bundle up, and meander to the door. “Alright, guys.” I hold the door open as they pass and step onto the downtown sidewalk. “We only have about an hour to kill before we have to meet back up with Kaci. What do you want to do?”
“How about the park?” Rigsby jumps up and down in excitement, as if I can’t see him.
“Uh, it’s a little cold to stand outside.” I look down Main Street, scanning the little shops. “Let’s see…we just ate. We don’t have enough time to catch a movie. Hmm, how about the children’s art museum?”
Rigsby eyes hold steady as if he’s fighting an eye roll. Bella’s lips curl up, and she hugs the bear she’s holding tighter to her chest. “Yeah, they have an open studio during the week. My mom sometimes takes me there on days we don’t have school.”
“That sounds perfect for us.” I extend my hand, ushering them down the sidewalk. There is no point to driving a couple of blocks when the downtown parking is limited. As usual, Mapleton is bustling with people coming in and out of the shops. We weave through the shoppers while I try to keep them bothby my side. “So, Bella,” I begin, glancing at her quickly before focusing back on where I’m walking. “Your mom likes art?”
“Yeah, she’s a creative type.” Bella pushes her hands into her puffer coat pockets. “She’s the opposite of my dad.”
“Oh, yeah?” My ears perk at the mention of Kaci’s ex, and I’m a little curious. “What does your dad like?”
“According to my mom, he only likes himself.” Pointing forward, she exclaims, “Oh, there’s the museum.” It’s like the kids have some telepathic connection, because without saying a word, they race the rest of the block and barge through the front door without waiting for me.
“Guys!” I yell, but it’s no use. The door has already closed behind them. I give up and jog to catch them.
I’ve never been to this children’s museum before. As soon as I open the door, I’m met with so much color, it looks like a rainbow exploded on the walls. The desk attendant looks up with a cheery smile on her face. “Good morning, kids. No school today?”
“We missed the field trip bus,” Rigsby says proudly. That feels like days ago, even though it’s only been a few hours. It’s been a long day already.
I step forward, while pulling out my wallet. “We thought there was some art studio thing they could do.”
“Yeah.” She nods with a happy-to-help -you smile on her face. “It’s for our preschool audience, but since your kids are younger, I can sneak them in.” She moves to her computer and clicks the mouse a few times. “So, just your two kids then?”
“Well, two, but they aren’t mine.” I slide out my debit card and pass it to her, shrugging one shoulder. “I’m babysitting.”
“That works too.” She takes my card and slides it through her machine. “It’s twelve dollars.” After the card clears, she hands it back and points down the hall to the left. “Bathrooms, lockers, and the gift shop are this way.” She waves her hand down theopposite hall and says, “The art studio is all the way down this hall. You’ll find aprons and everything you need inside the door.”
“Thank you.” I place a hand on each kid’s shoulder and steer them away from the desk. They ignore me. Instead, break into a foot race. Once again, I call after them, “Guys, this is a museum. No running.”
Apparently, they are situationally deaf, because they don’t slow. Once again, I find myself speed-walking after them. Inside the studio, they aren’t shy about making themselves at home, moving around the tables, and collecting brushes and paints for themselves.
The studio attendant shows them how to properly set up their pallet. I meander over to their workstation, prop a shoulder against the wall, and observe as the attendant proceeds to demonstrate brush strokes. My eyelids grow heavy. This has been one of the longest days I’ve had in a long time. “What are you painting?” I ask through a yawn.
Bella swirls her brush over her canvas while pinning her lips into a secret smile. “It’s a surprise.”
“Oh, I can’t wait.” I shift my gaze to Rigsby. “What about you, bud? Are you painting your uncle being the most amazing goalie ever?”
“Ha.” He throws his head back and sputters out an exaggerated laugh. My phone vibrates from inside my coat pocket. Reaching inside, I grab it and read the text message.
Kaci: How is everything going?
Snickering, I check the time. It’s been fifteen minutes, and she’s already checking on me. There’s no way I cannot have fun with this.
Jackson: I already lost them both.
