“No worries.” He grabbed the landline. “I’ll just say you’re tied up.”
Not wanting to let the girls down, she sighed and covered the receiver with her hand. “No, I’ll go with you.”
A few minutes later Jamie climbed into Clayton’s truck and they drove up to the main house, where the twins waited on the porch, backpacks slung over their shoulders. Dressed in identical uniforms with matching pigtails—Birdie’s handiwork, no doubt—they looked like mirror images, save for the slight tilt of Charlotte’s head and the impatient bounce of Emily’s foot.
The girls pulled open the truck’s back doors and Charlotte passed Jamie a piece of paper over the seat. “Here,” she said.
“What’s this?” Jamie asked as she examined the pencil drawing of two adults, two children, a dog, and a house. It looked pretty realistic for a child’s artwork.
Emily leaned over the front seat and pointed to the paper. “It’s us—you, Daddy, Charlotte, and me.” She giggled and pointed to the dog. “And that’s Duke.”
“Ah, I see.” Jamie handed the paper back. “That’s a really good drawing.”
Charlotte passed her the piece of paper again. “We made it for you, Miss Jamie.”
“You did?” Jamie widened her eyes as she turned to Clayton. He smiled, slow and sure. Warmth spread through her chest. “Thank you.”
The twins replied, “You’re welcome, Miss Jamie.”
Clayton looked away from the road and glanced at the drawing. “Where’s Poppy?”
“Who’s Poppy?” Emily asked.
“Miss Jamie’s poodle is named Poppy.”
“Poppy Rose,” Jamie clarified.
“You have a dog?” Charlotte inquired.
“I sure do.”
“Can we meet her?”
“Of course you can.”
“When?” Emily asked with excitement. “After school?”
“Sure, if it’s okay with your dad.”
Clayton drove along a long stretch of road with his wrist draped over the steering wheel. He turned on the radio, adjusting the station until it landed on “Anti-Hero” by Taylor Swift. She’d hardly pegged him as a Swiftie but he knew every word, just like the twins and her.
“I wish I wrote that song,” Jamie said. “You know, those songs that are just so good you wonder why you didn’t write them.”
“Uncle Hero is better.”
“What?”
“Uncle Hero instead of Anti-Hero.” He chuckled and she cringed at his first dad joke of the day. “But I know what you mean,” he continued, “Wish I wrote ‘I’ll Just Stay Here and Drink.’ It’s by Merle Haggard, that guy in my writing room.”
As they pulled up to the school a few kids around the twins’ age stood near the entrance. From the truck Charlotte and Emily waved, clearly recognizing them.
“What’s all this fuss about?” Clayton asked.
The girls unbuckled their seat belts and Emily leaned over the front seat. “We kind of told our friends Miss Jamie was dropping us off today.”
Clayton sighed. “Girls, you shouldn’t have done—”
“It’s okay,” Jamie said, waving to the crowd of children, growing larger by the second. “I’ll get out and say hi to them.”
