Coincidentally, I was wearing her pajama design this morning when a little girl ran into my life and her father stood by, visibly ready to share another insight into his life with me.
* * *
Returning to Spencer’s house,I immediately hear Spencer and Hadley when I walk through the door from the garage to the hall near the kitchen.
“I don’t eat that!” Hadley sounds frustrated.
“Well, you have to, otherwise no apple sauce.” He has an authoritarian tone.
“Grrr.” Hadley actually just growled at Spencer like an animal, and it causes me to smile to myself.
I pass Pickles who is sleeping on a bed of blankets that I don’t remember putting there. I lean down real quick to pat his head. Walking slowly into the kitchen, I see Hadley sitting at the kitchen counter and Spencer attempting to put a sandwich on her plate. All eyes turn to me.
“Hi,” I hesitantly greet them and wave my fingers in the air for a little greeting.
Spencer sighs, and for the first time ever, I don’t think I am the cause. He looks like he is exhausted.
“Hi.” Spencer rubs his temples. “I guess you are owed a proper introduction. April, this is Hadley. Hadley, you remember April from this morning.”
“Dog lady,” Hadley announces.
Spencer chuckles. “I think you mean Pickles’ owner?”
“Well, if Pickles likes me more, then maybe I can keep him.”
I lean over on the other end of the counter, a good distance from everyone. “Let me guess. You made a bed for him?”
She nods her head.
My eyes slide to Spencer. “I guess I have competition.” There is a moment’s pause. “So, what’s shaking?”
What’s shaking? Yikes, I’m clueless how to communicate.
“Hadley isn’t really a fan of food. She only eats apple sauce, donuts, and fries.”
“Solid food groups,” I comment.
He throws a kitchen towel to the side. “Yeah, I’m sure the pediatrician would agree.” There is a lack of assurance in his voice.
I crawl my fingers on the counter as I debate what to say or do. “Well, if you don’t mind, I’m going to get to work on my pasta.”
“Is that what I bought yesterday?” He indicates his head to the cardboard near the sink.
I walk straight to the box. “Yep. A pasta maker.” I begin to work on the box.
“What’s a pasta maker?” Hadley asks.
I focus on my task as I speak. “It helps me roll out the dough that I’m going to make.”
“Is it messy?” she continues her line of questioning.
“Can be. I need to use a lot of flour.”
“Can I help?”
My eyes immediately find Spencer who is avoiding my gaze. I look between them both, and I’m not sure no is really an option right now.
“Sure. But you might need to change. I would hate to ruin your ballet outfit.”
