“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “You could give them frowns if you want.”
“Okay,” she said, smiling widely.
“Why don’t I pour the batter in the pan, and you do the decorating?” he asked.
“Okay,” she agreed, clambering back up onto the stool. “That’s a good idea.”
Dalton smiled as he put a pat of butter in the pan and warmed it up. It was kind of nice hanging out with such a serious little kid. She wasn’t yelling or knocking things over or anything. She just wanted to see what he was doing and maybe help.
He’d never really wanted kids. His own childhood had cured him of any fantasies about that. But this was actually pretty nice.
“I’m going to put some batter in now,” he told her. “Once I’m done, you can put blueberries on them. But you have to bereallycareful not to touch the edge of the pan.”
“It’s super hot,” Dove said, nodding.
“Exactly,” he told her.
He poured a careful circle of batter and then two more.
Dove leaned in and very carefully deposited a berry onto one of the circles.
“Nice,” he told her.
Her first face had crooked eyes, but by the time she did the third one, she had the hang of it.
“Can we have some music?” she asked while they waited for the pancakes to be ready to flip.
“Sure,” he told her.
She hopped off her stool, then ran to the other counter and turned on an old-fashioned looking radio.
“Penny Lane” was playing and Dalton felt his heart lighten a little more as he hummed along to the old Beatles tune.
“My grandpa likes this one too,” Dove said, watching him flip the pancakes.
“Oh yeah?” Dalton asked. “I could tell he was a cool guy.”
That made Dove laugh really hard for some reason, and Dalton found himself smiling along with her.
Half an hour later,there were more footsteps on the stairs.
“They’re coming,” Dove said excitedly.
“Let’s get all this stuff on the table,” Dalton told her. “Can you grab the fruit?”
He was pretty pleased with how everything had come out. He’d skipped the eggs, since he had no idea how soon anyone would be up. But the pancakes were keeping warm in the oven, and he’d fried up somesausages while Dove cut up some apples and strawberries for a fruit salad along with the last of the blueberries.
“Oh wow,” Mr. Bennett, who Dalton remembered wanted to be called Michael, said on his way down. “What a surprise.”
There was a smile under Michael’s white beard and Dalton was relieved that the older man wasn’t offended that a guest had raided his pantry.
“We made it, Grandpa,” Dove yelled, launching herself at her grandfather.
Dalton froze in place to watch their interaction.
“Well done, young lady,” Michael replied, smiling warmly.
But there was a slight tension in his jaw that Dalton read as pain. Dalton figured that the little one hugging him so hard must have been aggravating his back injury.
