“Cool, cool. I’ll get out of your hair. I don’t want to interfere with all those sweet estrogen vibes.” He glanced toward the living room. “Any chance I could get a couple of those brownies, though? Been a minute since I had some home-baked Joyce deliciousness.”
Joyce nodded. “I’ll have a word with Willa. If I’d known you were here, I would have made you something.”
Jack’s eyebrows lifted in hopeful anticipation. “Chocolate chip banana bread?”
Beryl spoke up. “I’d be happy to make you some.”
“Yeah?” Jack considered the offer.
Harper could only imagine how good that would be. “It does sound yummy.”
Joyce put her hand on his arm. “I learned all my baking from Beryl. Hers is better than mine.”
“I don’t see how that’s possible,” Jack said. He winked at Beryl. “But I’m willing to give it a try.”
Chapter Thirty
Frankie heard Jack’s voice before she saw him. Wasn’t hard. There was a tone and timbre to his voice that carried. Not in a bad way. But it made sense that he’d sound like that. He was an actor. He’d probably trained in order to get his voice to have that kind of presence.
She looked toward the office, wondering if he was coming in. Willa seemed to be thinking the same thing.
Her question was answered a moment later when Jack, Harper, Joyce, and Beryl walked out from the hall. He nodded at Frankie. “Hey, man.”
“Hi, Jack. Are you joining the party?”
He tucked a bag under his arm so he could hold his hands up. “No way, man. I don’t want to bring down all this feminine energy. I was just hoping I could score some of those brownies.”
“You totally can,” Willa said. “I’ll wrap a couple up for you.”
“Sweet.” Jack put his hands together in prayer position and bowed. “Thank you. As I was telling Joycie, it’s been a while since I had her baking and I don’t mind saying it out loud but, man, I miss it.”
“Very understandable,” Willa said, laughing. She grabbed the plate off the coffee table and took it to the kitchen.
Jack stood at the back of the couch. Frankie was seated on the section perpendicular to where he was. He held up the bag he’d brought in with him. “I wanted to show you how the throw was coming along. Make sure you liked it and everything, you know.”
“You already started it?” She was surprised.
“Dude, what else have I got to do?” Laughing, he set the bag on the back of the couch and dug into it, pulling out his work.
Frankie sucked in a breath as she saw his knitting. It was beautiful and intricate and so much nicer than she’d expected. Not only that, he had nearly a foot of the throw completed already. She didn’t know if that was normal or super-fast, but it seemed super-fast. All she’d done so far today was prep the canvas for his dad’s portrait. “You can’t really be making that for me.”
He nodded. “You bet, man. You like it?” He held it up as best he could on the needles, trying to space it out on the long, connecting cord between them so she could see it.
She gaped. “It’s beautiful. I can’t believe you know how to do that.” It really was something that this big man’s man was capable of this kind of craft. “Harper, have you seen this?”
“No.” She came over with Joyce and Beryl to have a look. They all complimented the work, touching it and saying how soft the yarn was, how pretty the colors were, how intricate the knitting was, but most of all, what a wonderful job he was doing.
Joyce shook her head. “I’m not much of a knitter. My crocheting is better, but that’s top-notch work, love. Top-notch.”
“It’s brilliant,” Beryl agreed. “Maybe when you finish with this, you could make something for Ruthie.”
Furrows lined Jack’s forehead. “Who’s Ruthie?”
“Mitch’s granddaughter,” Beryl said.
“Kyle’s daughter,” Joyce explained further. “Kyle’s come home, and he’s brought his baby daughter with him. They’re living with Mitch now.”
“He didn’t say a word, man.” Jack shrugged. “Understandable, considering what we were jawing about. But I’d love to knit something for her.”
