She studies me for another long moment. I can see her weighing it, fighting against instincts that tell her not to trust anyone.
Finally, she nods. "Okay."
"Okay?"
"Okay, I'll go talk to Murphy this afternoon. And maybe we'll check out the library." She pauses. "Thank you. For the job lead. And for... for caring enough to check on us."
"You're welcome," I manage.
Jackson tugs on my pants leg. "Will you show us where the bakery is? Rex really wants a muffin."
I look at Claire, asking permission without words. She hesitates, then nods.
"I can do that," I say. "But only if you promise to tell me your favorite dinosaur on the way."
"T-Rex!" Jackson announces immediately. "Because they're the biggest and strongest and have the most teeth!"
"That's a good choice. You know what my favorite is?"
"What?"
"Triceratops. Because sometimes being strong isn't about having the biggest teeth. Sometimes it's about standing your ground."
Jackson considers this seriously. "That's pretty cool too."
Claire is definitely fighting a smile now. "Come on, dinosaur experts. Let's get some breakfast before Rex stages a rebellion."
We walk toward my truck, Jackson chattering between us about various dinosaur facts. I open the back door and help him get buckled in while Claire slides into the passenger seat.
The drive to the bakery takes less than five minutes. Jackson fills the silence with a steady stream of dinosaur trivia, which ones could swim, which ones had the longest necks, which ones were herbivores versus carnivores. I find myself responding, asking questions, genuinely interested in what this four-year-old has to say.
When was the last time I had a conversation this easy? This uncomplicated?
I pull up in front of the bakery, Sarah's Sweet Shop, the hand-painted sign reads, and Jackson practically vibrates with excitement.
"Can we get two muffins?" he asks his mother. "One for me and one for Rex?"
"Rex doesn't eat, baby."
"But he wants to smell it!"
Claire laughs and the sound is so unexpected, so genuine, that I find myself smiling too.
"Fine. Two muffins. But you're eating both of them."
Inside, the bakery smells like sugar and butter and fresh-baked bread. Sarah Bennett stands behind the counter, gray hair pulled back in a bun, flour dusting her apron. She's been running this place for thirty years, and her muffins are legendary.
"Tom Harris!" She beams at me. "And who's this handsome young man?"
"This is Jackson," I say. "And his mom, Claire. They're new in town."
Sarah's expression shifts immediately to pure welcome. "Well, isn't that wonderful! We always love new faces. What can I get for you folks?"
Jackson presses his face against the display case. "Do you have chocolate?"
"Do I have chocolate," Sarah repeats, mock-offended. "Young man, I have the best chocolate muffins in three counties. And if you're very good, I might even have some chocolate milk to go with it."
Claire steps forward, pulling cash from her pocket. "Two muffins and a chocolate milk, please. And coffee, if you have it."
