Page 103 of Again, In Autumn

“No,” Grayson answers. “I’m going to watch TV.”

After a moment, I ask Adam, “Are you staying for breakfast?”

“Sure.” He forces a smile. “I’d love that.”

It’s quiet between us until Grayson’s bare feet flop back into the kitchen. He holds something between his fingers. “Hey, where did this rock come from?” he asks.

Adam bends over, hands on his knees. “I can’t catch a break, can I?”

I cast him a weary look and take the stone from Grayson’s hand. I turn the dark rock and look at the heart etched in the center. “Adam made this for me,” I explain. “Years ago.”

“Why?” he asks.

I take a beat. “Well, because –”

“Because she’s my friend,” Adam answers. He moves to stand behind me, brushing his arm against my back.

“But it’s a heart.” Grayson gags.

“I really, really, really love my friends.” Adam’s gaze is hot on the side of my face. We both know Grayson could never interpret the look or how closely to me he stands. The boy’s too busy running shoe-tying tutorials in his head at all times. I hear him randomly though the day: “Cross over, through the loop, tug, one bunny ear…”

It’s kind of thrilling to pull one over on a child. Adam could probably sweep me off my feet and plant a kiss on my mouth and my nephew would think he was cleaning off my face.

Grayson dances from one leg to the other. “That’s cool!” he cheers. “Can you teach me how to do that? And how to play the guitar? And the harmonica. And how to toss rocks on the lake?”

“Okay, whatever you want,” Adam laughs.

It vibrates my body.

I start making breakfast while Grayson shows Adam the show he’s watching and what he’s circled for Christmas from the Amazon catalogue.

“I want the green bike,” I listen as Grayson instructs. “Not this red one. The green one. I saw it on the website. They have it in green.”

Adam replies, “You do know I’m not Santa Claus, right?”

Francesca, David, Alice and Caroline eventually make their way out of their beds and into the kitchen, grabbing a bite of fruit or cup of coffee. The kids settle in front of the television, and Francesca wonders what we should do today. Since I stole the Garfield mug, Adam drinks another cup of coffee from the old I’m Not A Regular Mom, I’m A Cheer Mom mug that Heddy bought from my high school fundraiser.

He makes the loud, pucker, “Ah,” sound, and sets his cup on the counter. “Well, guys, I’ve got a proposition,” he announces.

Francesca looks at a blueberry that fell into her robe pocket. “I’m scared.”

“I’m intrigued,” David says.

“Fine, you can adopt Grayson,” she jokes. “We’d love to have you in the family.”

Adam taps his fingertips on the counter. “No, it’s nothing big. I got off the phone last night with an old buddy of mine from Nashville, Mackenzie – Mac – and he recently inherited a property not far from here. He did a bunch of renovations and turned it into an inn.”

“I love inns,” Kate announces, walking into the room, squeezing wet curls with a cotton t-shirt. I glance her way. True to form, she is unaffected by my presence, or Adam’s.

I’d love to be that self-assured.

Francesca bites, “The Day’s Inn is a motel. Adam’s not talking about the place where you hold business for your nighttime job.”

“Stop it Fran,” David demands. “She’s not a prostitute.”

“Anyway,” Adam continues, “He’s having a friends and family weekend to work out the kinks and see how things run before he opens in December. I was going to go for the night tonight and he called to say some rooms opened up. There’d be more than enough room for all of us. And Mac’s the nicest guy you’ll ever meet. He’ll be the best host.”

I roll my last French toast and set it on a platter. While I cover it with sugar, Francesca and David exchange agreements that it sounds like fun.

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