Page 19 of Single All the Way

Today had been particularly hectic as we’d stuffed in a few extra appointments to make up for closing at noon tomorrow, the day before Thanksgiving. I liked to give my staff extra time for the holidays when I could, even if someone was always on call in case I needed assistance with an emergency.

I stepped out into the brisk, post-rain air, locked up behind me, and headed across the parking lot and down the paved driveway. Like always, I scanned my land, noting that the animals were secure in the barn where I’d left them this morning and nothing was out of place.

Lights burned in all the windows on this side of the house, telling me the inside was likely alive with noise and commotion. As I drew closer and could see beyond it, I noted Grandma Berty’s car in the driveway and wondered if Emerson’s was tucked into the garage.

I might be a crazy man, but the extra people in my house had a kernel of anticipation unraveling inside me.

As an introvert, I’d always sought out quiet and calm. Being a single dad was the literal opposite of quiet and calm, but kids changed a guy. Rearranged his priorities. Walking in that door and getting hugs was a highlight of my day. Seeing Emerson in my home was a new treat. It affected me whether I wanted it to or not.

The instant I walked inside, the aroma of Berty’s spaghetti sauce hit me. Seconds later, my younger daughter ran into my legs with an enthusiastic hug, Xavier right on her tail. Three dogs and one of the cats were next.

After I hugged both of the kids, patted each animal, and kissed Grandma Berty on the top of her wispy white-haired head, I turned and noticed Emerson at the dining table with Skyler. She was still wearing her work clothes—black leggings, black boots to her knees, and a fine-knit plum sweater that reached her midthighs. Her hair was pulled back in a loose, wavy ponytail at the middle of her head, a few dark strands draping around her face. Yep, that sight was definitely a treat, but I wouldn’t let myself get caught up in it.

Even after a long day on her feet at her salon, she looked pretty and put together. When she glanced up at me and smiled, though, I could see shadows of fatigue and worry in her eyes.

“Welcome home,” she said.

“Thanks. How’d it go today?” I nodded toward her daughter.

“Can you tell Dr. Ben about your day?” she said to Skyler.

“We made turkeys with our names on the feathers.” She held up a paper plate with paper feathers glued to it along with googly eyes and a beak. “And me and Grandma Berty made hearts until the big kids came home.”

“Your grandma is too good to be true,” Emerson said.

“I heard that,” Berty called out from the stove, where she was fiddling with the spices in her red sauce.

“It’s true,” I said back.

Yesterday when Emerson had shown up with her kids after school, she and my grandmother had apparently come to an agreement about whether Berty would watch Skyler and Xavier every day. I’d expected a battle between them, but Emerson told me later, in private, that Berty had won her over easily—too easily, in Emerson’s opinion—by explaining how the kids were the number one purpose and love in her life. She thrived on staying with them every day and said they kept her active and young. If Emerson didn’t see fit to entrust her babies to Berty, she’d be depriving my grandmother of the thing that meant the most to her: lively, happy children.

I had to hand it to Berty because it had worked, though I knew it was also the truth.

“Daddy, it’s cookie day!” Ruby galloped around me. “The llamas get their cookies tonight.”

I bit back a curse. “Bad news, Ruby Tuesday,” I said. “I forgot to buy cookies.”

“Miss Emerson got them,” my daughter said, hopping from one foot to the other.

I met Emerson’s gaze, and she nodded.

“Olivia said you hadn’t been in for your usual half dozen yesterday, so I bought a full dozen, knowing some humans would want to participate.” She stood and went into the kitchen. “They’re in the cabinet by the tea. I was afraid I might eat them if I could see them.” She took the bakery box out and handed it to me.

“You’re a lifesaver,” I said quietly.

“I could say the same,” she replied with a ghost of a grin. “We’re not remotely close to even.”

Evelyn entered the kitchen and said, “Hi, Dad!” She gave me a drive-by hug. “Can Xavier help me with the chickens again?” She walked to the mudroom to get her boots.

Xavier had asked if he could go with her this morning. I’d gone out with them to make sure Gordon didn’t have a problem with someone new in the chicken house. The rooster had behaved himself—he was actually a pretty good rooster once you got past his awful crowing—and Xavier had taken to the chore like a true farm kid.

“You want to help Evelyn again?” I asked him.

“Yes!” He jumped up with his fist in the air.

“As long as you go in calmly and do what Evelyn says.”

“Yes, sir,” he said more sedately.

---