Page 128 of Sweet Thing

Seven months later

Lars

In the parkinglot of St. Martin’s Episcopal Church, I scooped up Mabel like she was a puck on my blade and quickened my step.

“No!”

“Yes, sweetheart. I know you want to walk but we’re in a hurry.”

My daughter growled, a habit she’d picked up since the arrival of our new dog, a Yorkshire terrier called Biscuit. At close to fifteen months old, walking was Mabel’s favorite pastime, closely followed by “singing” the Duckman song, now with more verses—though we kept the X-rated ones for after Mabel’s bedtime—and saying “No” to everything.

Want your dinner? No!(Even though she did.)

Shall we go to the park?No!(But Adeline had no problem persuading her.)

Who’s your favorite Rebel? No!(Which Rebels goalie Noah Boden had insisted meant him.)

As well as “no,” her vocabulary had broadened to a host of new words such as “Dada,” “Adda,” and “Tea” for Tilly, who was her best friend, mostly because Tilly loved dressing Mabel up in her old clothes while fondly reminiscing about each item. For a four-and-a-half-year-old (and she insisted on that extra half), she had remarkable recall.

At the entrance to the church, the groom, Dash Carter, was huddled with Bell and a few guys I didn’t recognize. I wasn’t part of his wedding party, but like the rest of the Rebels, I’d been invited to the ceremony.

Dash nodded at me. “Hey man, you’re cutting it fine.”

“Yeah, had to run back home to get Adeline’s lucky pick.” I held up the plastic shard. With it, she’d written one of her best tunes—The Banana Peel Song, a huge hit with the under-five set at JiggleJams—and wanted to have it on hand today. Summer had asked her to sing “Something” by the Beatles during the ceremony.

Bell asked, “You seen Kershaw?”

“The cap’s not here yet?”

“I meant Kershaw Junior.”

I shook my head. Hatch was one of the ushers, which had surprised me because he and Carter didn’t seem all that close.

Mabel was getting antsy, and I needed to finish my errand. “Good luck today, Carter.”

“Thanks, man. Don’t think I’ll need it, but I appreciate it.”

Fair enough. Inside the church, I walked up the aisle lined with white roses, baby’s breath, and greenery until I found Elle and Theo.

Elle’s mouth dropped open on seeing Mabel. “There’s my girl!”

“Mommy …” Tilly tugged at her mom’s hand. “I’m your girl.”

“Oh, I know, honey. But Mabel’s cool, too. And look at her pretty dress!” True, Mabel looked even more adorable than usual today in a seafoam green number with a skirt made of what I called gauze, but what I’d been told by people in the know was tulle.

“Adeline’s looking for you,” Theo said. “I tried calming her down, but I guess that’s your job now.”

“On my way. Do you mind …?” But Elle was already relieving me of a very heavy Mabel and settling her in on the pew beside Tilly. “Sweetheart, can you be good for Auntie Ellie?”

I braced myself for the inevitable “no,” so I was surprised to earn a big grin. My kid loved the Kershaws, but then didn’t we all?

“Tea!” my daughter said, swiping at her friend’s curls.

“Hi, Mabel,” Tilly said with a world-weary indulgence as she fingered a silver-gilded rosette on Mabel’s chest.

Theo leaned over and booped my daughter’s nose. “Hey, Button.”

A giggling Mabel grasped his tie. “No!”

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