Page 85 of More Than a Helping Hand

“And you weren’t trying to hear, but you did.”

“Right. I wasn’t trying to eavesdrop.”

“And neither was I, but I heard something.” She grins.

Bribing children is a bad idea, but I’m not above buying another dozen donuts if that will help her remember what she heard.

“If it’s about someone getting hurt, you should tell someone. But if it’s private information, then you probably shouldn’t.” I’m trying to be adult about this, but curiosity is eating me alive.

“It was about you.”

I make sure the truck is in park so I don’t accidentally back into someone. “Then you should definitely tell me.”

She unbuckles and leans between the front seats. “Grandma and Mom were talking. They didn’t know I was in the hall. And Grandma asked Mom if she thought you were going to give her a ring.” Bailey opens the donut box.

“When we get home.” I shut the lid. “What did your mom say?”

“She said that y’all haven’t been dating long, but that she’d love a ring. And something about a yes. But I didn’t understand that part.”

“She said that?”

“Yep, so I think a ring would be a good gift. One girl in my class has a ring that’s bright when she’s happy and dark when she’s in a bad mood. If my teacher had that ring, it would always be dark.”

“A ring, huh? I like that idea.”

It’s clear that it hasn’t quite clicked with Bailey what a ring means, but I’m not going to tell her.

“That’s what she said, but I was surprised because Mom doesn’t even wear rings. She used to wear one, but when Derek left, she took it off.” Bailey climbs back into her seat. “But Aunt Paisley wears a ring. And Aunt Priscilla. And Grandma. And Aunt Bluebonnet.” Her eyes widen as the buckle clicks. This time when she meets my gaze, realization fills her eyes. “Do you want to give Mom a ring?”

“I do. Very much so.” I swallow and try to figure out how to word this next part. “And I don’t want you to keep secrets from your mom?—”

“DeeDee, secrets are different from surprises. And I want her to be very surprised.”

“Me too, Munchkin.” I shift into reverse. “We better get going.”

She’s quiet as I drive, which makes me wonder what thoughts are tumbling around in her head. But I don’t ask. Eventually, when she’s ready, she’ll talk to me. In that way, Bailey is a lot like her mom. They think about something for a bit before acting on it.

Bailey is halfway through her second donut when she sets it down and looks at me. “You love my mom.”

“I do.”

Her eyes glisten with expectation, and she asks, “When you give her a ring, will you love me too?”

In a heartbeat, I’m out of my chair and scooping her up. “I already love you, Munchkin. And I always will. Aunt Brooke loves you too.”

“She doesn’t wear a ring either.”

“And I hope it’s a long while before she does. I’m not ready for that yet.”

Bailey cradles my face, getting sticky glaze all over my beard. “I told Mom we should get rid of my cactus plants because when you move in, I don’t want you to accidentally sit on one.”

I set her down and squat beside her chair. “You and your mom were talking about me moving in?”

“Kind of. Yes. When you left the other night, something was wrong with Mom’s phone, and she was trying to make it work. I was sad that you left, and I asked Mom if you could move in so that you didn’t have to sleep alone at the ranch. And she said, ‘Sure.’ That’s when I told her to get rid of my cactus plants.”

“And what did she say?”

“She called her phone stupid. Then gave me a kiss goodnight and told me to go brush my teeth.” Bailey picks up that last piece of her donut. “Do I really have to do my homework now?”

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