Page 25 of The Wish List
“I’ll let you know when I figure it out.” She handed him the drawing. “At the very least, one of the small wins is you being my slave for the next several weeks. You’re like my personal elf.”
That earned a belly laugh. “Your elf, huh?”
“Pretty much.”
As he took the drawing from her, his finger brushed hers, sending sparks trailing across her skin. “For the record, I don’t like to lose either.”
She swallowed but kept her features neutral. “Then let the games begin.”
CHAPTER NINE
TRINITYCLIMBEDTHEthree-rung stepladder at the end of the week, cursing the strand of twinkle lights that had just flickered out as she started to wrap them around a tree in her mom’s front yard.
“What’s the problem now?” she demanded of the Christmas lights.
“I don’t think pregnant people are supposed to be on ladders. That could be a problem.”
She glanced toward the house next door to see a girl walking up the path that led to the front porch.
“It’s not that high,” Trinity called. “Are you Michaela?”
The girl nodded. Michaela had light brown hair that fell to the middle of her back and a skinny build that reminded Trinity of herself at that age. She dropped her backpack on the ground and started across the lawn. “Do you want help?”
Trinity wasn’t great at accepting help but nodded. Things were different in Magnolia. Maybe it was just because her sisters were in town, but she didn’t feel so alone here. She’d made friends in Montana but lost touch with many of them as her relationship with Dave got more difficult. Lost touch with herself as well. And she’d been too anxious to try making friends when she’d moved to Colorado after leaving him.
“I swear they were all lit just a few seconds ago.”
As she got closer, Michaela pointed to the ladder’s bottom rung. “You stepped on one of them.”
Trinity groaned as she stared at the pieces of smashed bulb. “I didn’t even notice.” She cradled a hand around her belly. “I don’t have the best spatial awareness at the moment.”
“Is your mom going to be okay?” Michaela asked as she took the string of lights from Trinity.
“It’s nice of you to ask about her.” Trinity remembered now that Ash told her his daughter had been the one to discover May when she stopped by selling wrapping paper for a school fundraiser. “Walk with me to the garage,” she told the girl. “I’d like a chance to thank you for what you did to help my mom.”
“I didn’t do that much,” the girl countered, “other than yell for my dad. And Beth thanked me. She bought all my wrapping paper.”
Trinity smiled. Of course her sister had taken care of things. That was Beth’s way. “Well, I’d like to thank you as well. I’m Trinity.”
“Is Miss May going to be okay? You didn’t answer the question. When adults don’t answer questions, it’s because they think a kid isn’t going to like the answer, and they hope maybe we’ll forget asking it.”
“Wise beyond your years,” Trinity murmured. She’d left the garage door open and glanced around at the chaos inside, hoping a broom and dustpan would magically appear. “We hope our mom is going to make a full recovery. She’s got a lot of work to do, almost as much work as we have on this house to get her home. But everyone wants her back here.”
Was that actually true? It was hard for Trinity to know what Beth wanted. There was something her sister wasn’t telling the rest of them, or perhaps Beth felt uncomfortable with Trinity and her pregnancy.
She knew it had to be difficult since Beth had tried for so long to have a baby of her own. Trinity hadn’t even been certain she wanted to be a mom, although she was sure she loved her unborn child.
“Are you ready for Christmas?”
The girl brushed a limp strand of hair away from her face. “Christmas makes my grandma sad because she misses my mom. I miss her, too, but I don’t know how a holiday makes any difference.”
Trinity nodded. “I imagine you miss her every day.”
The girl bit down on her lip and looked away. “Is that a broom in the corner?” She pointed to the far side of the garage.
“Thanks,” Trinity murmured and moved forward. “Were you selling wrapping paper for a class?”
“My choir group. We have a field trip to Washington, DC, in the spring.”
