Chapter One
“Are you lonely, Uncle Ford?”
Ford stopped stirring the spaghetti and turned to look over his shoulder at Ashton, who was standing in the doorway from the hall.
“What kind of question is that, little buddy? Did you wash your hands?”
Ashton nodded as he came into the kitchen and climbed onto one of the stools at the island.
“It’s a real question. And a serious one.” He nodded solemnly to prove his point.
Ford turned back to the pan on the stove and waited; there was rarely any need to ask Ashton to elaborate.
“Mom worries about you.”
Ford shot a quizzical smile over his shoulder. “Your mom? Why?”
“Because she feels like she took Dad away from you.”
Ford shook his head. “Then I need to have a word with her and set her straight. She needs to know that instead of me being upset about it, I’m happy. Happy for all three of you. You three are your own family, and you need to be in your own place.”
His smile faded. “Does your mom like the apartment above the barn?”
“She does. She loves it. We all do. It’s an awesome place to live.”
Ashton looked around, taking in the size of the kitchen they were standing in. It was fitting for the size of the house — the ranch house had been built with a large family in mind.
Now, Ford lived here alone.
“You guys all used to live here, didn’t you?” Ashton asked.
“We did.”
“And there are eight of you guys — and your mom and dad. That’s ten people. That’s how many people are supposed to live in a house this size, right?”
Ford smiled to himself as he turned back to the stove. “I don’t mind having the place all to myself. I enjoy it. Are you ready to eat, kid?”
Ashton slid down from the stool. “Nearly. I didn’t set the table yet.”
“You’d better get that taken care of, then, hadn’t you?”
Ford dished up two plates of spaghetti bolognese, smiling to himself as he remembered the first time Ashton and his mom, Everly, had come to visit. He’d taken the kid on a tour of the house to give Everly and Tanner some time alone. Ashton had helped him set the table for dinner, and ever since then, it had become his job.
When the table was ready, Ford carried the plates over.
“Did you make any of your garlic bread?” Ashton asked.
“I sure did.”
“Please, may I—”
“What’s the deal?” Ford asked with a grin.
“Where is it?”
“Same place it always is, bud. Hanging in the mudroom. Go get it.”
Ford took his seat at the head of the table while Ashton trotted off to the mudroom. When he came back, he was wearing one of Ford’s old shirts over his own.