Page 57 of Resolution
“Oh.” Frankie’s unusually quiet for a few moments.
I do my best to let her process whatever is on her mind, but finally, I can’t take it any longer. “What’s on your mind, Franks?”
“Well…” She plates the pancake and makes eye contact, finally. “Dad’s out of town for the next two weeks and there’s this father/daughter dance.” She pauses and suddenly appears shy, but quietly asks, “Will you take me?”
Suddenly, my throat is thick, and I can’t speak. When I don’t answer right away, Frankie stammers, “If you don’t want to go, that’s okay… I just…thought…”
“I’d be honored, Frankie,” I croak out before she can continue with her line of thought. Then I clear my throat. “Really. Tell me when and I’ll be there.” I’m not the only pilot Riggs employs, so it should work out, regardless of the date.
She rattles off the date, then goes on to tell me how we will need to dress up and find something that matches one another. Ugg… I see another shopping trip in my future. I guess that’s the price for having girls in my life. But when I look at the smile on Frankie’s face as she gushes over the details, I know I’d make a thousand more, if she reacts like that.
Samantha joins us in the kitchen, fresh from taking a shower. Her hair is still wet, hanging loose around her shoulders. There’s no denying she’s over six months pregnant in the yoga pants and fitted green t-shirt she’s sporting. She couldn’t look more beautiful if she tried. One hand cradles the babies growing inside instinctively while the other rests at the base of her back.
Frankie sets a plate in front of Samantha at the counter as she sits on one of the barstools. “Here, Mama, have this.”
Samantha looks around the counter at the toppings I have placed out and narrows her eyes as she doesn’t find what she’s looking for. When she starts to stand, I ask, “What do you need, beautiful?”
“Just some powdered sugar.”
“I got it,” Frankie chirps and Samantha sets in to buttering her pancake.
“Where’s Maddie?” Samantha asks the room.
I shrug. “Haven’t seen her.” I dish up Samantha some of the strawberries I’d cut up for this morning’s breakfast.
Samantha turns her attention to Declan. “Have you eaten, Dec?”
“I’m good,” he offers as he zones back into the television show he’s watching. He mumbles something else, but I don’t catch it.
Once we’re through eating and there’s no sign of Maddie surfacing this morning, we start to clean up. Just as we’re finishing, Samantha calls over to Declan, “Can you bring in your dishes from this morning, Dec?”
He completely ignores her, entranced in his show.
I wipe down the counter as Samantha tries Declan again. “Hey, Dec. Bring your dishes in. I want to start the dishwasher.”
I faintly hear Declan grumble something, but he ignores her once again.
“Declan,” I sternly say to get his attention.
He turns to look in my direction. “What?” he replies as he looks to me defensively.
“Your mom asked you to do something.” I give him a pointed look and he blanches like he has no idea what I’m talking about.
Samantha politely repeats herself, “Can you bring in your dishes? I want to start the dishwasher.”
“In a minute,” Declan mumbles, then focuses his attention back to his television program.
Oh, hell no. He didn’t just say that. I straighten my stance and am about to stalk over to him to give him a piece of my mind and remind him of his manners, when I feel Samantha’s touch on my arm, holding me in place.
“Give it until the commercial,” she whispers so that no one but me can hear.
I wait the three minutes until the next commercial, then I pointedly look toward Sam. She rolls her eyes, puts the soap in the dishwasher, then she calls across the room, “Dec, it’s a commercial. Time to bring me your dishes.”
He groans loudly before mumbling, “Geesh. What’s the big deal?” He begrudgingly grabs the plates and glass beside him and brings it to set on the kitchen counter. His attitude rolls off him in waves, and I’m completely out of my element. I look to Samantha, who merely shakes her head and rolls her eyes behind his back. As hard as it isn’t to interfere, I’ll take my lead from her. No sense in rocking the boat unnecessarily.
Declan walks back to the couch and plops down. Just as he’s about to cover up with a blanket he’d tossed down, Samantha asks, “Have you finished that biography project that’s due on Monday?”
“Ugg…” He flops his head against the couch hard. “I’ll get to it…”What’s gotten into him today?
