Page 93 of My Sweet Dollie, You Have to Love Me
“She’s my best friend.”
“A cupcake still doesn’t seem fair to me.” I let the door take my weight.
“It would mean the world to her.”
“Well, I have some supplies. Let’s see how many cupcakes I can make in the time it takes to fix a window.” I let Nyx inside, locking the door once he and his tools stepped into the foyer. “How is she doing? I tried to talk to her in town, but I can be kinda awkward, and I don’t think she recognized me.”
“Maybe not. She was young when you left. But she’s good. The center is amazing, and there are other children with Down syndrome. She has friends. She’s got her first crush on a kid around her age. I shouldn’t feel nervous because don’t we all get one at that age?”
My smile almost drops, remembering how emotional I was at that age. And how all those emotions circled one boy.
“But, you know, she’s my baby sister.”
“And you’re feeling all protective and stuff.” The goosebumps are back again, and I’ll blame the memories for them—memories of my own protector.
“Always.” He gives me a wink. “Remind me which way the kitchen is. I always thought this place was like a maze.”
“Oh, it’s huge. I don’t know what my parents were thinking. It’s right through there.” I point, but inevitably end up overtaking when Nyx stalls, eyes on the damaged wall. “This way.”
“Do you need that done, too?” He points to the hole.
“Oh, it’s okay. I don’t want to trouble you.”
“It’s fine, really. I have nowhere to be. I don’t usually work Tuesdays.”
“Then why are you—oh.” I stop myself, realizing what’s happening. “Annabelle asked you to stop by to make sure I’m okay, didn’t she? The window is an excuse.”
“Well, the window does need fixing, and I am a handyman.”
“Even on your day off?”
“Why not?” Nyx steps into the kitchen, and I follow him to the window. “It’s gonna need a new glass.”
“That sounds expensive.”
“It’s not too bad. I get a discount. This one really isn’t worth fixing. It’s a single pane. I’m kinda shocked it survives the bad weather we get, with you being so high up and all. I’ll call my supplier.”
“And I’ll start on the cupcakes.”
“I will happily eat one on the job if you promise never to tell Stasia.”
I zip my lips and toss an invisible key over my shoulder.
“It’s good to see you, Dollancie. Welcome home.”
Thirty-six cupcakes. That’s how many cupcakes I can make in the time it takes to change a window.
Six cupcakes is how many Nyx can eat on the job.
Both of us could have probably worked a little faster if we weren’t talking every other minute.
Nyx never brought up my family. And it was refreshing to just talk to someone about the boring topics in life.
It took my mind off being in this house, and with him here, it didn’t feel like a scary place.
But now he’s gone.
Memories taunt me as I enter the reading room. Memories of my mother and the ornaments she collected. None of which are on the floor now. Thanks to Annabelle and Nyx, the room looks something like it did two mornings ago, but without the things that gave it character. The broken mirror I’d tried to avoid looking in, the miniature clock, and those awful accusations peeping through the paint.
