Page 9 of Deep Waters
“Ice cream isn’t a healthy dinner,” Tae said solemnly.
“Nope. That’s what makes it fun.”
We bundled the kids into the car and downtown to the boba and ice cream store. Maybe it wasn’t responsible parenting, but Rae and I weren’t parents, and we had some sad kids on our hands.
A familiar pink-haired woman turned from the cashier with a double scoop as we joined the line behind a family of five. My gran’s gently lined face twisted into an expression of mischief as she caught sight ofme.
“There’s my boy.” Her gaze encompassed Rae at my side and the kids holding Rae’s hands. “Do I have great-grandkids I don’t know about?”
“If you do, you’ll have to take it up with Drew or Cole. These are Jia Dawkins’s kids, Tae and Hana,” I said.
“We’re getting ice cream for dinner,” Hana volunteered, eyes big as she took in my gran’s pink hair and matching long sundress. “We match. You lookbeautiful.”
Gran winked at the little girl. “Right back atcha, Hana.” Her gaze shifted to the little boy. “And who might you be?”
“Tae, ma’am.”
Gran frowned. “You, I don’t like.”
“Gran—” I broke in. Tae was having a rough enough day as it was. He didn’t deserve my Gran’s idea of a tongue lashing for implying she was old. Because, to him, she had to look at least two hundred.
Gran twirled once and held her cone aloft. “Do you know any other adults who wear twirly dresses and eat ice cream for dinner?”
Tae cast an uncertain glance my way but seemed to think better of telling her I was fifty percent of that description. “No.”
“Are you here to eat ice cream?” my grandma asked the little boy, glaring suspiciously.
“Yes.” Tae looked to me again, uncertainty written across his face. He didn’t know what to make of my gran. To be fair, I was in my thirties and still figuring her out.
Gran sniffed, nodding to him. “Then I revise my opinion. Anyone who eats ice cream is okay by me.” He gave her a tentative smile. The kind you’d give your crazy aunt Carol when she took her dentures out to make a joke. “Carry on.” She gestured, a queen to her peasants, and we took our turn at the head of the line.
By the time we each had a scoop of ice cream, Gran had disappeared. We walked down to the waterfront, picking a bench overlooking the marina to eat. June was the perfect time to visit Friday Harbor. Days were long, the sun almost always shone, but it wasn’t hella hot. Rae laughed every time I complained about temperatures over seventy-five, but when you lived on a sailboat without air conditioning, any temperature over the mid-seventies was rough.
Hana and Tae seemed content to lick at their cones, watching as the ferry loaded for an evening run. I bit back the urge to point out that their mother was probably on that ferry. The whole point of ice cream was to distract them from missing her.
“Does your gran get ice cream for dinner often?” Rae asked, gentle humor in her tone.
“She used to take us out for ice cream every time our parents left town,” I admitted, smiling fondly at the memory. Drew always chose chocolate. Cole claimed that was boring. He was more of a rainbow sherbet kind of guy. Violet loved strawberry, and I bounced around from flavor to flavor, just like Gran.
“That’s so sweet.” Rae smiled. “I like that we’re continuing the tradition.”
I arched one brow. “Of bribery?”
She chuckled. “Nothing wrong with a little reward for future good behavior.”
Chapter 5 – Rae
Any worries I’d had about spending time with Zach after my breakup with Simon dissolved under the weight of the kids’ distress over their mom leaving. I could have kissed Zach when he suggested ice cream. Hana perked up immediately. Tae was a harder sell, but even he seemed happier by the time we reached the ice cream parlor.
It was only after Tae finished an entire cone of chocolate that I remembered an important detail: he was lactose intolerant. There went my stand-in-parent-of-the-year award.
We made it to the public restroom by the farmer’s market just in time. Zach followed Tae inside. Sounds of Tae’s distress reached Hana and me as we waited outside, and I grimaced.
“C’mon, Hana, let’s walk around the square while we wait.”
We toured the courtyard, admiring the new bandstand and the pig statue that commemorated the Pig War between the US and Canada. The brick-patterned sculpture was decorated for summer in a festive straw hat and flowers. Hana fingered one of the flower petals gently.
“Pretty, right?” I smiled at the picture she made. Dark pigtails, smooth cheeks, pink outfit against the darker pig.
