Page 29 of Clean Sweep
“Oh, right. I’ve heard of this. It’s calledmind reading.”
“Daaaad.” She tilted her head back and groaned. “No, don’t get all . . . fatherly . . . on this subject. It’s more about knowing them well enough that you get them. For example, you don’t know Leslie well enough to know what restaurant she’d want, but I do. I’m in tune with her. Don’t have to read her mind. I just pay attention.”
My mind churned over that for a while. Having a teenager daughter was more enlightening than I’d expected. Also, I still thought she meant mind reading, but whatever.
“Fine,” I said. “Find the perfect place for Leslie, romantic and all that ridiculous stuff, but good enough we can still talk and I can get to know her. I haven’t committed to this yet, you know. I’m just thinking about it.”
“Whatever. You’ll do it. Once you set your mind on something, you make it happen. I’ll help, but this is your only pass,” Celeste muttered. “Next time? You have to know her well enough to pick the place.”
“I accept.”
“By the way, Thanksgiving is tomorrow,” Celeste drawled. “You ready?”
My lips twitched with a grin. In the back of the truck, an assortment of grocery bags awaited. Pie crusts, pie filling, heavy whipping cream, a turkey, and various assortments of all our favorite foods. Christmas was an okay day in our house. But Thanksgiving? The holy grail of holidays in our world.
“Ready to eat pie and gain twenty pounds,” I said.
Celeste reached over and we high-fived. I grinned. Felt good to have the coolest daughter in the world.
And so much pie in my future.
7
LESLIE
The coo of a baby drew me out of my office the week after Thanksgiving.
I slipped into the coffee shop to find Stella standing at the counter, a bouncing baby boy held in her right arm. His bright eyes and strong head gazed around. Spit bubbles formed at his mouth. Like his father Mark, he had a bright smile and so much thick hair on top of his head that I wanted to run my fingers through it.
“There’s my handsome guy,” I cried.
Stella turned to me with a bleary smile, then gratefully passed Mark Jr. into my outstretched hands. He stared at me, a bit dazed, but made no protest as I bounced him in place. I glanced at Stella. Dark marks lingered under her eyes, no doubt from sleep loss, but her smile seemed genuine. Her hair had been fixed, she had a hint of lip gloss on, and she wore real clothes instead of sweatpants.
For a new mom of a four-month-old?
She was killing it.
“How are you, Stell?” I asked with a hand on her shoulder. She let out a long sigh as Dahlia bustled behind the counter, fast at work with a coffee pot.
“Tired.”
“It gets better.”
Hope filled her eyes. “When?”
“Realistically? When they leave for college, but even then they’re stressful. Sleep, however, comes in longer snatches closer to six months.”
She sighed. “I can do that.”
“How was Thanksgiving?” I asked.
“We ate sliced turkey sandwiches with cranberry sauce, avocado, and fake mashed potatoes. Mark was in charge,” she added, as if we needed to understand why such a thing would happen.
“You didn’t have JJ cater?” Dahlia asked with a dramatic gasp. “Are you crazy?”
Stella smiled. “No, he and Lizbeth were at Maverick and Bethany’s and I didn’t want to leave home. I’m just . . . not really up for lots of people for a long time while Mark Jr. is still so little. Maverick and Bethany were really cool about it.”
“Sounds like the perfect holiday,” I said with a sigh. “Landon stayed in Jackson City with his new fiancée—said something about being busy up there. The other boys are coming home for Christmas, so it was just me and Blake. We kept it simple too.”
