Page 62 of Tossed into the Mob
“Here goes.” We both hit send and waited, and we weren’t disappointed.
Hope the sharks don’t bite.
About time you learned to balance.
I guess we’ll keep your dinner warm for the next three to five years.
Do they take gold doubloons as payment for bail?
We finished the day by tossing coins into a wishing well crab pot. It had crabs at the bottom that the locals kept well fed, and your wish would come true if they touched your coin.
“What did you wish for?” I asked Brock.
“To keep every day just like today.”
TWENTY-TWO
BROCK
I stared at the mountain of tiny jars covering every surface of Grandpa Arnie's kitchen, now our kitchen. We’d moved in months ago, and though we’d made the place our own, with the man himself in the house, I couldn’t help thinking it was his place. Technically, he did still own it.
“Children need a home with a yard,” he’d insisted when we were deciding where to live.
Though I was certain Treyton’s grandpa had never been in the army, his food preparation resembled a huge military operation. There was one baby in my belly, but Grandpa was assembling enough food for ten. The room smelled like how I imagined a restaurant kitchen did, with multiple aromas fighting for dominance.
I picked up a jar labeled “Sweet Potato and Sage Puree #3” and compared it to “Sweet Potato and Sage Puree #7.” I didn’t mention that perhaps babies didn’t like sage. I’d find a use for it, but for now, everything was going into the massive freezer in the basement.
“You’re going to so much trouble, Grandpa. Don’t you want to rest?”
“You can never be too prepared.” He bustled between the stove and three different food processors. “And babies go through growth spurts. One day they won't eat anything, the next they'll eat everything in sight. Plus, what if your little one has allergies?”
With Treyton being a shifter and me not suffering from any food allergies, I hoped we’d bypass that, but again, I kept quiet.
“I've made different versions.” He pointed toward a section of jars with purple lids. “Those are dairy-free. The green lids are nut-free. The yellow lids are both.”
I pictured the future with my mate and me eating nut- and dairy-free baby food for months after our little one spat out both versions.
I counted the jars. There had to be close to fifty, with more batches simmering on the stove. “Grandpa, this is amazing. I can’t thank you enough, but the baby won't start solid food for months.”
“Which gives me the opportunity to perfect the recipes!” He held up another jar, this one containing what looked like green mush. “Pea and mint puree with a touch of lemon. I think it'll be a winner. And mint is great for digestion.”
I pictured even more dirty diapers than the norm—whatever that was—in our future.
Dad appeared in the doorway, took one look at the jars lining the kitchen counter, and backed away slowly. “I'll just... go help with the nursery.”
Smart man. But I couldn't abandon Treyton's grandfather. This was his first great-grandchild, and he was determined to spoil them. Everyone in the family was excited because our child was the first baby of this generation. Madd had no kids and neither did Gale’s children.
“What's the difference between puree number three and number seven?” I asked, knowing I may regret it.
“Number three has a pinch more sage, and I steamed the sweet potato instead of roasting it. Number seven is roasted sweet potato with less sage but a hint of cinnamon.”
Oh. How would I remember all of that? But Arnie tapped his tablet, saying he’d recorded everything, and I remembered he used to run a less-than-legal old-school betting ring when he worked for La Luna Noir.
The baby kicked me as if to say, “I prefer the roasted sweet potato, please.” Or maybe they were as overwhelmed as I was. I kissed Grandpa because he was so excited about the baby and he’d be such a loving great grandfather. Flint told me Arnie and Rudy used to argue about who would hold Lottie when she was born.
The kitchen timer chimed, and Grandpa rushed to the oven, pulling out what looked like tiny muffins. “Sweet corn and zucchini bites,” he announced. “For when the baby starts on finger foods.”
“That won’t be for over a year.”
