“Animal crackers!” Delilah exclaims and I think it’s an odd enough answer that everyone stops asking questions.
 
 Dax claps his hands together. “Well, the good news, girls, is you get to spend the rest of the day with me.”
 
 They are happy enough about that and despite everything, I’m pretty okay with it too.
 
 “So, what are we doing?” he asks.
 
 “We were about to paint!” Poppy says, her face like a light bulb.
 
 Dax’s eyes land on me. “Were we now?” he asks.
 
 “I mean I don’t see why not,” I answer, grabbing a lavender purple paint bucket.
 
 “Purple?” Dax asks and I grin. He hates it. And yet…it’s going in the kids’ corner. Appropriate, if you ask me.
 
 “Yes!” Poppy says, dancing around him. “The best of all colors.”
 
 “This one,” I say, looking at the bucket, “It's called Sugarplum.”
 
 “Ooo, Daddy! Sugarplum!” Poppy sings.
 
 Delilah smiles too. “We need brushes. This is going to look so good with the lilies on the wall. Dad, did you see? There are lilies on the wall.”
 
 “There are,” I say, Dax is smiling, though he seems unsure.
 
 Delilah looks at me and fills me in. “Our mommy loved lilies.”
 
 “Oh. Really?” I ask, my eyes flashing up to Dax momentarily.
 
 “Yes. And we painted some on our wall. Purple!”
 
 “Sugarplum!” Poppy says.
 
 I can tell it’s a sore spot for Dax. And I get it. The bittersweet feeling of memories that both cut like glass and connect you to the past in a way you’d never give up.
 
 “And does Miss Libby think the shelves should be the color of periwinkle?” he asks, looking over at me.
 
 “I think that if that is what makes you girls happy, then it is the absolute most perfect color for this bookshelf,” I answer. “After all, it is the kids’ corner. A corner made of magic.”
 
 “Yes. Magic,” Poppy says with a sparkle in her eyes.
 
 So, they paint the shelf purple. It’s messy and thick and by the time it is done it looks like children did it and I love it.
 
 A whale noise rumbles from Delilah’s tummy and Dax smiles and raises an eyebrow that makes her giggle.
 
 “Somebody’s hungry,” he says.
 
 “Very,” she answers.
 
 “The monster in my tummy is hungry too,” Poppy says. “I think he wants ice cream.”
 
 “I think he needs dinner,” Dax says. “How about–”
 
 I cut him off with a smile. “How about you all come over for dinner?” I ask.
 
 The girls’ faces light up as though I said it was Christmas in July. “Oh, can we?!” Poppy asks.
 
 “Absolutely,” I answer. “We can make tacos and watch a movie, and it will be lovely.” My eyes sweep up to Dax. “Is that okay?”