Laughing, I swooped him up above me and swayed him from side to side, aware of Lawrence’s uneasy presence when he entered the room a moment later.
“All right, Charlie, say goodbye,” Lawrence told him. “It’s about time for dinner.”
I squatted down to set him back on the ground. “We’ll see you Monday morning, buddy.” He gave me a big hug, choking my neck, which only made me grin wider.
Oliver was already yelling out a quick goodbye to Charlie and attempting to open the heavy front door, which he couldn’t budge.
I pretend to unlock the door. “Try again. It was locked.”
He pulled the handle, squeezing his eyes shut tight, using all his strength. I wrapped my finger near the top of the long ornate handle above his hand and pulled the door open.
“I did it!” he boasted, twisting back to make sure everyone saw. Katherine clapped, building Oliver’s confidence. “It was easy.”
I chuckled. “Told you you were strong.”
Before we stepped outside, I zipped his coat and placed his hat over his ears. Impatient as ever, the second I moved back, he ran right for my car.
“See you Monday morning,” Katherine said softly.
“Thanks for everything,” I replied, glancing from her to Lawrence, who was now holding Charlie in his arms. His expression was thoughtful but pleasant. It told me we were good—that there were no issues standing between us. That was the thing with my family: As quickly as an argument arose, it was put to rest.
I walked out, and Katherine closed the door behind me.
“How about we go home, make some pasta, then hang out in the studio tonight?” I suggested, buckling him into his booster seat.
“I want ham.”
Smiling, I agreed. My boy was like me: He knew what he wanted, and wasn’t afraid of making it clear.
“You got it.”
I stood upright and shut his door. When I climbed in the front seat, I glanced at his reflection in the rearview mirror. “I think we have some cupcakes left for dessert.”
“Choc’lat!?” he squealed, eyes bright.
“I believe so.”
“Hurry!”
I laughed, relieved the day was ending the way it was supposed to: with a smile on my son’s face.
***
We spent Saturday at the local children’s museum, Oliver enthralled with all things dinosaur. His visit to the gift shop had us up late, transforming his bedroom floor into a rough terrain of voracious carnivores and friendly herbivores that Oliver tried to convince me could talk in voices that sounded a lot like dancing chipmunks. We played until he could hardly keep his eyes open, and he dozed off soon after I’d read the first page of his new book on fossils.
When Sunday morning rolled around, I woke early to make breakfast only to find Oliver’s bed empty when I went to his room.
First came the tug of panic, then the racing down the hall only to be stopped abruptly by his giggles echoing from the kitchen. They were soon followed by the familiar hum of my sister. My rush of adrenaline disappeared.
“See, and this is where Grandma and Grandpa used to live,” she told him.
I stood in the doorway, watching her cook at the stove while Oliver sat on the countertop a few feet over, looking through a small stack of photos.
“Oh, and Grandma said this is where she used to work when she was in high school like me.”
“And where would that be?” I asked, strolling in and plucking Oliver from the counter before he fell.
“Hi, Daddy.” He pressed a picture to my face. “See Gramma?”
“Hi,” I pulled my head back to focus on the photo of my mother when she was still young, standing outside a large building with The Harmony Tribune carved over the entrance. “Very nice.”
He handed the rest to me and I closed my eyes for a brief moment. If Julia was planning a presentation about me, it was too early.
“Did Aunt Julia wake you up early?”
He shook his head, smiling. “We making toast for you.”
“French toast,” she clarified for him.
“French toast,” he mimicked.
I sat him on a dining-room chair. “I can’t wait to try it.”
I gave an easy smile despite my less-than-truthful admission. My sister was far from even a basic cook; I always had trouble swallowing whatever she served.
“It’s early,” I said, directing my comment at Julia as I sat beside Oliver, waiting.
She didn’t say a word as she brought over a pitcher of juice and three glasses.
I turned my attention to Oliver, asking how he’d slept. He quickly explained how the penguins that play under his bed at night were up late playing with his new dinosaurs, keeping him awake.
“Next time, just tell them to go to sleep,” Julia advised, giggling.
“I do. They neva listen,” he pouted. I messed his hair, chuckling.
“Here you go. Enjoy.” She marveled with pride as she set our plates in front of us. She grabbed a knife and fork and began cutting up Oliver’s toast before I had the chance.
My first bite was the hardest to swallow. The spice she’d used was one I didn’t recognize and the egg was overcooked, but with my glass of juice it was edible enough.
“I have something to tell you,” she started, sitting across from me. She took a bite from her plate and made a face she quickly tried to cover when my brows shot up in amusement. Yeah, she’d be eating her surprise breakfast as well.
She took a drink and I waited, giving her the go-ahead expression.
“It’s official: I’m moving to Harmony next summer, and I’ve even gotten a job there.”
I took another drink from my glass, then set it down slowly.
She hurried with her words before I could speak. “It’s minimum wage, but it’s in a little boutique on Main Street, not far from the dorms.”
“How did you find a job?”
“I, um, I went there. Mom said I could.”
“I see. You did that this week?”
“Yesterday.”
“Mmm hmm.” I set my fork down and pushed my plate forward, not willing to suffer through her breakfast anymore. “And how will you pay for your classes, books, dorm?”
“I applied for student loans.”
I slid my chair back and stood, carrying my full plate to the sink and dropping it in. What was she thinking? Loans? She didn’t have to go that route. I pulled a yogurt from the fridge and a spoon from the silverware drawer, grabbing a banana from the counter as I walked back over.
“Here you go.” I opened the yogurt and handed it to Oliver, having noticed him moving his French toast around his plate, also not continuing to eat after his first bite. His gloomy face lit up as he took it.
“So then it sounds like you have everything figured out,” I added, peeling the banana and placing it beside Oliver.
“Mom offered to help if I needed it.”
That sent my temper churning further. Of course she’d need help! “Mom doesn’t have the money to help you. She lives on savings, Julia.”
She rolled her eyes. “Mom took me out for a twenty-dollar sandwich yesterday, Logan, with her Chanel handbag and matching gloves. She has money.”
“Fine, do what you want. But our mother has nice things because Lawrence and I take care of her.”