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“She does. We’re leaving in an hour,” Sammie said.
“Do you like Sunday school?” I asked the little one.
Chloe’s face lit up. “Yep. I got a sticker.”
“For what?” I asked.
“Being good.”
I caught Sammie’s eyes and we shared an amused smile.
“It’s good to be good,” I said. “Well done.”
“Why?” Chloe asked.
“Why be good?” How could I answer this one without scarring the child for life with one of my smart-aleck retorts? “It’s good to be good because it helps your mom.”
“That’s right,” Sammie said, plopping a few pieces of toast in front of her daughter. “It does help me, but it’s also the way Jesus wants us to be.”
Chloe appeared to have lost interest in this philosophical discussion after the arrival of the buttery toast. She picked up a piece and examined it carefully. For what, I couldn’t say. But she seemed to find it satisfactory and bit into one corner with her tiny teeth.
Sammie fixed her attention on me. “I hear you’re taking a certain someone to dinner tonight.”
“How did you know?” I asked.
“She told me,” Sammie said. “We’re friends.”
“I don’t know where to take her,” I said, sighing. “I have no plan.”
“And you can’t entertain her here, given all your roommates.”
“That’s right. Any ideas?”
“I’d say bring a picnic to her, but that motel room she’s in is not exactly romantic.” She shuddered. “I wouldn’t recommend setting anything on that rug.”
“Agreed.” Having finished most of my bagel, I pushed my plate aside. “Plus both of us cook all week. It would be nice to enjoy a different restaurant’s food.”
“You know what?” Sammie asked, excitement giving her voice a lilt. “I know what to do. I’ll cook and serve you and we’ll set the dining room table like a restaurant.”
“Good plan except for my knucklehead brothers.”
“Do you think we could send them off to your mother’s for the evening?” Sammie asked.
“Not an option. I haven’t told anyone about taking her out. They’re going to think it’s a bad idea.”
“But why? Because you work together?”
“Technically, she works for me,” I said. “It’s tricky because of that. I don’t want her to feel pressured.”
“She doesn’t,” Sammie said. “Not at all. In fact, she seemed as excited as a pig in mud.”
“Mud?” I laughed. “Did she tell you she took me to a mud bath? Supposedly it cures hangovers.”
“She mentioned that,” Sammie said. “It sounded really nice. I’d like to go there sometime.”
“You should.” My mind sped ahead. Should I mention Thad? Suggest they go together? “You know, Thad’s been thinking about trying it.” Total lie. “Maybe you could go together? I’ll watch Chloe.”
She tilted her head, shiny blond hair cascading down her shoulder. “Thad likes spas?”
