“All right, let’s not interrogate your brother at the dinner table,” Mom says. “Otherwise, he might never bring Rose along with him. And we all want that, don’t we?”
Her eyes sparkle at me even as she lifts an eyebrow in silent dare.
It was a jerk move to cut off her invitation to Rose, but I couldn’t make that decision in an instant. Not when Rose’s presence would take what little peace I find in these dinners and shake it like an Etch-a-Sketch. I grumble about the weekly chaos, but at least it’s familiar. Rose being here would add one more layer of uncertainty to an already unpredictable part of my week.
I chew my burger, glowering at my plate. When she teased me that she might feel right at home with my family, something in my chest leapt in approval. She would fit in like she was made for us. No doubt in my mind. I both regretted I’d already shot down the invitation and feared letting it play out.
The more I consider it, the more I suspect I wouldlikehaving Rose Etch-a-Sketch my life. Just take everything I am and throw it in the air to see where it lands. I wouldn’t even mind picking up the pieces.
Luke nudges Jovie with his elbow. “How much progress did you make on the hammer today, peanut?”
Someone convinced Luke to have Bridger Hardware sponsor a float for the Fourth Fest parade. They also convinced him to drive Dad’s classic Ford truck, pulling a trailer holding a larger-than-life hammer piñata to represent the store. They further managed to convince the rest of us that we need to ride on the float as a family and toss out candy during the parade.
Incidentally, all of those convincing someones were Jovie.
Her face lights up, despite the splatter of condiments aroundher mouth. “So much! The frame is all done. You have to see it. And Granddad taught me how to use a sander!”
Luke cuts Dad a severe look. “Did he?”
Dad hefts a shrug, sheepish but not terribly apologetic. “She wore protective goggles.”
Luke is unimpressed by this info. Jovie goes to daycare sometimes and has a variety of camps she does over the summer, but she spends most of Luke’s work days with Mom and Dad now. It’s a good situation for everyone, even if it can test Luke’s patience from time to time.
“You learned to use one when you were eleven,” Dad says. “I just gave her a head start.”
“I learned to use a sander before you?” Jovie grins up at her dad, wiggling in her seat like she can’t help the celebration. “That’s so cool.”
Whatever frustration he felt at Dad jumping her ahead on the power tool permission scale dissolves into a look of absolute love. “I guess it is pretty cool.”
Exactly what I mean about her having all of us wrapped around her finger. The little stinker is impossible to resist.
“You know what would be even cooler?” Nathan asks. “If you put the hammer on a see saw so it moves up and down like it’s really hammering.”
Jovie shrieks, images of papier-máché covered hammers dancing in her head. “Can we? Can we?”
Luke and Dad exchange a look as if they’re figuring out how much time they have left to build this thing. Graham’s gaze has drifted, no doubt mentally drafting the best lever system and how to offset the weight of the hammer’s head versus the handle. Jovie’s bouncing in her seat, looking at each of them in turn to see who’ll crack first.
“I think we can.” Luke barely gets the words out before Jovie’s squealing and hugging him.
“Thank you, Daddy.” She’s practically fallen out of her chair topress her face against his chest. “This is going to be the best float ever.”
“No thanks for me?” Nathan fakes a sad face. “It was my idea.”
Jovie grins wildly at him across the table. “Thank you, Uncle Nathan.”
“You’re just trying to outdo whatever Irwin Outdoors comes up with.” Lucy aims her comment around me at Nathan.
“Uh, yeah. The guy’s married to the woman in charge of making it a knockout parade. Obviously, they’re going to do something big.”
“We should have planned floats for our school clubs.” Lucy’s attention rests on Graham now. “A papier-máché fountain pen for me, and a microscope for you. It’d be pretty fun.”
“There’s one big reason we didn’t.” He presses his glasses a quarter-inch higher on his nose.
Lucy’s shoulders sag. “Right. Funding.”
“You could plan a fundraiser for next year’s parade,” Mom says. “Get the kids involved in designing and building them. I bet they’d love it.”
“How much do you think floats would cost for the clubs?” I ask. “Ballpark estimate.”
