Billie narrowed her eyes. “Can we go to the Grossology exhibit?”
“At the science museum?”
“Yes. I want to see the giant nose.”
I looked at my youngest daughter, who had syrup on her chin and vengeance in her eyes.
“Absolutely,” I said. “When it’s your turn, we’ll go see the giant nose.”
“And the burp machine?”
“Obviously.”
“And the poop thing?”
I sighed. Why was this my life? “Yes. And the poop thing.”
Billie smiled, appeased. “Okay. I forgive you for excluding me.”
Bianca was quiet. Too quiet.
I looked at her. “B?”
She stared at her pancake. “You don’t have to take us anywhere expensive.”
“Sweetheart, this isn’t about money.”
She gave me a skeptical look.
“It’s about quality time with the two of you,” I said.
A few minutes later, the front door opened. Billie was out of her chair before I had time to react. “Winnie!”
I heard the familiar laugh from the foyer. “Good morning, Miss Billie.”
“I smelled burnt circles.”
“So do I.”
Billie huffed. “Dad made breakfast.”
“I gathered as much,” Winnie said.
I rubbed a hand over my face. “I can hear both of you.”
Winnie appeared in the kitchen doorway a moment later. A woven basket rested against one hip, and she carried her usual travel mug in the other hand.
Her eyes found mine. For a heartbeat, neither of us spoke. It wasn’t uncomfortable, but it was an odd sort of awareness.
The memory of the previous evening settled between us before she offered a small smile. “Good morning, Conrad.”
My pulse skittered, which was not at all helpful. “Morning.”
Billie grabbed Winnie’s hand. “What do you think of Dad’s burnt pancakes?”
“They’re edible. I promise.” I gestured toward the stove. “They’re right there if you’d like to judge for yourself.”
“I’ll reserve judgment until I’ve had coffee.”
