Page 72 of But For You

“I bet.”

“Hey, Chaz and Pat are gonna come check up on you, okay?”

“You’re late; they were here earlier.”

“Oh, okay, good.”

“I’m glad they didn’t fly out to Phoenix. That would have been a wasted trip for them.”

“Well, I’m lucky I stopped them before they paid for plane tickets.”

I chuckled softly.

Heavy sigh. “I really do.”

“What’s that?” I fished.

“Love you.”

“I know, Sam.”

“ ’Kay, good. It’s good you know.”

My whine was soft, but he still heard it.

“I’ll be home soon, baby.”

I could only nod.

Labor Day was spent doing absolutely nothing. We watched movies, Kola read us Dr. Seuss books, Hannah did her flash cards with words and named objects, and Kola made her recite, then write the alphabet. She was very good at making her letters. He also asked her colors and threw in ridiculous ones, like turquoise, cerulean, and aubergine. I was wildly impressed.

We had charcuterie plates for lunch; along with prosciutto and smoked gouda and dried apricots, we also had Goldfish crackers and apple wedges. We watched movies, and I hoped Sam would call, but it didn’t happen. I knew I had to prepare myself for the radio silence that would probably occur until he got back. Investigative work was not for the faint of heart.

Tuesday morning, I got to work fast. It was easy to just zip down to my office from where the hideout was. Dane was right; there was something to be said for a quick commute. I greeted Dylan with her six-shot vanilla latte, gave Fallon his scone, and was about to sit down at my desk when I got a call from Hannah and Kola’s school.

True to her word, Hannah had packed a water gun—the same Super Soaker her uncle had made sure to bring from our house—and tested her theory on witches and melting. Kola was in trouble as well. He had apparently taken exception to being told that his set painting for the school Thanksgiving opera was not good.

We were working on him accepting constructive criticism, but at present, he didn’t like to lose—his tantrums gave new meaning to the words poor sport—or be told something he was doing wasn’t right. Questioning him to try to bring him to the right conclusion was also on his list of pet peeves. The thing was, he was a sweet kid, loving and considerate, but he was turning into a real brat … but only sometimes.

Playing anything with him was getting harder. I, of course, gave him chance after chance, and Sam just stopped whatever they were doing as soon as he showed even a hint of a tantrum. We had to come to some agreement until he either grew out of it or we changed the behavior. Sam had suggested we beat him, and I had just shaken my head. I knew he was kidding, but I really did want to wring Kola’s little neck sometimes when he was crying and stomping his foot.

At the school, Hannah was sorry about the water gun. Miss Chun, her teacher, was biting her bottom lip every five seconds so she wouldn’t laugh; the principal, Mrs. Petrovich, had her closed fist pressed over her mouth so she wouldn’t either. The only one who was annoyed at all was, of course, Ms. Brady, their music teacher. So not amused with being soaked with a water cannon.

“I am so sorry, Ms. Brady. It will never happen again.”

Miss Chun nodded and squinted before turning around fast to hide her face.

Mrs. Petrovich let out one snicker, looking very pained, and then gestured for Ms. Brady to go ahead out. Hannah was sent to sit in the hall, and as soon as the door closed behind her, both women dissolved into fits of rolling laughter.

“You two aren’t helping at all,” I scolded them.

“It’s not even the first time it’s happened,” the principal told me as tears ran from her eyes. “I had a kid two years ago wear a lei made of garlic because he thought she was a vampire!”

Miss Chun was wheezing.

“Three years ago, two kids kept spilling water on her to see if she’d sizzle.”

I squinted at them. “Maybe it’s time to look at what she’s doing around here, education-wise.”