Page 131 of And Now, Back to You

Her smile is quietly delighted. “Hello.”

“Sorry for just showing up like this.”

“Don’t be. Come inside before you get cold. Or Mr. Ribaldi shoots you with his BB gun.”

“He has a BB gun?” I eat up the space between us with three easy steps, brushing past her. She shuts the door behind me, resting her back against it.

“He’s appointed himself as head of the neighborhood security detail. He takes it very seriously.”

“While I’m not thrilled with his methods, I’m glad you have someone looking out for you.”

Delilah’s smile broadens before she looks down at her takeout box, poking at it. “In the very loosest of terms, yes. Mr. Ribaldi looks out for me.” Her voice sounds sad. Wistful, almost. Like I’ve touched a barely healed wound. She pushes off the door. “Come on. I was eating dinner and watching Jeopardy!”

Like most homes in this neighborhood, the layout is small but cozy. Family room, dining room, kitchen, all stacked in a straight, narrow line. I didn’t notice the last time I was here, but colorful artwork crowds the walls. A combination of photographs and hand-painted canvases, including the patron saint Dolly Parton presiding over the dining room table where Chinese cartons are spread out.

The furniture is simple, but colorful and well loved. A cozy-looking armchair sits next to an overstuffed bookshelf, a thick blanket tossed over one of the arms, a book still open face down in the seat. There are two mugs of something left abandoned. A plate with half a muffin and a scattering of crumbs.

Delilah in every single detail.

“Expecting company?” I ask.

Delilah blinks up at me from where she was rummaging around in one of the bags. “No.” She emerges with a fortune cookie, shuffling over to the back of the couch and throwing herself over it. She lands with a huff, her hair wild around her shoulders. “Why do you ask?”

“No reason.”

“Is it because I ordered enough Chinese for a family of six?”

“No.”

“It’s okay. The restaurant gave me four forks. When the DoorDash guy came, he was looking over my shoulder for the party I was having.” She pops open the cookie wrapper and grins at me. “Party of one. I couldn’t decide what I wanted, so I just got a little of everything. I’ll eat the leftovers during the week.”

I slip off my jacket and toss it over the back of a velvet green armchair that I’d bet my next paycheck was rescued from Facebook Marketplace.

“Oh!” Delilah leverages herself up, leaning over the back of the couch. She reaches for the bag on the dining-room table, knocking over one of the chairs. I grab the back of her thigh to keep her from falling and she grabs one of the cookies with a small cry of victory. She tosses it at me. “Congratulations on your promotion.”

“Thank you.” I catch the cookie. “Though I don’t think I’ll ever understand Maggie’s decision-making.”

Delilah’s face softens. “You deserve that promotion, Jackson. You work hard.”

“Debatable,” I mumble. I rip open the plastic and crack the cookie. I read the fortune and snort.

“What does it say?”

I look at the tiny scrap of paper. “A light heart carries you through the hardest of times.”

“That’s better than mine. Mine said, A soft voice may be awfully persuasive.”

I grin. “Should I start talking in a whisper?”

She laughs. “Depends. What are you trying to persuade me to do?”

“I have a list.”

“You and your lists.” She tosses the rest of the cookie into her mouth and chews thoughtfully. “Where are the girls tonight?”

I drag my hand through my hair. “Back at Aiden and Lucie’s. I think the initial excitement of my early return wore off. There was some show they wanted to watch together, and the promise of peppermint hot chocolate.”

Delilah smiles. “It’s nice they have that together.”