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She points at the five-thousand-piece sailboat one.
“It’s rated at level four, which means difficult.”
She shrugs. “I like the picture.”
“Alright, let’s do it.” I open and dump the box on the large dining room table. Piper watches as I flip the pieces upright. She leans over and helps me.
I lean the box upright, so we have some sort of key.
“I like to put the border together first, then work my way to the middle,” I explain.
She nods and begins putting all the ones that have flat edges to the side. Soon she’s snapped a few together, and I realize it’s the top, so I scoot them in place.
I reach forward and attach one to it, and then she follows with another. Each time they lock together, she smiles wider.
“Do you do this a lot?” she asks, meeting my eyes.
“Not much anymore. We’d always have a puzzle on the dining room table when I was growing up. Each time we’d walk by, we’d work on it until it was finally complete. Once we’d get close to the end, we’d race each other to finish just for the satisfaction of putting the final piece in place.”
She laughs. “Really?”
“Yeah, sometimes it would take weeks. Mom started mod podging and framing them until we eventually ran out of wall space.”
Piper laughs. “I noticed the beach one hanging in my room.”
“Yeah, It was good times.” I grin, remembering when we finished it.
“Sounds like it.” Piper grabs her camera, only this time I’m not sure if she’s acting or being genuine when she presses record.
“Guys! Look what I’m doing right now!” she says directly into the lens, then turns it around to show them. I find it kind of adorable she’s this excited about something so simple. She films herself finding a few that fit together then zooms in on the box. “I can’t wait to show you the finished product!”
I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to her vlogging, but I’ve mastered staying out of her way.
After a few more minutes, she grows bored and eventually returns to the living room. My phone rings, and I step outside. Considering a wall of windows faces the beach, I still keep my eyes on Piper.
“Hey, Mom,” I say with a grin when I answer.
“Tristan! How was the flight? How’s the beach house? Are you coming to visit us?”
“Whoa, that’s a lot of questions at once.” I blow out a breath. “Everything’s fine, but no, I won’t be able to see you guys right now. I’m on special business and can’t leave.”
“Oh,” she says, and I can hear the disappointment in her tone. “We miss you, son.”
“I miss you and Dad too. I promise I’ll make it up to you once everything settles down on my end.”
“Are you in danger?” she blurts out.
I feel bad for lying, but I don’t want her to worry. “Not really. Nothing I can’t handle. Just a stalker situation.”
“Tristan!”
“Mom, please don’t start. You promised you wouldn’t when I decided to take this job, remember?”
She sighs. “I know, it’s just hard after everything. I want you to stay safe.”
“I’m safe now that I’m at the beach house. Appreciate you letting us use it.”
“Do you know how long you’ll be there?”
I glance out at the waves and the white sand. “Not yet. Could be a few days, could be weeks. Only time will tell.”
“If things change, come see us. Oh, and your dad sends his love.”
“I will. Love you and Dad both. I’ll keep in touch.”
“Let me know if you need anything, okay? We’ll be happy to take a drive and bring whatever you need.”
“Thanks, Mom. Love you.”
“I love you too.”
I end the call and go inside where Piper is laid back on the couch with her feet propped up.
“I think I’m going to take a shower. I’m sticky and hot,” she announces when I walk into the kitchen.
“Alright.”
She gets up and goes upstairs like she hates life. I chuckle, wondering if Piper was an unbearable teenager who hated following her parents' rules.
The TV blares, and before I turn it off, I realize she was watching an internet entertainment show, and they’re discussing all the drama in the beauty community. It’s so much, I can’t even keep up with who’s the villain in this situation. They all seem insane. I hear the water turn on upstairs, then go to the table and add more pieces to the puzzle in silence.
Eventually, my phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out.
Easton: Doing okay?
Tristan: Of course.
His text bubble immediately pops up.
Easton: How’s everything going? The princess surviving?
Tristan: As best she can.
Easton: So, when were you gonna tell me you’re working for someone as famous as her? Have you googled her? She’s literally like the JoJo Siwa of our time.
I shake my head.
Tristan: I’m aware of the details of my client.
