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Emotion suddenly clogs my throat. “Thank you, Mrs. Marshall,” I say. I never thought someone saying that out loud to me would strike me like a physical blow, but it does.
I take a deep breath. “Do you think she’ll even want the job?” I ask. “Being Mitchell’s stepmom?” I hold my breath while I wait for the answer.
She nods her head toward the road, where Abigail and Mitchell are already walking toward the dock, pulling a little cart filled with fishing poles, tackle boxes, and a couple of folding chairs. Abigail turns back and yells, “Y’all coming or what?”
“I’d say she’s already applied for the job. Now you just need to man up and hire her.”
I grin, and I take Mitchell, Camille, and Rachel to dig worms under the rocks by the bathhouse, where there used to be an endless supply, while Abigail sets up a folding chair for her grandmother and makes sure the poles have hooks and bobbers on them.
Abigail sits next to Mitchell while they fish, and she talks to him about everything and nothing while they pull in fish after fish. I spend all my time taking them off the hook.
“Looks like we’re having fish for dinner,” Mrs. Marshall says.
“We’ll have to run to the store and get supplies,” Abigail reminds her.
“Good,” she replies. She winks at Mitchell. “Mitchell and I can get to know one another while you’re gone.”
Mitchell doesn’t complain about it at all. He just sits there swinging his feet, fishing for all he’s worth.
As the sun starts to go down, Abigail comes over and sits down next to me. “I want the job,” she says quietly.
I hadn’t even realized she could hear us when her grandmother said what she did about her applying for the job of stepmother.
I lean over and kiss the tip of her nose, lingering there for a moment with my eyes closed.
“Eww,” Mitchell complains. “They’re kissing.” He makes a pretend gagging sound.
Camille leans over and gives Rachel a huge kiss on the cheek. And then Mrs. Marshall grabs Mitchell and kisses him, too.
“Girls are weird,” he says as he wipes the side of his face.
“Tell me about it,” I reply.
But that girl, the one that’s mine, she’s perfect.
34
Ethan
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“Are you sure your grandmother doesn’t mind having him stay?” I ask, as I look in my rearview mirror to where Mitchell is waving madly at us as we drive away.
Abigail stares at me, her eyebrows raised like she’s appalled. “Are you kidding? He’s with Gran. Gran is the best.”
I roll my eyes. “I know she’s the best. I asked if you’re sure she doesn’t mind if he stays.” I look back one last time. “I’m just not used to leaving him, I guess,” I admit hesitantly.
“Gran would have told you if she minded,” she informs me. “Besides, they promised to clean the fish.”
“Does Gran know how to clean a fish?”
She shakes her head. “No, but Rachel does. She’s a chef. She’s going to get Mitchell to help, and I’m sure he’ll love the guts part of it.”
Very true. I reach across the cab and grab her hand. I lift it to my lips so I can kiss the back. “Did you make a shopping list?”
She snorts. “For a fish fry?” She taps her temple with her index finger. “I have the whole list in here.”
“So that means you have no idea what we’re getting,” I say with a laugh.
