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“Oh, um sure. That makes sense. The only soy sauce in my place are the packets from the one Chinese restaurant in town and Stevie swears it’s fake Chinese food.” She laughed and took another shumai. “Bring Mickey, it’ll really bruise Stevie’s ego to have a toddler make better food than her.”
“You are a wicked woman, Lacey Gregory.”
“Maybe so but life with teenagers is a constant battle and sometimes you have to take your wins where you can.”
The same could be said of working with family members. “Do I get to be on your little secret?”
“Not yet. When or if it becomes something to tell, I promise to let you in on it.”
“That sounds ominous.”
“Does it?” She laughed. “I’ve always wanted to be a bit mysterious.”
“Right now you’re succeeding, believe me.”
“Well now you’re just sucking up to me. Did Daddy tell you about the story I have for you already?”
I blinked and sat up a little taller. “No. Tell me.” I couldn’t hide the excitement in my voice at the idea of a real story. No matter what I told Lacey, some stories were more interesting than others.
“There’s a lawyer in town, a female lawyer who moved here five years ago from Knoxville. She takes on divorce and domestic violence cases, her clients are almost exclusively women. Before she came to town the women never succeeded in court, which statistically is just unlikely. On top of that, she’s been assaulted several times by angry soon-t0-be ex-husbands.”
“Wow.” It was right up my alley. “You sure you don’t want this story?”
“No. I think you have the experience and skill to handle this how it should be handled.”
Another compliment? Wow. “Thank you.”
She simply smiled and suddenly I felt like a man half my age, crushing on a woman who was out of my league.
Good thing I was too old and too wise to crush on a beautiful woman who was also, technically, my boss.
Chapter 5
Lacey
“Do you have a husband Miss Lacey?” Mickey looked up at me with a wide smile and bottomless green eyes, waiting for my answer in the middle of the ethnic foods aisle of the supermarket.
I looked down at him with a suppressed smile and shook my head. “I don’t. Do you?”
The little boy giggled and shook his head. “I’m too young but you’re not. Why don’t you have a husband? Is he stupid too, like my dad?”
“Mickey,” Levi turned away from the rows of dark soy sauce and attempted to admonish his grandson but his flow of questions was unstoppable. “That’s not nice.”
He shrugged and switched his view to Levi. “Mama says it all the time, he’s too stupid to realize he’s missing out.” Mickey turned back to me. “Don’t you think my grandpa is handsome? Mama said all the older women in town are panting after him. Are you an old woman too?”
Some days I felt like an old woman, like today. Too many years had passed since I was able to experience the joy and the horror of an inquisitive toddler. “Do I look old to you, Mickey?”
He stared at me for so long, adorable face twisted in deep contemplation until he had an answer. “You look younger than Grandpa but older than Mama.”
I threw my head back and laughed at his honesty. “Thank you, but let me offer you a little tip that you should remember for the rest of your life. Women don’t like to talk about their age.”
Mickey’s brows dipped into a confused frown. “Why not? I can’t wait ‘til I’m older. I’m gonna be big and strong, and I’m gonna see the world just like Grandpa.”
My heart melted and I was pretty sure I fell a little in love with the adorable boy in that moment. “Really?”
He gave an enthusiastic nod and let Levi’s hand go to take mine.
“I think you’ll do all that and a whole lot more.” His small hand was soft and tiny in mine and I felt that pang in my chest I always felt at the thought that Stevie would be my only child, that I would never have the big, boisterous family I’d always wanted.
“I forgot to get ginger.” Levi looked down at Mickey and then to me, a small smile on his lips. “I’ll run to get it and some more scallions. Meet you in the freezer section?”
I nodded and gave Mickey a little tug. “Come on kiddo, you can show me the best ice cream to get.” I winked and the sound of his little boy laughter hit me with another pang of longing.
“My favorite ice cream is the swirls. Chocolate and vanilla. Orange cream and vanilla. Moose tracks. Rocky Road. Mint chocolate chip.” He skipped beside me with more energy than I could muster at the beginning of the day, never mind during early evening.
