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“Oh, hey,” she said, removing her cheek resting on her palm. “How was bingo?”
“It was fine.” She seemed anxious as she pulled on the fibers of the area rug she was sitting on. Lucas decided to put her out of misery. “I spoke with your mom tonight. You’re welcome to stay a few more weeks or even through the summer, if you’d like. Completely up to you, and your mom.”
Wearing a pajama top that matched the bottoms, she appeared much younger than fourteen.
“What would you like for me to do?” she asked, those dark eyes reaching into his soul.
Lucas was momentarily surprised. Few people asked him what he wanted. Conversations tended to merge toward mediation, negotiation, and sometimes consensus. Rarely did anyone, adult or otherwise, ask him for his preferences. “I’d like for you to stay for as long as you’re comfortable. I know school is starting up soon and there must be friends that you miss. I don’t want to be greedy with your time.”
Small shoulders lowered at the mention of school and friends. “I’d like to stay,” she said in a small voice.
“Then you’ll stay,” he said. “How about we play it by ear? If you start getting homesick, just let me know.”
She nodded.
“What are you reading?”
She lifted the book, which seemed to require more muscle than she had yet to develop in her thin biceps.
“I found this old textbook in your office. It’s on public policy. I hope you don’t mind.”
“Not at all,” he said, helping her by holding the spine as if trying to read the title. “I have a couple others you might enjoy that are a little less stuffy. They’re at my office at the city building. I’ll bring them home after work tomorrow.”
“Okay,” she said, closing the book. “I’ve, um, been meaning to ask you, did you know my grandparents? I mean, not your parents, obviously, but my mom’s.”
“Not personally, no.”
“Do you know where they used to live?”
He nodded, grabbing a pen and paper where she had been taking notes, he jotted it down.
Lucas didn’t have to stop and think. He knew the address by heart. There were nights after football practice or games when he’d park a fair way from her house, scrunched down in his truck, waiting for her to come home. Knowing she was safe, a far greater priority than socializing. Waiting for her to return, far less agonizing than trying to hunt her down and save her from herself.
The house had been left intact, with all the furniture, after the Wellborns’ deaths. He had received confirmation from the county probate office Birdie had been informed of their death through the mail. He had also learned through the Wayward grapevine that she had failed to respond to several realtors eager to get their hands on the property that was worth more than the actual house, based on its location.
Maybe he should suggest a quick sale of the house considering Birdie’s financial situation? He knew a couple of developers who had hammered him over the years about selling Folsom’s. The same developers would be interested in Birdie’s homestead for the same reasons.
“So you know, your mom will be picking you up in the mornings and dropping you off in the afternoons after I get off work.”
Mia smiled. “Just like my friends who have divorced parents.”
“Yeah, not such an uncommon practice these days, I suppose.”
“Luke, do you… hate my mom?”
“Hey,” he said, hearing the distress in her voice and dropping beside her and hugging her to him. “No, I could never hate your mom.”
She pulled back, grabbing onto the sleeves of her pajama top. “I mean, I kinda get it if you did. After keeping me from you for all these years. I mean, seriously, it’s a bit twisted, right?”
Lucas shook his head with all sincerity. “I don’t hate your mom, Mia. I admit, our feelings for one another are complicated. But I could never hate her.”
“Good. Because I want to fix her up with Uncle Grant,” she said excitedly. “Think about it, they’re perfect for one another. She’s single and smart, he’s single and has a steady job. They’re both relatively attractive as old people go…”
Lucas sobered at the thought of Grant and Birdie becoming a couple. That wasn’t going to happen. Ever. In his mind, equating to nothing less than the Seventh Circle of Hell.
His daughter didn’t need to know that though. “You might want to hold off playing Cupid. See where things go on their own.”
She nodded. “Okay, but if things start to look promising, I might need your help nudging them along.”
