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Despite Maisie’s persistent indictments, Birdie never retaliated, nor did she deny any of her accusations. There were times when Lucas thought he saw smoke billowing around Birdie’s head, she’d looked so mad. The term ‘fire-breathing’ came to mind.
But she never said a word against Maisie.
Eventually, as it pertained to their collusion, he determined greed the motivating factor as opposed to any newfound level of sisterhood.
Mia broke the silence. “What are we doing today? Church?”
That was a surprise. What fourteen-year-old kid wanted to attend church service on a bright, summer day?
“Do you want to go to church?” he asked.
“No, but we’re in the South, isn’t that what everyone does on Sunday morning?”
“Not when they sleep in late.”
“Oh, sorry” she said, stuffing the last of the toast in her mouth.
“Today, we’re painting a house,” Lucas said, his eyes conveying to Grant the day’s plans were still a go.
“Are you going to drop me off at the Chief’s house?” she asked, her mouth still full.
“Nope. You’re going to help.”
“Really?” she asked, unexpectedly excited.
“Yep. It’s all-hands-on-deck. That’s how we do things in Wayward.”
She jumped out of her chair, and as if thinking twice, grabbed the napkin Lucas had set next to her plate and swiped her mouth, missing the jam entirely.
“I’ll go get dressed.”
Lucas waited until he heard the door to the guest bedroom open and shut.
“Thoughts?” He couldn’t wipe the grin off his face. Mia was beautiful, witty, and charismatic.
Grant leaned on his elbows, his head in his hands, appearing awestruck from the encounter, said, “First, she’s your spitting image, funny as hell, and really smart.”
“And?”
“I don’t know. It’s kind of surreal. Like I’m talking to her while wrapping my head around the fact that she’s your kid.”
“I know. Imagine being me.”
“But I also can’t help but wonder something.”
“What’s that?”
“Where the hell is Maisie?”
