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“Her mother is going to love you for that.”
Maria shrugs and tucks her hair behind her ear. “Wait until we move onto swearing.”
“Come on, Princess Isabel. Let’s get you away from the bad influence.”
“Hey,” Maria calls, following us. “You taught me all the worst words.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
I don’t know. “It just is. Where’s Hannah?”
“Making a birdhouse with Dad. Why are you home so early anyway?”
When I enter the house, all those smells I’ve come to love waft through the air. I take a second to breathe it in.
Maria frowns, studying me. “What is with you?”
“I’m feeling a little reflective today.”
“Old age will do that to you.”
Barking a laugh, I nudge her forward. Isabel tries to pronounce Maria’s name while telling me she’s crazy.
The tables have turned.
“She’s a brat, Izzy. Always has been.”
“A brat you love,” Maria shouts over her shoulder.
Cora almost drops her cup of coffee when I enter the kitchen. “You’re here.”
“I should think so. I drove.”
“Why? Is something wrong?” Her face pales. “Oh, Jesus, who died?”
Maria turns from where her head is in the fridge. “Someone’s dead? I knew there had to be something.”
Puffing out my cheeks, I put Isabel down to play with her toys. “Nobody died.”
“Logan, love?” she implores, wanting answers I don’t have. “What’s wrong? You’re home early.”
“Can’t I finish early? Aren’t those the perks of being a business owner?”
She tries to smile, but unlike Maria, she reads me like a book, and in her eyes, I see she’s figured out motives I haven’t yet.
Through the double doors, Hannah traipses in with her new birdhouse in hand. Her eyes widen and she flashes a smile that lights up the room. “Hey, Logan.”
With one arm, she rests her head against me in a half-hug like she can sense I need it.
“Good job with the birdhouse.”
She sways on her feet, a blush creeping to her cheeks. “Thanks. Skip kind of helped.”
Good of her to give him credit.
“Speaking of Skip. Where is he?”
