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“Sweets of Gold,” I said. “Looks like a little candy shop.”
“Let’s go, Mar!” Spence took his younger sister’s hand and ran to the edge of the sidewalk, where he paused to make sure there were no cars coming, telling Marley to remember to look both ways.
“Hey!” I called to them, checking to make sure there were no cars coming as they ran across the street to the little shop.
I shook my head and sighed. I couldn’t make up for all the time I’d missed in their younger years when I was focused primarily on hockey for nine months of every year. But I’d assumed when I became a single dad recently that at ages six and nine, they’d be good at listening and following directions.
I’d been wrong.
I followed my children to the little shop, where even the doorknob was gold. As soon as I walked in, the smell of baking chocolate chip cookies made my stomach rumble.
“That’s fairy dust,” an older white-haired man said. “The fairies fly in here at night and sprinkle their magic gold dust on everything.”
“Whoa,” Marley said, her eyes wide with wonder.
Both of my kids were about to put something in their mouths, and I raced over and snatched whatever it was out of Spencer’s hand.
“You can’t just eat random stuff strangers give you!” I scolded. “You have an allergy.”
“Oh, that’s my fault,” the older man said. “I’m so sorry. I gave them the truffles and I didn’t ask about allergies.”
“Mmm,” Marley said. “I can taste the fairy dust. It’s delicious.”
Spencer pushed up his glasses and glared at me. “I can have chocolate, Dad. There’s no shellfish in chocolate.”
“No, there’s no fish anywhere in here,” the man said. “Unless chocolate-covered Swedish Fish count, I suppose.” He held his hand out to me. “I’m Simon Carmichael. My daughter Olivia owns this store. I’m just here covering it while she gets a haircut. And I apologize again for giving your children something without asking you. When I see those wide eyes, I get a bit ahead of myself.”
He seemed like a nice guy. I shook his hand.
“No harm done. I’m Holt Sellers.”
His eyes lit up. “Holt Sellers? Our hometown hockey star?”
“Dad.” Spencer tugged on my shirt. “Can I have my truffle back?”
I passed him the candy and returned my attention to Simon. “I’m retired now.”
Simon nodded with approval. “You went out while you were still on top. Smart man.”
I went out because my life imploded out of nowhere, but I wasn’t about to correct him. Fourteen years of pro hockey was a good run, and I planned to be very involved in youth hockey in the Beard.
“Spencer, look!” Marley cried as she looked at a display case of cupcakes. “The fairies dusted all of them.”
“Can we get cupcakes, Dad?” Spencer asked.
“You haven’t had lunch yet.”
Marley looked back at me with a toothless smile. “Can I have a chocolate one? Please?”
Mealtimes were a struggle with my kids. I couldn’t cook, but I still wanted them to eat healthy food. They’d voted down all my efforts at steamed chicken, shrimp and vegetables in different combinations. All they wanted was macaroni and cheese, grilled cheese and sweets.
“We’ll get some for later,” I said. “But you have to eat some vegetables at lunch.”
“Vegetables are gross,” Spencer complained.
Simon grinned. “How many cupcakes would you like?”
“Ninety-nine,” Marley said, not missing a beat.
