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“I’ll get that,” she said.
“Here, you sit down,” Cal said, taking Pops’s arm.
“I’m not some kind of glass flower,” he protested.
But Pops sat at the kitchen table anyway while Steph and Cal made short work of cleaning up.
“Let’s stop at the store and grab some good old-fashioned root beer and vanilla ice cream,” Cal said.
Steph looked over at him as she tossed wet paper towels in the garbage. “Root beer floats?”
“Now, that sounds perfect,” Pops said. “Why didn’t we think of that in the first place? We would have avoided all of this mess.”
Steph laughed. “I’m glad we can all agree on the silver lining of this disaster.”
“I don’t see any disaster,” Pops declared, his eyes twinkling.
She crossed to him and kissed his cheek. “You’re right. Everything’s just as it should be.”
By the time they were on their way to the mountains where Brandy and Ian lived on adjacent properties, Pops had started complaining about a mysterious ache in his ankle.
“I wonder if I twisted something when I fell,” he said, lifting his foot as if he could inspect it through his socks and tennis shoes.
“Possibly.” Steph glanced over at him, then continued to watch the road, as she was driving this time. Cal had insisted on letting Pops sit in front. Steph wasn’t surprised—she was definitely getting spoiled by this man. “When did it start hurting?”
“When I stubbed my toe and dropped the mixing bowl.”
Steph met Cal’s amused glance in the rearview mirror. “Hmm. If it still hurts tomorrow, we can call the doctor.”
Instead of vehemently protesting like Steph expected him to, Pops said, “All right.”
She found herself smiling when Cal rested a hand on her shoulder and gave her a light squeeze.
They pulled in front of Brandy’s place, which was a fixed-up cabin that had been in the Kane family for a while. Other cars lined the long driveway up to Ian’s newer cabin.
“Wow, there are a lot of people here,” Pops said.
“It just means more food choices,” Steph said.
Cal helped Pops out of the car, and she noted again how nice it was to have him around. It was like her workload was cut in half, or almost felt nonexistent, because even if Cal hadn’t been doing as much as he was, she enjoyed his presence.
“Food, right?” Pops said. “I’m starving.”
“Really?” Steph asked with a laugh, linking arms with him.
Cal grabbed the box where they’d put in all the fixings for the root beer floats.
The closer they got to Ian’s cabin, the louder the music and conversation grew. They found everyone in the back, where a barbecue was already cooking away on the deck.
A large golden retriever bounded toward them. Before he could plow into Pops, Steph reached out her hand. “Hey, Duke. How are you buddy?”
Duke sidled up to her and pressed against her leg as she gave him a rubdown.
Ian appeared. “Duke, come here. Let them settle in first.” He strode toward them and took the box from Cal and peered inside. “What do we have here?”
“Dessert plan two,” Cal said.
“Looks good to me.”
