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“Okay. Okay. I’ll get three of my own.” He did precisely that.
Willow explained to Noah that the nanny had unexpectedly returned to the airport. Drew shared news about fish, beetles, and ladybugs, while Emma attempted to interrupt with essential facts about butterflies and her suspicion that AJ had a stinky diaper.
“Already?” Willow groaned. She met her mother’s gaze and said, “I am so not ready for this.”
“I’m ready,” Drew piped up. “Can we go see our new house now, Mama? I want to see my new room. Mr. Tannehill says he might have found something in his attic that I can play with.”
“He did, did he?” Willow met Noah’s gaze, and they shared a smile.
Genevieve met Helen’s gaze, and they shared an entire conversation.
Ten minutes later, the group was on their way to Noah’s Hideaway, Genevieve and Helen having offered to help with the move-in because they were curious more than because they were needed.
Genevieve rode with Helen on the drive out, and the sisters fleshed out their plans for their upcoming trip, which they’d dubbed the Fangirl Follies. So far, they’d gotten tickets to see Rod Stewart in Vegas, Jason Isbell in Nashville, and Jackson McBride playing a special benefit at his dancehall in Texas. “We’re limited by the election timeline,” Helen admitted with a sigh. “I’m bummed we won’t be able to kick off our trip or close it with a Kenny Chesney concert. But you know, if I were to lose the election, we’d have a lot more latitude.”
“You are not going to lose the election. Not with me as your campaign manager.”
“Well, I haven’t exactly seen you working your fingers to the bone.”
Genevieve held up her hand. “I have stitches!”
“Well, it wasn’t campaigning for me that caused that. It was your temper.”
“You’re right. I’m going to dive in tomorrow. You know, I thought about it during my walk this morning. Perhaps I’ll discover that campaigning is a passion of mine.”
“Uh-huh.”
“It could happen. You’ve actually already given me another idea to try.”
“Oh yeah?” Helen glanced away from the road long enough to give her a wide-eyed look. “Spill the beans.”
“Not beans. Fish. Do you remember Jack Harrington? He was the banker I went out with a few times about five years or so after David died.”
“I do remember Jack. He drove that classic Firebird, didn’t he? The yellow one?”
“He did. But he also kept fish. Tropical fish. It was really quite fascinating. He did a lot of research into the kind of fish to group together in his aquariums. Plus, they’re fascinating to watch. Mesmerizing.”
“Yes, they are. If you’re snorkeling in the South Pacific.”
“Maybe I want to bring the South Pacific to my living room in December.”
Helen shook her head. “I don’t see it, but it’s your passion. Speaking of passion, did you see the same sparks flying that I did between Willow and Noah?”
“I did.”
“Very interesting that she’s moving in with him.”
Genevieve pursed her lips. “Well, not in the traditional sense of the term.”
“We’ll see.” Helen drummed her fingers on the steering wheel and let a full minute pass before she spoke again. “I saw Zach Throckmorton in the coffee shop today. He said his dad is ornery as ever after his medical scare.”
“That’s a fair assessment. I went up to the Triple T this morning and fixed breakfast for him. He was in full grumble.”
“Well now.” Helen shot her sister an appraising look. “Wasn’t that neighborly of you? And you with stitches in your hand, too.”
“I’m accustomed to playing injured, and yes, I was being neighborly. Gage is my friend. I was worried about him. When we spoke on the phone last night, he spent half the conversation complaining about the changes his doctor wants him to make in his diet. I thought I’d show him that a heart-healthy meal can be delicious.”
“It’s difficult to make major lifestyle changes after decades of being set in your ways,” Helen observed. “Which brings me back to this search of yours. Maybe you should make taking care of Gage Throckmorton your next passion.”
