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All day, Harper has found me hilarious, but she looks up at me with anger in her big eyes, her cheeks going red. "Stop it, Unca Ash."
She reminds me so much of her mother. I remember plenty of times my little sister got fed up with my teasing and goofiness and raged at me to stop. I flip the bottle and squeeze it out onto the bread. "You just tell me when, Harp."
She doesn't tell me to stop until the bread is entirely coated in a thick layer of ketchup.
"Want me to cut the bread up for you?" Honey puts down her fork and picks up the knife next to her plate.
Harper doesn't answer. She picks up the whole slice of bread and takes a big bite. Immediately, she spits it out and bursts into tears. I look at Honey, but she seems as bewildered as I feel.
"I'll take her." Like an angel in plaid, Clover swoops in and scoops Harper out of her seat - a chair we had to stack a few books on so Harper could reach the table.
Clover cuddles Harper up to her chest and my niece, either from shock or comfort, stops crying. "I'll bring her back to eat if she calms down," Clover says. "You finish your meal."
I must be looking at Clover with every bit of the awe I feel, because she smirks as she sways side to side with Harper in her arms. "I worked in a gym nursery for three years. I got this."
She leaves with Harper, and I watch them go. What the hell is the right thing to do in this situation?
"Clover's got her," Honey says. "She's most comfortable when she's doing something to help someone else, so don't feel like you have to go after her. Enjoy your meal."
I stare at Honey. Have I stepped into an alternate dimension? Clover has never seemed to me like a self-sacrificing, helping sort of person, but then I guess I don't really know her at all. I only know her as the enemy, my competition. I don't even know why she wants the gym so badly.
I just know I want to kiss her every time I see her. And suddenly I want to know so much more.
Around the table, everyone else seems mostly oblivious to Harper's meltdown and Clover's rescue. Noah and Daisy are in a deep, low conversation about something that must be serious. Grant and Goldy are debating loudly about the merits of the National Park Service selling t-shirts with Bigfoot on them. Henry, Max, and Dani are discussing a movie and laughing a lot.
Honey watches them all, a small smile in place even as she chews.
I stuff in a bite of lasagna and realize how hungry I am. As I chew, I try to come up with something to talk to Honey about.
She turns to me before I've finished chewing. "What's your favorite dish?"
"I like a good burger. But ice cream and apple pie is definitely a close second."
Her smile is heart-stopping. "Of course you do. But I mean, what's your favorite literal dish? What piece of crockery or stoneware do you use every day? What would you rather not live without?"
It's one of the odder questions anyone's ever asked me, but I give it careful consideration because one thing I've learned about Honey this afternoon is that she doesn't ask a question without a good reason. "Honestly, most of what I use of that nature could be replaced by paper plates. I don't like hot drinks and mostly carry a water bottle around all day. The only thing I can think of is a Christmas ornament that has Harper's handprint on it. Amelia gave it to me this past Christmas."
"Interesting," Honey says thoughtfully. "And a good idea for an additional activity for school trips or family visits to the farm." She goes back to eating like that's the end of the conversation.
"Why are you asking?"
"Oh." She pushes her black hair behind one ear. I assume she's dyed it because it's obsidian with streaks of blue through it. And because her eyebrows are honey gold. "I was thinking about pottery to offer that could have Bigfoot on it. Mugs or plates or ring dishes. I just wondered what a sporty man like you would choose to buy."
"It doesn't sound like Grant's too keen on anyone selling anything with Bigfoot on it."
Her eyes twinkle, and her smile is mischievous. "I'm not going to be asking his opinion on the idea, Mr. Aldridge, and I'd appreciate it if you don't mention it to him."
I chuckle. "He'll find out, eventually. Secrets don't keep around here."
She shrugs. "All the proceeds will go to the farm. It'll annoy him, but he won't be able to complain when he sees how much money we're making."
Across the table, Grant explains to Goldy why encouraging more inexperienced people to tromp through the woods, often going off trail to look for Bigfoot, is a terrible idea. I don't thinkGrant will be as easy to convert as Honey thinks he will be, but I get the feeling she doesn't really care what anyone thinks.
I eat quickly so I can relieve Clover, rinse my dish, and put it in the dishwasher. I leave Harper's uneaten food at her seat.
Clover's in the living room, sitting on one of the four couches, Harper passed out cold on her lap. "She just fell asleep like two minutes ago," Clover says in a low voice.
Harper doesn't even flinch.
