Page 69 of Small Town Daddy

"Thanks, Marie," Lucy called from the hallway, but her voice was muffled—probably trying to wrangle something else into place before more guests arrived.

I followed Marie into the kitchen, where she’d already started unpacking her haul. Scones, muffins, croissants—it was like she’d looted the entire display case at the coffee shop. She lined them up on the counter with military precision, muttering critiques about my arrangement of the serving platters.

"Looks like you’ve got everything under control," I said dryly, leaning against the doorway.

"Someone has to," she shot back, hands on her hips. Then her eyes softened, just a little. "Seriously, though. This place? Gorgeous. You two knocked it out of the park." She turned toward me, one hand sweeping through the air. "The crown molding? The light fixtures? It's giving 'restoration dream' vibes. Mrs. Henderson is gonna have a field day with this."

"Speaking of which," I started, but before I could finish, the woman herself appeared in the doorway, casserole dish clutched protectively in her oven-mitted hands.

"Marcus, dear!" Mrs. Henderson's smile practically split her face. "Do take this before my arms give out. It’s my famous sweet potato casserole—don’t drop it now!"

"Got it," I said, stepping forward to relieve her. The thing weighed a ton. Famous or not, I wasn’t sure how anyone couldeat more than a spoonful of whatever was underneath all those marshmallows.

"Smells amazing, Mrs. H," I said, setting it carefully on the counter next to Marie’s pastry spread.

"Wait until you taste it," she replied with a wink, surveying the room with approval. She adjusted her cardigan and leaned in closer, lowering her voice like she was sharing a secret. "You’ve done wonders with this old place, Marcus. Your daddy would be proud. And Lucy—" her gaze drifted toward the hall—"she’s brought such life into it again. A perfect match, you two."

"Thanks," I said, feeling the tips of my ears heat. Mrs. Henderson’s compliments had a way of cutting straight through your armor whether you wanted them to or not.

"All right, out of the way," Marie announced, shooing Mrs. Henderson toward the living room. "Go mingle! I've got a kitchen to run."

"Bossy as ever," Mrs. Henderson teased, but she shuffled off, leaving us with the scent of sweet potatoes and nostalgia hanging in the air.

Before I could say more, the sound of laughter spilled in from the foyer. Lucy’s laugh—bright and lilting—and another voice I didn’t recognize right away. I stepped into the hallway just as Lucy swung the door shut behind Rebekah.

"You're here!" Lucy exclaimed, throwing her arms around her friend in an uncharacteristically exuberant hug. Rebekah laughed, hugging her back just as tightly.

"Of course I am," Rebekah said, pulling away to hold Lucy at arm’s length. "Wouldn't miss it for the world. This is gorgeous, by the way"—she gestured toward the entryway—"you’ve been busy."

Rebekah was Lucy’s newest friend. She was from a town nearby, and she was a Little. Lucy had been hosting gatheringsof local Littles in out nursery, as a way to make friends and enjoy Littlespace together. It was beautiful.

"Wait till you see the backyard," Lucy said, grinning. She glanced over her shoulder and caught me watching. Her cheeks flushed instantly, but she didn’t look away. "Marcus, you remember Rebekah?"

"Of course," I said, stepping forward to shake her hand. Rebekah had a firm grip, her dark eyes sharp but kind. She was dressed simply—a striped blouse and jeans—but there was a confidence about her that made her stand out.

"Good to see you again," she said with a nod, then turned back to Lucy. "So, when’s the next Little League meeting? I’ve got some ideas I want to run by you."

Little League. That’s what Lucy called the play dates. It was cute as hell.

"Next Thursday," Lucy said, her excitement bubbling over. She launched into a rapid-fire explanation about crafts they were planning, and play dates, and how one of their members had suggested a book club tie-in.

I stayed quiet, watching. The way Lucy’s eyes lit up talking to Rebekah—it was different, freer. Like she didn’t have to filter herself, didn’t have to worry about being misunderstood. It was good to see. More than that, it was a relief.

"Sounds like you've got your hands full," Rebekah was saying with a grin.

"Wouldn’t have it any other way," Lucy replied, and for once, I believed her.

Guests started trickling in, their laughter and chatter filling the air. I stood by the door, shaking hands, nodding at familiar faces—neighbors, old friends, even a few folks I barely recognized but knew by association. Small Falls was that kind of town. Everyone knew of you, even if they didn’t know you.

"Marcus!" Sam Tucker clapped me on the back hard enough to make me stumble. "This place looks brand new." His eyes roamed over the freshly painted trim and restored stained-glass windows. "You and Lucy done good."

"Thanks," I said, shifting my weight. "Lucy had the vision. I just followed orders."

"Smart man," Sam chuckled, before disappearing into the living room where Marie was already commandeering conversation like it was an Olympic sport and she was in the running for gold.

I caught Lucy near the entrance again, her cheeks pink as she fielded compliments and questions about the house. She looked happy, though slightly flustered. I wanted to go to her, smooth the tension from her shoulders, but there wasn’t time. Someone else needed my attention—a quick question about the hinges on the front door, another comment about the oak staircase. It was endless.

"Marcus, can we get a tour?" Mrs. Henderson called from the foyer, holding a glass of punch. Her husband stood behind her, looking as enthused about home renovations as a cat in a rainstorm.

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