Page 71 of The Deadbeat Next Door

She tilted her head, skeptical. “What?”

I shook my head. “You know what, never mind. You probably can’t count.”

She frowned and stuck her hands on her hips. “I can so count. I can count to two hundred.”

I pretended to doubt her. “Are you sure? This job is really important. I need a really excellent counter.”

She straightened, her shoulders back. I even had Simon’s reluctant attention. “I am a really excellent counter. One, two, three, four—”

“Hmm. That’s impressive. Maybe you can help me.”

“What do I need to do?”

“I’m taking a survey of which flavor of ice cream people buy more of. Can you pay attention to what people order and keep a count of the flavors?”

“Why?” She was back to looking skeptical.

I hadn’t been prepared for so much doubt, so I had to think fast. “I’m planning on starting a business of my own and I need to know what kind of ice cream flavors to serve.” I hadn’t considered serving ice cream at my winery, but I wasn’t against it, so I figured I wasn’t really lying.

She grinned. “Okay. I’ll do it.”

She moved to stand right next to me and stood stock still while she listened to the orders of the people in line ahead of us and kept count on her fingers.

“Ten chocolate, five strawberry, and three vanilla,” she said when it was our turn to order.

“Really?” I said. “That’s very helpful. I didn’t think chocolate would be the favorite.”

Simon rolled his eyes, but kept his opinion to himself, and I ordered all of us waffle cones with two scoops. I realized my mistake when I handed the cone to Jenny and it was as big as her head. She carried it as though she was carrying a rare and expensive treasure. We found a table in a warm spot of sunlight.

Jenny made it a third of the way through her dessert, her face, hair and clothes covered in ice cream, before she tipped the cone the wrong way and lost the rest of her treat. As soon as the chocolate hit the pavement, she began to shriek like someone was beating her with a cattle prod.

Simon, helpfully, rolled his eyes and kept eating. “It’s okay, Jenny,” I said in my most soothing tone. “I’ll get you another one.”

Her tears instantly stopped and I got back in line to get her a bowl of ice cream that she could rest on the table and would be less likely to drop. She grumbled a bit about the absence of a second cone, but she ate it.

By the time she’d finished her ice cream, Simon was grumbling about being bored and harassing her to hurry up, which only seemed to encourage her to eat more slowly. I wasn’t used to refereeing arguing kids before I’d had my coffee, and I was getting a touch grumpy myself. I reined in my annoyance, pulled up a game on my phone for Simon to play and tried to enjoy a moment of peace while Jenny ate and babbled about her friends and her toys and what she was going to do with the rest of her day.

Jenny, high on sugar, ran all the way back to the house. Kayla ran out as soon as we stepped onto the sidewalk. “Where were you?” she asked. She scooped Jenny up in her arms and glared at me.

“We went for a walk,” Jenny said. “Mr. Cody carried me all the way on his back. He bought us some books and stuff and he got us ice cream.”

Carrie walked out and placed a hand on Kayla’s back. “They’re okay, Kayla.” She turned to me. “Maybe just let us know where you’re going next time?”

Shit. I’d never been responsible for little people before. It hadn’t occurred to me that anyone would worry. I patted my pocket to check for my phone, but it wasn’t there. I must have left it on the dining room table. “I’m sorry, Kayla,” I said. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

“It’s okay,” Kayla said, sniffling. “I’m just…I can’t lose anyone else right now.”

I felt like punching myself for making Kayla cry. I handed her the bag of stuff I’d gotten for them all. “Why don’t I run out and buy a booster seat for Jenny and then we can all go to your house and get whatever stuff you want to have with you for now?”

“That would be wonderful,” Carrie said. She started back toward the house. “Let me just get my wallet and I’ll—”

“No. We’ll settle up later.” I had no intention of letting her pay, but that was a fight we didn’t need to have in front of the kids.

I drove to three different stores and talked to six different sales people before I found a booster seat that was suitable. I picked up a pizza on the way home, because it was after six.

The kids cheered when I walked in with a pizza in one hand and a booster seat in the other. Carrie had already set the table and there was a bowl of some sort of yellow pasta in the center of the table.

“They don’t like my cooking,” she said, with an adorable pouty frown.

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