Page 35 of The Single Dad's Guide to Recreation

My jaw drops. “How the hell do you know all that?”

He holds up a hand. “Don’t worry, I do my best to use my powers for good, not evil.”

“But how?”

“I’ve met your mom.”

“You have?”

“Yeah. She’s a regular in one of my weight training classes. Those ladies like to chat. I just listen. That shit gets stored away in the little folders of my brain like squirrels storing acorns for winter.” He shrugs. “I don’t do it on purpose. It just happens.”

As we finish loading up the shed, we discuss potential improvements, starting with finding him a flatter soccer field. But as we head back to our cars, I have to ask, “Any advice for a fellow single dad?”

He looks over at me. “What’s the sitch with the kids’ mom? You share custody?”

“She’s not, um… she’s deceased.”

His face falls, and he reaches out to squeeze my shoulder briefly. “Sorry for your loss, man. That I didn’t know.”

“But now you do,” I point out.

He nods solemnly. “I promise not to abuse the privilege.”

“So… advice?”

He continues to nod, and his gait slows, like he’s considering his words. “Leia and I share custody fifty-fifty, and we’re friends. So I know we’ve got each other’s backs when it comes to the kids. Now, we’re not always on the same page about everything, so that does add a wrinkle every once in a while.”

He stops to face me, hands on hips. “My best piece of advice? Don’t hold the reins too tight. Let other people help. That ‘it takes a village’ thing? It’s for real. And we’ve got a pretty nice village here.”

“I guess you would know.”

“Damn straight I would.”

With the current incubator class ramping things up at Trede for the month of September, everyone except my small team is focused on shepherding the CEOs-to-be through the workshops and coaching sessions designed to prepare them for pitch sessions with venture capital groups at the end of their term. Meanwhile, I’ve got my own projects to attend to. I’ve never had anything to do with site restoration, so it’s been a steep learning curve overseeing the final changes to the Trede campus. Nurturing contacts in the business community takes time, but attending events like Rotary breakfasts and the Art Co-op’s monthly Open Gallery night, makes me feel like I belong here.

It’s the Parks and Rec re-org that’s keeping me up at night. It’s not just the fact that I want to find room in the budget to keep Playgroup around. There are just so many moving parts, from figuring out how to plan a renovation that won’t interfere with class schedules to getting Wanda new accounting software and then getting it installed. The latter isn’t part of my job description, but I quickly learned that when Wanda wants something, she gets it.

Which is why I’m in her office at the end of the workday instead of my own.

“I don’t know what it is, Wanda, but there’s something different about you today,” Travis says from the office manager’s doorway. Looking over my shoulder, I realize that it’s nearly dark.

“Wanda had to pick up her grandkids, so I said I’d wait around until this new program loaded.” The computer dings and I click around to make sure everything looks okay. “Which it looks like it finally has. Good thing, because I need to pick up my kids. My parents have a date night planned.”

“I know,” Travis says. “Frieda told us about it this morning. You and your kids want to come for dinner tonight? It’s just crockpot spaghetti and meatballs.”

“With your kids? Aren’t they, like, teenagers?”

Travis shrugs. “They’re fourteen, so they might ignore your little ones, but they don’t bite. We do have a dog, though.”

“Mabel would love that.”

“So come on, then. I’m heading over there now.”

Another good thing about small towns: it only takes ten minutes to get anywhere. Even after swinging by Sweet Rewards bakery to grab a box of cupcakes, I make it home in time to corral Mabel and Percy into my car before my parents have to leave. Both kids are very excited to meet two teenagers and their dog, and thankfully, the Blake teens are kind enough to play Go Fish with the little ones while Travis and I get dinner on the table.

We’ve just settled down to eat when the front door opens. “Hey, Travis, it’s me, I’m just—oh, hi, guys!”

Avery takes in the six of us crowded around the table, looking as delighted as she is confused to see us all together.

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