Page 85 of The Dangers of Daydreaming

“Any change in your Pops?” she asked.

“You mean since two hours ago when you asked?”

She chuckled. “Yeah.”

I leaned back into my couch, holding the phone out. “No, nothing yet. But the doctors are still hopeful.”

She nodded.

“And you? Did you get to see your cousins yet?”

“Sadie came by for a minute to drop something off, and I ran into Dani at the grocery store, of all places, but we’re all supposed to get together next weekend for a going-away party for Chloe and Holt.”

“That’s the cousin following her boyfriend to North Carolina, right?”

“Correct. I should send you a family tree. They will be offended if you don’t remember who they are, what they do for work, and probably their favorite color when you meet them.”

I loved how she said it like that. Like it was a given—because to me, it was too.

“I’ll send you mine too. Gram would be offended if you forgot her name and occupation when you see her again.”

Her smile was wide. “Could you let me know her favorite color, too? And Pops’, of course.”

“Can do. Just give me a minute while I find it out myself.”

“Grandsons,” she scoffed. “What are you good for?”

“Manual labor, mostly.”

“I could do with some of that. My dishwasher broke the day I left for Canada, and I forgot until I got home. One of my neighbors offered to help me fix it, but then what do I do? Pay him? Make him a casserole? I don’t know the protocol here.”

“I’ll hire someone and send him over. Text me the address.”

Her eyes went wide. “I didn’t mean that, I can figure it out.”

“No, please, let me help.” Because there was no way I was letting her cook for another guy, even if he was in his seventies, and I currently had my fingers crossed that this neighbor was old. Very old. I reined in the jealousy, just barely.

Not just jealousy over the neighbor—though there was a hefty amount of that, for sure—but jealousy over the guy’s proximity. What I wouldn’t give to have Lucy still staying at the inn.

Again, the idea popped into my head about moving.

But that was crazy.

“Why a casserole?” I asked, instead of voicing my thoughts. Seems a bit 1950’s, don’t you think?

“A good casserole is never out of fashion,” she said with a sniff. “Besides, I can’t bake. I burn even store bought cookie dough.”

“How did I not know this?”

“Is it a deal-breaker?”

I smiled. “Not at all. I make great cookies, you know. Gram taught me.”

“Perfect. I’m on dinner, you’re on dessert.”

Now we just needed to get back into the same zip code to make good on that.

“Oh, hey Finn, Avery is calling. She’s so busy lately, she never calls. I should probably see if something’s wrong.”

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