Page 176 of The Nanny and the Hothead
Yeah, he was that sappyI-love-you-manguy now.
Blame it on his new perspective. He cared about people and wasn’t afraid to show it. He’d pegged that part of him as a weakness. He was wrong—dead wrong. Turns out, compassion was his greatest strength.
“Tell Charlotte to break a leg or whatever they say for good luck in the art world,” Seth added.
Mitch hung his chef coat on the hook, then glanced around the kitchen, knowing it was in good hands. “Will do,” he answered, then headed to the back door.
It was mid-June in Denver. That could mean anything from scorching heat to a late freeze. But the weather gods had blessed the city with mild temperatures. A spring rain had rolled through, and the fragrant geraniums in the hanging flower baskets mingled with the clean scent of the storm. He headed toward the gallery when his phone pinged. He slipped his cell from his pocket, and joy flooded his system when he saw the screen.
A video call from Oscar Elliott.
He accepted the call.
“Hi, Dad,” Oscar chimed.
“Hey, Oscar!”
“Hi, Mitch!” Phoebe exclaimed, entering the frame.
“Hey, Phoebe! What’s going on, kids?”
He had a feeling he knew.
“I have a cookie question,” Phoebe began.
He bit back a grin. “Oh yeah? What kind of cookie question?”
Between the foot tapping and their propensity to inhale chocolate, Phoebe and Oscar were the best of friends.
“Do oatmeal chocolate chip cookies count as cookies?” the little girl pressed, then peered over her shoulder at something out of the frame.
“Rowen and Penny said we could have two cookies each. That’s Phoebe’s no-puking limit. But we were thinking because they’re oatmeal, they’re more like breakfast,” Oscar explained.
Yep, these two were at it again.
He chuckled. “Oatmeal chocolate chip cookies are still cookies.”
“Oscar, let me talk to your dad,” Rowen said as Oscar turned the camera, and the man came into the frame. The guy’s glasses were crooked, and he looked six stops past exasperated. “I’ve been trying to explain this to them for the last hour.”
Mitch worked to keep it together. “Where’s Penny?”
Rowen groaned. “She’s writing. I’m holding down the fort.”
Mitch glanced up from the screen and crossed the street. “Hang in there, man. And thanks for having Oscar over.”
“Have you seen Charlotte yet? Did you give her the present?” Oscar chimed, edging Rowen out as his son returned to the frame.
“I’m working on it. I’m headed to see her now.” He held out the phone and panned left and right for Oscar to see the twinkling lights of the downtown Crystal Creek business district.
“Do you think Charlotte would let us have three cookies each?” Phoebe asked as Rowen ran his hands down his face in the background.
“No, sorry, Phoebe. I’m certain Charlotte would agree with the two-cookie policy,” he answered.
“What about oatmeal raisin cookies? Those have to be a breakfast food!” Phoebe exclaimed as Rowen took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose.
“Come on, Phoebe! Let’s go play dominoes in your room. Bye, Dad! Love you. Tell Charlotte I love her,” Oscar added, flashing a toothy grin.
“I will,” he answered as the video call ended. He had one great kid. And he owed Holly a debt of gratitude for the love she showered upon the boy. She put every good part of her into Oscar, and for that, he’d be eternally grateful.
