Page 9 of The Beach Hut on Plum Island
“And you’re not much different, little missy,” Tucker reminded her, tickling her as she squealed at him, slapping away his fingers. “At least I don’t fall asleep in buses.”
“Oh, yeah!” Maggie snorted. “I forgot about that.”
“Luckily, I caught you before you slid right off the seat after you’d dozed off,” Tucker said.
“That was on one of those red buses in London,” Maggie said and turned toward Finn, who was taking the freshly made burger patties from the oven. “You hit your head on that silver pole trying to get to me.”
“That’s right.” Tucker laughed. “You had a horn on your head like a cartoon character.”
“All I saw was my baby girl collapsing like she’d fainted and then slid off the chair like water,” Finn reminisced. “My instincts kicked in and shot off my chair to grab her, not seeing the pole.”
“You nearly conked yourself right out,” Tucker said. “I thought I was going to have to catch two of my family members.”
“You know, Tuck,” Maggie looked at him and sipped her juice, “as big brothers go, I think I hit the jackpot with you. You always have my back.”
“Of course. You’re my little sister.” Tucker ruffled her hair. “I’ll always have your back. So your future partners better beware because I’ll be keeping a close eye on them.”
“I’m going to be a scientist,” Maggie reminded him. “I won’t have time for all that mushy stuff that creates hormonal imbalances in a person and makes them do crazy things.”
“You’re young,” Tucker told her. “You’ll change your mind in about five to six years.”
“No, I won’t!” Maggie said stubbornly. “I’m not going to be like you, all moony and googly-eyed over Shay Blackwell.”
Finn smiled and his heart swelled watching his kids. He was so proud of them, and after everything they’d been through with Finn and their mother, they still turned out to be great kids. Kids who stuck together. Even when they fought like cats and dogs, they always banded together.
“Shay Blackwell?” Finn pulled an impressed face. “She’s beautiful and intelligent.”
“I like people with brains,” Tucker told him. “There’s nothing worse than trying to have a decent conversation with someone who can’t even spell their name.”
“Can you spell your name?” Maggie gave her brother a smug smile.
“Don’t be a brat.” Tucker tugged on one of her thick dark brown pigtails.
“Don’t touch the hair!” Maggie waggled her index finger at him.
“See, you’re already becoming a girly girl,” Tucker teased.
“I’ve always been a girly girl,” Maggie pointed out proudly. “I can be a girly girl, like pretty things, and still be a scientist. Just because I’m brainy doesn’t mean I don’t like pretty girly things too.”
“What eleven-year-old wants to become a scientist?” Tucker rolled his eyes as he looked questioningly at his father.
Finn shrugged as he pulled the large portobello mushrooms from the grill, stacked a hot burger patty from the warmerdrawer on them, and sprinkled grated cheese over the top. He dished up two burgers for his kids and one for him.
“Lunch is served,” Finn said, placing a plate in front of each of them before collecting the salad, some condiments, cutlery, glasses, juice, and fresh water. “There, I think that’s everything.”
“Dad, where are the oven fries?” Maggie asked, looking at her plate.
“Oh, shoot,” Finn said, jumping off his chair and rushing to the second oven. “How could I forget the fries?”
“Are they real fries or those orange potato things?” Tucker shuddered.
“I like the sweet potato fries,” Maggie told Tucker.
“Just goes to show how weird you are,” Tucker teased. “Eleven-year-olds want to be ballerinas and eat real fries made from potatoes.”
“You can’t stereotype people,” Maggie told him, digging into the potato fries Finn had put in front of them. “Thanks, Dad. This lunch looks delicious.”
“Thank you, my princess,” Finn said, taking a bow. “It’s always a pleasure to serve my favorite princess.”
