Page 15 of Second Start: Family
As he closed the pocketknife to take over, she saw a short slice of red on his ring finger.
“You cut yourself.”
“Barely a scratch.” He knotted the cloth. “That’ll hold long enough to—”
“Miss Kenzie, Daddy, it’s time for supper now.”
CHAPTER FOUR
“You sit at the table. You, too, Daddy. We’re taking care of everything.”
They had spread an old quilt over a table set on one side of a kitchen that opened into a living area.
A toy chest beside the fireplace didn’t quite close. The books pulled into a rough stack on the coffee table revealed their former locations from rectangles in the dust. A large black sock clung to the kick-pleat of the aging sofa.
In the center of the dining table, the girls had spread yellow leaves around two stocky off-white candles as their centerpiece. Six plates, each with knife, fork, and spoon in the center of it, along with a sprig of yellow and fading leaves, sat in front of one of the chairs. Except one plate, where the leaves were drab brown.
“No, don’t sit there,” Lizzie said as Kenzie started to take that spot. “That’s where Dan sits. You sit here, between Molly and me.”
“We learned about festive tables at Christmas from Bexley and Pauline,” Molly said proudly.
“It didn’t look exactly like this, though.” Lizzie’s frown cleared. “Must be because it’s not Christmas now.”
“No, it’s not,” Kenzie agreed. “Are Bexley and Pauline relatives of yours?”
“Oh, no. There was a blizzard and we were all together for Christmas, with Eric and Kiernan and Gramps, too, and we had thebesttime. Except Daddy wasn’t there. But they couldn’t do anything about that when he had to get those cattle to market. And we made decorations and sang and—”
They chattered on about being snowbound over the holiday at their grandfather’s small store well north of here with four other stranded strangers. Or was Gramps the owner’s name and he was a stranger, too?
But they were very clear on Bexley and Kiernan being engaged now and that Eric was a lawyer, while it was a little less clear if Pauline was his assistant or ran his life.
“While you do that, how about if I fill the glasses,” Hall said.
They accepted that help without much attention, Lizzie busy stirring something in a bowl and Molly focusing on loading and unloading the microwave.
“Water? Milk?” Hall added to Kenzie, “I might have a beer somewhere.”
“Water would be great.”
As he returned with two waters, she saw why he’d usurped that duty.
The quilt had raised stitching that made placement of the glasses hazardous.
She shifted her plate to one side to give him a flat surface, then did the same with each of the girls’ plates when he brought their milks. He acknowledged her cooperation with a lift of one brow. He did the same at Dan’s place. At Bobby’s, he set the barely half-filled glass on a small plate.
Lizzie abruptly shouted, “Dan, Bobby, supper’s ready.”
Hall said quickly, “I’ll go get them. You and Molly have enough to do.”
Lizzie nodded solemnly.
He headed up the stairs, returning in a minute carrying a toddler boy with an arm comfortably slung around his father’s neck and the young teenager Kenzie recognized as Vicky’s student, Dan.
“Bobby, this is Ms. Smith.”
“Miss Kenzie,” Molly called.
“Hi, Ken-see,” the boy said.
