Page 112 of Napkins and Other Distractions
“It’s perfect,” Vincent says with a wink. His eyelashes flit and my heart trips.
“Now, the LEGO book!” Lia scoots over and snuggles into Vincent. She keeps her hands on his sweatshirt, and he appears fine with her so close as he reads about the LEGO princess rescuing her animal friends from the evil LEGO witch.
“That was a good book. LEGO and a princess.” She stares up at him. “It’s like they wrote that book for us.”
Lia bats her eyelashes, and Vincent smiles. She is beyond smitten with him, and watching her weasel her way into his heart warms mine.
“Now, sweetie,” I say. “I was thinking I could take you for a hamburger and ice cream for lunch and leave Vincent to work on his new LEGO build.”
“What is it?” Lia’s over at the table, hands behind her back, investigating.
“It’s a big city,” he says, joining her.
“But you built Paris.”
“Yes, this is London.”
“Oh … ” Lia’s eyes bulge at Big Ben, already soaring toward the ceiling.
“But what happened to Paris?”
“I took it apart. Most of these pieces,” Vincent picks up a bowl full of tan bricks, “are from Paris.”
“So you recycled it?”
“Yeah, I guess you could say that.”
“Lia, let’s give Vincent some time alone. We’ll be back later, and you can see what he’s done.”
“But I want to help.”
Vincent has come a long way since the first time he showed me Paris, but allowing my five-year-old granddaughter to help him build the sweeping London skyline might push things too far.
“Do you know how you could help me?” Vincent kneels, making eye contact.
“How?”
“On construction sites, there’s someone called a foreperson. They don’t do any of the building, but they sit and watch and make sure everything goes smoothly.” He pulls out a chair, scooting it away from the table and turning it toward the table. “Would you like to be my foreperson?”
“Yes!” She plops down, and I fetch a notebook and some crayons for her.
“Why don’t you draw what you see?” I suggest. “It might help Vincent see it from your perspective.”
“Oh, smart.” She adds, “He might need my drawing to help.”
“I’ll make us some sandwiches,” I say.
“No. We need hamburgers and ice cream,” Lia says. “Vincent and I are okay if you go get them.”
Laughter pours out of me because she truly is precious. I catch Vincent’s gaze, and he nods.
“Yes, we’ll be fine. I’ve got my foreperson to supervise me.”
Lia smiles, nods, and starts drawing. Comfortable Vincent can handle her in this state, I grab my keys and head out to pick up lunch.
When I return, Vincent and Lia are exactly how I left them. He’s added to the Tower Bridge, and she’s now coloring the sketch she drew.
“Who’s hungry?” I shout from the kitchen island.
