Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 138881 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 694(@200wpm)___ 556(@250wpm)___ 463(@300wpm)
I arch a brow. “Are you sure?”
She gives me a look like she’s offended I’d even ask. “Dad, I’m twelve. I can stay home alone. And if there are any problems, I can call…” She trails off and I expect her to say she’d call her mom, but Charlotte smiles impishly. “Mabel. She connected us with Mrs. Henderson. She’d be the one to help.”
I can’t argue with the logic there, but still, I need to poke fun at her too. “Are you saying you’d rather take care of the foster dogs than come to my hockey game?”
She pats my arm. “You’re cute, Dad. And hockey’s fine, but taking care of foster dogs will help me become a veterinarian. Did you know there’s a shortage of vets?”
“I didn’t know that,” I say. “Why?”
“It costs a lot to get an education to become one, and it’s a high-stress job. But that’s why I’m learning everything I can about it now,” she says. “So I’m ready when it’s time.”
I ruffle her hair. “Proud of you, kid.”
I go quiet though. My daughter doesn’t have to worry about the cost of education but others do. I mull on that disparity, and the high cost that could be a deterrent for others, until Charlotte breaks my thoughts as she says, “And then we leave for New York. You have a hockey game there, and that’s where we’ll spend Christmas.”
Charlotte and I always have fun during the holidays, especially in New York since my cousins and my stepdad, Ray, who Charlotte adores, live there. So do Charlotte’s cousins on Sarah’s side.
But what will Mabel be doing? Will she miss me when I’m gone?
I know I’ll miss her.
But since she likes gifts, I stop Charlotte with a hand on her arm. “Hey, can you help me pick a sweater?”
“Of course.”
My kid spins around and marches right back to the store as if an invisible thread is leading her there. She stops at the window display that includes a llama sweater.
“I presume this is for Mabel,” she says.
The straightforwardness of the statement throws me off for a second, but only a second. “Yes. How did you—”
But I don’t finish the question. It’s clear how she knows. I’m obvious.
“I saw the llama sweater too, and I filed it away as a gift for her,” she says, tapping her temple. “But you should give it to her.”
“You were going to give it to her?”
“Of course,” she says. “She’s a big part of our life.”
I freeze. Is Charlotte getting attached to Mabel? If I pursue something with Mabel eventually and it doesn’t work out, will Charlotte get hurt? I hadn’t thought about that issue, but I really should. It’s a whole new what if.
Except, fuck that.
It’s ten steps down the road, and I’ve raised my daughter to handle life when shit goes wrong. Charlotte’s a strong person. I’m not going to let my kid be an issue.
Besides, if I want Mabel to want more than an arrangement, I need to show her why I’m worth breaking the rules for.
Operation Win My Business Partner’s Heart begins today.
“Let’s give it to her together,” I say.
“Works for me.”
We go inside and find more sweaters with animal illustrations on them. “Which color do you think will look best on her?”
Charlotte picks one, then holds it up. “It’s a very pretty sky blue that’ll look great with her big brown eyes.”
I smother a smile. But whether it’s from the description of Mabel’s eyes, or the fact my daughter’s wanting to give her a gift, I don’t know.
Either way, I like it.
When we head into Afternoon Delight, there’s a beautiful sight. A long line at the counter. Aisha’s here, helping out and taking orders, and damn, this is good to see. A busy bakery, with customers scooping up Christmas sweets, dog cookies, and other treats. I hate to say it, but Thanks, Ronnie.
“Want some help?” I ask as I head behind the counter, the gift in hand.
“Yes, grab the boxes of iced snowwomen in the kitchen, the trees, and the Christmas unicorn cookies,” Mabel says, all business as she points like a gate agent directing traffic at the airport.
“Christmas unicorns? I want one,” Charlotte says as she grabs her apron from a hook.
“She likes unicorns,” I add as I head into the kitchen and set down the sweater for later.
“Dad, everyone likes unicorns,” Charlotte calls out.
“I like unicorns,” Aisha chimes in as I return with the boxes of cookies and my apron.
Mabel gives a nod as she rings up some smash cakes, then points to the counter and the customer who ordered the cookies. I hand over the goods.
“Everyone likes unicorns,” Mabel says to the line of customers. “Am I right?”
And the answer is a resounding yes.
The day is long, longer than a day with travel and practice and a game it seems. After we close, Aisha helps clean, then she heads out, leaving the three of us to finish.