Total pages in book: 73
Estimated words: 67398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 67398 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 337(@200wpm)___ 270(@250wpm)___ 225(@300wpm)
“Always do it smart. Not scared.”
“Good kid.” A dash of his usual fondness returned to his tone. “And your fellow has excellent taste in cookies. Just saying, if you’re done with him, tell him the next bakery box can come right here.”
“Grandpa.”
“I tease. I tease. And now, I nap.” He slumped down in the chair, effectively dismissing me. “You think more about taking that pie with you.”
“I will,” I lied as I stood, the weight on my shoulders now twice as heavy. I’d never known Grandpa’s struggles with his mental health had played such a role in him starting the Silver Surfer. And the whole world could learn from his generous spirit. I wanted to follow his example, but I wasn’t sure I could risk my fragile heart on this particular wave.
Twenty-Seven
It’s a new week, ohana! And that means a fresh set of requests. With the rainy weather, more parents have been utilizing our car drop-off lines. Let’s keep all hugs and last-minute reminders as brief as possible to keep the line moving! We want all our students in their seats and ready to learn on time.
NOLAN
When I impulsively agreed to stay on at the school, I figured Merry’s resistance would be measured in hours. Then, okay, yeah, apparently, he needed days. But now we were into double-digit days of his hold-out. One week had turned into two. We weren’t fighting per se. But we also weren’t dating. He was wasting precious time, and my irritation was reaching epic levels even coffee couldn’t touch.
“Ready for another day of teaching?” Craig asked as I helped myself to a second cup of coffee in his kitchen. He was still enjoying some lighter duty days and regular hours coming off his deployment, so he’d been around the house more, making me feel like a third wheel. I was struggling to make myself useful, so I’d arrived with donuts before walking to school with the girls.
“Yeah.” I took a long, bracing sip of heavily-sweetened coffee. “I guess so.”
“Why the long face?” Holding the baby in the crook of his arm, he leaned against the kitchen island. “The girls say you’re one of the most popular teachers at the school. You’ve got to be loving that.”
“Huh.” I guessed it was nice that the girls didn’t have a bad report of me as a teacher, but being popular wasn’t the same as being good at something, as I well knew. And I wasn’t crazy about Craig implying I strove for popularity or validation, even if it was true. But my brother was trying. He didn’t deserve me snapping at him, so I went with the truth. “Boy problems.”
“Ah…uh…not my level of expertise.” Craig swallowed hard and pushed the donut box closer to me, jostling the baby in the process. “But I could try to listen. Or fetch Cara.”
“It’s okay.” I offered him my best fake smile as the baby started fussing again. He’d recently been fed and changed and was fighting the need to nap. I commiserated.
“We might need Cara anyway…” Craig peered down uncertainly at the baby. He’d always been one of those dads who was awesome with slightly older kids. Since returning, he’d been very involved with both girls while remaining slightly clueless with the baby.
“Here, let me.” I plucked the baby from his arms, transferred him to my shoulder, and started humming the baby’s favorite golden-era musical number while marching around the kitchen to help convince the overtired baby to sleep.
“Oh. Look at you marching.” Craig let out a brief whistle. “We could have made a soldier of you, after all.”
“So sorry to disappoint,” I said curtly, continuing to march but with much less gusto now.
“What? No.” Craig leaned forward, eyes uncertain. “Nolan, you don’t think I seriously wanted you to follow me to West Point, do you?”
I shrugged, which made the baby hiccup.
“If ever there was someone less suited for military life, it’s you. I was only joking.”
“I know.” My voice was flat. “I wouldn’t have made a soldier, but you’ve always been firmly on team Nolan Needs a Real Job.”
“Mom and Dad’s tired old argument?” He shook his head, expression seemingly genuinely perplexed. “You have a job.”
“Here, yeah.” I rolled my eyes as the baby finally gave an exhausted huff and closed his eyes. Same, kid. Same.
“No, you have a…what do they call it?” Craig frowned. Vocabulary had always been my strong suit, not his. “A calling? Passion? Avocation? That’s it. The sort of thing where you’re that identity no matter what else you do. You’ve been a performer since you were younger than Stella. You’ll be a performer at ninety. That you’ve found work teaching is awesome, but don’t discount your theater life. I tell people about my brother the actor all the time.”
“You do?” I wasn’t sure I could be more shocked if Craig had started to fly Peter Pan-style around the kitchen or launched into a stirring musical number.