“Yay!!”
I laugh and stand back up. “Really, it’ll be fun,” I tell Carson.
He shrugs. “Alright. If that’s what you both want.”
“It is,” Margo says matter-of-factly.
“I guess we’ll see you there when you can get away.”
I nod, waving them goodbye as he takes her hand and leads her out to the truck.
I spin around and rush to the kitchen where Jane is preparing to bring out another tray of donuts.
“Jane, I have to go,” I tell her, rushing to get my purse.
“What? Why?” she asks, pausing and setting the tray down.
“Carson and Margo were just in here. I’m going to go to their place and babysit Margo for the day. Can you handle things around here?”
“Oh, yeah. Go.” She shoos me off.
I push the swinging door open, but she calls after me and I spin around to face her.
She smiles wide and seductively. “Go get him.”
I roll my eyes. “Ugh, seriously. You’re a child,” I say, but mentally, I’m in total agreement.
I climb behind the wheel of my car and decide to swing by my place to get on something more comfortable that isn’t covered in icing and flour. In my room, I change at least ten times. Everything I try on is all wrong. I want to look good for Carson, of course, but I also have to look casual. I end up settling on a pair of tight skinny jeans, my white converse, and faded gray T-shirt that has a Ford logo on it. It doesn’t slip by me that he drives a Ford truck. I let my hair down, and it falls down my back in long, dark waves from being tied up all day. Then I slap on a coat of mascara and some lip gloss. I add a little perfume and hit the door.
I’m pulling up in their drive thirty minutes later.
Margo comes running out of the garage. “Violet!” she yells as she throws her arms wide open. She runs into me, wrapping her arms tightly around my hips in a hug. Moments later, Carson is walking out with a smile of his own.
“Alright, Margo. Don’t crush her.” He comes to a stop directly in front of me.
“It’s fine,” I tell him. “She’s just excited. I’m sure she has all kinds of fun things to do today, huh?”
She nods but doesn’t pull away.
“Alright. I’ll probably be out here most of the day, but if you need anything, don’t hesitate to ask. And if you need to go, don’t worry about it. Just bring her out to me on the way.”
“Sounds good.” I nod. “Come on, Margo. Why don’t you show me all your toys?” I take her hand.
She pulls me to the front door and into the house, up the stairs, down the hall, and to the right where her bedroom is. It’s already pained in pink glitter. There are stick on cartoon characters on the walls, and the biggest bed I’ve ever seen for a child her age.
“What do you want to do first?” I ask.
“Tea party!” She rushes over to the little white table.
I sit on the tiny chair, praying that I don’t crush it with my weight.
“Don’t worry. Daddy sits there all the time. It won’t break,” she says, reading the expression on my face.
I laugh and she gets busy pouring the imaginary tea. The morning passes by quickly since we have a tea party, play Barbies, and give each other makeovers. We pause the playing for lunch where I make her a box of mac and cheese. She eats and crashes out on the couch soon after.
I decide to make Carson something since he hasn’t been in the house all day. I throw together a quick sandwich, slice it in half, then add some carrot sticks to the plate. I grab the baby monitor to listen for Margo while I’m in the garage.
I walk out, and he’s hard at work, sanding some wood, even though I’m not exactly sure what for. When he sees me, he shuts off the sander.
“I made you some lunch,” I say, walking deeper into the garage.
“Oh, thanks. You didn’t have to do that.”
I set the plate down on the table. “It was nothing. I made Margo some mac and cheese, and she crashed. Figured you had to be getting hungry since you haven’t been inside all day.”
He sits down on the stool beside the table. “I would’ve been fine, but I appreciate it. Take half?” He holds the plate out.
I wave him off. “I’m fine.”
“I insist.”
I smile. “Okay.” I reach out and take half the sandwich.
He takes a bite. “Mmm, this is good,” he says around his chewing. “Why does this taste so good?”
I look down to see tomato, lettuce, fresh cheese, and meats. “My trick is to mix mayo with spicy mustard, then just a touch of salt and pepper.” I take a bite and chew it slowly.
“I never thought of that. Usually, I’m not big on mayo.” But as fast as he eats the sandwich, I’d say he likes it.
I laugh. “I’m not either, but there isn’t much. Just enough to make the mustard a little fluffier.”
He finishes his half and moves onto the carrot sticks. “Margo really likes you. Thanks for being so kind to her.”
“Of course. She’s so sweet. I’ve always wanted a little girl of my own, so this is a nice substitute.”
“She really needs some attention from a woman. It’s usually just her and me.”
“Where’s her mom? If you don’t mind me asking.”
He takes a deep breath. “Her mother, my wife, passed away when she was two in a car crash.”
I gasp. “I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”
“No, it’s fine. I mean, it’s only a matter of time before everyone knows in a town this small, right?” He gives me a crooked grin, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
I offer a sad smile and nod.
“Margo doesn’t remember her much. She was so young. But she remembers some things and I tell her a ton, my way of trying to keep her memory alive, I guess.”
“That’s good of you to do. I noticed the photo on the mantel. Was that her?”
He nods. “Yeah, that was her.”
“She was beautiful.”
“She was,” he agrees softly, sadness drenching his words.
“Well, I should probably get back inside. If there’s anything you need, don’t be afraid to ask,” I tell him, meaning every word of it.
He nods, but I can see the sadness that’s settled over him now. He doesn’t respond as I make my way out of the garage and back into the house. Margo is still sound asleep on the couch, so I move over to the mantel to look at that picture a little more closely.
The woman in the photo has shoulder-length blond hair, styled in soft wavy curls. Her eyes are blue, bright and shimmering, and she’s wearing a wide smile. She really is beautiful, and she looks so happy with a baby Margo on her lap and Carson at her side.
I take a deep breath and head back into the kitchen to clean up from our lunch mess.
The rest of the day passes quickly. Margo wakes up, and we end up playing more dress up, watching TV, and having a snack. Around six, I decide to take dinner into my own hands, and she volunteers to help. After searching through the fridge and cabinets, I find the ingredients I need to make a pot of spaghetti and some frozen garlic bread. I’m not much on jar sauce, but I don’t have enough fresh tomatoes to make it from scratch, so I do a half and half mix, using the jar stuff but adding my own ingredients to make it taste a little more homemade.