He used a small hand broom to clean up his minimal amount of sawdust and then looked at Gabe expectantly.
His phone rang while the two of them were putting together sandwiches.
“Gabe? This is Ciara. I’m just checking to be sure Mark is still with you.”
“Yes, we’re having lunch right now. I’ll send him home as soon as he’s eaten.”
“You didn’t have to feed him.”
“I won’t make it a habit,” he said, thinking that he liked her voice, which had a lilt to it. It made him think of the creek out back, when the water rippled over rocks.
“All right.” Suddenly, she sounded awkward. “Um, just let me know if—”
“If?” he prompted after she fell silent.
“If he’s bugging you.”
He didn’t say, “Pretty sure that’ll happen soon. Any minute, in fact.” He had a bad feeling his patience today had created a monster. He settled for “I’ll do that” and ended the call, thoughtful.
Parents said that kind of thing all the time. He was sure his own mother had. But Ciara sounded more...resigned than he’d expected. Because she knew her son was a little unusual?
Mark chattered unaffectedly all through the meal. He wanted to know when he could start his box.
“After you learn some basic skills.”
“Can I ride one of the horses?”
“Maybe.”
“When?”
“Someday.”
“Can I today?”
“No. I have to work.”
Thanks to his mother, he did seem to understand that adults had to apply themselves to their jobs. But when Gabe asked what his mother did for a living, he was vague.
“She used to work at a doctor’s office. You know. She made appointments and stuff.”
“What about now?” Gabe didn’t even know why he was curious, but he was.
“She sews.” His forehead crinkled. “Sometimes people send her something and she uses it to sew, like, I don’t know, a pillow or something. It’s boring,” he concluded.
Gabe laughed, raised his eyebrows at the boy’s empty plate and said, “Time for you to go home now.”
“You don’t have cookies or anything?”
“Afraid not.” Desserts for Gabe were store-bought, and therefore rarely worth the bother. Sometimes he thought nostalgically about his mother’s home-baked cookies, but not often.
“Can I come again tomorrow?” Mark asked eagerly.
Precedents, Gabe reminded himself. “Depends how involved I get. Check with me tomorrow.”
“You mean, I have to call every time?”
“Unless we’ve made arrangements in advance.”
“Like, today you say I can come tomorrow.”
“Right. But I’m not saying that today.”
“Oh.” His shoulders sagged a little, but he let Gabe steer him toward the door without further protest.
Nonetheless, it seemed like forever before Mark finally got on his bike and pedaled back down the driveway.
Gabe shook his head and made his way to the barn.
His generosity today was going to bite him in the ass. He knew it. As he set up to get back to working, he practiced nice ways of saying no.
“CAN’T YOU TAKE a break yet?” Ciara’s son asked from where he stood in the doorway.
Oh, why not? She reached the end of the seam, lifted her foot from the sewing machine pedal and turned with a smile. “What’s up?”
“Gabe says I can’t come today.”
His despondency was all too familiar, as was the starburst of frustration and hurt for him that filled her chest. He had come home so excited yesterday, so...proud, as if he’d done something right. And now—
She wanted, quite fiercely, to detest Gabe Tennert, but in fairness couldn’t. He’d been nice. That didn’t mean he was obligated to become her son’s best buddy.
“I’m sorry, honey,” she said gently. “He’s a busy man.”
Mark’s expression brightened. “But he says I can come tomorrow. That I don’t have to call or anything. He said ten-thirty. We made an appointment.” He savored the concept. “Maybe he’ll let me have lunch with him again.”
“Really?” Ciara hoped he hadn’t noticed how amazed she sounded.
“Yeah. So what I was wondering is... You promised we could get a dog. So can we go today? Please, Mom?”
Oh, Lord. She was never going to get anything done.
“Why don’t we wait for the weekend?” she suggested in an automatic delaying tactic.
He looked at her as if she had a screw loose. “But tomorrow is Saturday, and that is weekend. And I’m already going to Gabe’s.” He paused in apparent pleasure at the idea and then continued. “And they might not be open on Sunday.”
She supposed that was a distinct possibility. Ciara had done some research on animal shelters and rescue groups after she’d bought this house, and decided the Spokane Humane Society would offer the largest selection of dogs and puppies to choose from. Plus, she and Mark could be pretty sure they’d be saving an animal from euthanasia, although she didn’t plan to mention that to Mark if it hadn’t already occurred to him.
“I can check online—”
“But why not today?”
She leveled a look at him. Her tolerance for whining was low. The hope in his eyes was her undoing, though.
“Oh, what the heck.” She smiled. “Today it is.”
“Yeah, Mom!” He jumped, spun in what might have been intended to be a sort of breakdance, crashed into the door frame and almost fell down. “Ouch!”
Laughing, Ciara swept him into a quick hug, about all he’d tolerate in the way of physical affection, and said, “Let me change shirts, at least. We’ll have lunch while we’re out.”
“And we have to get dog food and stuff, too.”
“Right.”
