Don't Speak (A Modern Fairytale, #5)(88)

“Yes, you did,” she said. “Mr. Mopples says your name is Oscar because you are a grouch. Mr. Mopples is always right.”

“I’m a . . . grouch?”

She nodded matter-of-factly as she reached for her orange juice. “You don’t wave, you stare, and you yell. And when Kelsey asked if you wanted syrup or sugar, you a’nored her.”

“Ignored, not a’nored. I ignored her.”

“Yes, you did,” agreed Ava Grace, replacing her glass after a satisfied slurp. “And Mr. Mopples does not approve.”

“Who the hell is Mr. Mopples?”

“See? Now you sweared. Your name is definitely Oscar.”

He counted to three in his head, then asked as politely as possible, “Who is Mr. Mopples?”

With her palm open, she gestured delicately to the worn penguin sitting across from her on the table. “Her.”

“Him,” said Erik.

“No,” said Ava Grace. “Her.”

“But you said ‘Mr. Mopples.’”

She nodded at him.

“Mr. Mopples is a girl?”

She nodded again. “Do you know why?”

Suddenly, out of nowhere, he was reminded of something Hillary had always said when she was little and people asked why her stuffed elephant, Ella, was a boy.

“Because that’s the way it is,” he said matter-of-factly, surprised to feel his lips twitch just a touch, remembering his little sister’s sass and grateful that it remained intact.

But what happened next was the most surprising thing of all. The little redhead blinked at him, then gasped with delight, her face exploding into the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen, on any child, on any person, in all his living life, and she exclaimed, “Yes! You got it right!”

“Did I?” he asked, chuckling in spite of himself.

“Yes! And no one ever gets it right! Not even Uncle Patrick! Not even Mama!” She nodded at him, her grin still huge as she turned the penguin around to face Erik. “She is Mr. Mopples because that’s the way it is.”

“Well, Ava Grace,” he said, taking a sip of his coffee and feeling more satisfied with this little victory than he’d felt in a long, long time, “it was about time someone got it right.”





Chapter 19


Laire had finished most of her designs by noon and managed to forward them to Madame Scalzo by the time one o’clock rolled around and Kelsey knocked on her door to return Ava Grace.

“We had so much fun, Mama!” cried her daughter, racing into the room with snowy boots and leaving little puddles everywhere.

“Ava! Boots off!” She turned to Kelsey. “How’d you do?”

“She’s awesome,” said Kelsey. “We baked cookies and made snow angels.”

“I don’t suppose you could sit again tomorrow?”

“I could,” said Kelsey, “but mornin’s are tough. How about tomorrow evenin’? From five to ten or even later? I can stay up here with Ava Grace, and you can work downstairs in the salon?”

Laire nodded gratefully, taking her wallet off the nightstand and pulling out sixty-five dollars. “Is this good?”

“Great. Thanks.” Kelsey took the money and put it in her back pocket. “Did Grandpa say you needed a boat tomorrow, or did I hear wrong?”

“Not tomorrow,” said Laire. “Maybe next week, though, when school starts up for Ava Grace. At some point I want to head over to Corey.”

“Corey Island?” asked Kelsey. “Why the heck do you want to go all the way over there?”

Laire looked down at her bare feet for a moment before meeting the younger woman’s eyes. “I’m from Corey.”

“Nah!”

Laire nodded, unable to hold back her smile. “I am, I swear.”

“I thought for sure you were a dingbatter.”

“Nope. Islander. Born and bred.” Her smile faded. “Left about six years ago.”

“And lost your accent.” Kelsey flicked a glance to Ava Grace. “Story for another time?”

“And a big glass of wine.”

“So you’re goin’ home to see your folks?”

“Sort of. Maybe.” She shrugged, her shoulders brushing her ears and holding for a moment as she considered Kelsey’s question. “I left on . . . bad terms. I want to try to make things right before I move to New York this summer.”

“Wait! You’re movin’ to New York?!” asked Kelsey, putting her hands on her hips, her eyes sparkling and impressed. “Got room for one more? As a nanny maybe?”

“What would your grandpa say about that?” asked Laire.

There was only a few years’ difference between her and Kelsey, but Laire had lived through a lot of heartache in twenty-four and a half years, and Kelsey felt so much younger than she. The Leathams were originally from Ocracoke, which wasn’t anywhere near as conservative as Corey, but many of the values were still the same, and Laire wasn’t anxious that her new friend experienced the kind of hardships that she had.

Kelsey shrugged. “Wouldn’t love it. Nor my folks.”

“Think hard before you make a choice like that, huh, Kelsey?”