Tinsel (Lark Cove #4)
Devney Perry
To my father-in-law, Richard.
Thank you for all of your input and knowledge about the Blackfeet culture and living in Browning. I continue to be awed by your life experiences and am so grateful to be a part of your family.
Kindergarten
“Pop! Look it!” With a smile stretched across my face, I slid my drawing down the table toward Grandpa’s seat.
His black-rimmed glasses were perched on the tip of his nose as he bent over my brother’s homework. “So when you’re changing a percentage to a whole number, all you have to do is move the decimal two places.”
“Like this?” Logan asked, drawing a dot on his paper between some numbers.
“Exactly.” Pop clapped him on the shoulder. “And then to change a whole number into a percentage, just—”
“Pop!” I shuffled my drawing, the paper swishing on the wooden table. “Look what I did.”
That got his attention. He looked away from Logan’s homework and picked up the drawing I’d done of our family, adjusting his glasses higher on his nose as he took it in. “Now what’s this?”
“It’s our family.” I beamed with pride at the picture I’d drawn. “My teacher said we could draw our families on this paper, and then we get to hang them on the big board in my classroom tomorrow.”
“Very nice.”
“That’s me.” I pointed to the smallest person on the page. I’d used everyone’s favorite color to draw them, so mine was in pink. “And there’s Mommy in green. And that’s Daddy in blu—”
“Pop, can you help me with my math too?” Aubrey shoved her way in between me and Pop.
“Sure, sweetheart.”
I frowned when he slid my drawing away and shifted his seat to make room for my sister’s homework.
“I did you in red, Pop. See?” I pushed the drawing back.
“Looks beautiful, princess,” he said, though his eyes were locked on Aubrey’s textbook.
I pouted. “You didn’t look.”
He sighed and met my gaze. “It’s wonderful. Now you keep coloring while I help Logan and Aubrey with their important homework. Okay?”
“Okay,” I muttered, taking my homework back. Then I slipped off my chair, which was quickly filled by Aubrey, and left the dining room.
Third Grade
“Daddy, are you coming to my recital?” I asked, standing in the doorway to his office.
He glanced at me then looked back at the mirror as he adjusted his tie. “I can’t tonight. I have a meeting.”
“You always have meetings,” I muttered.
“Enough of that pouting, Sofia.” The line between his eyebrows deepened as he scowled. “Adults have to work. Someday you’ll understand.”
I might only be eight, but I understood already. Daddy worked all the time. If we wanted to spend time with him, we had to come into his office.
I hated this room.
I hated the dark bookshelves that bordered the walls. I hated the leather couch that faced the gas fireplace. I hated the smell of his cigars that would stick to my hair. I really hated the desk in the middle of the room that sat on an ugly, expensive rug Mommy had picked out special last year.
I hated it all because Daddy spent more time in here than anywhere else in this house, including his own bedroom. If he was even home.
His fancy office in the city was even more hated than this one.
Because when he wasn’t here, he was there. Or at dinner meetings, missing my important things. He didn’t miss Aubrey’s or Logan’s things. Last week he’d gone to one of Aubrey’s school debates. And he’d been at Logan’s last soccer game.
I dropped my chin so he wouldn’t see it quiver. “You miss all my recitals.”
I’d been practicing my dance routine so hard for this recital because I got to be the leader of the chorus in front of all the other girls. My teacher had picked me to be first, and Daddy was going to miss it. But dance wasn’t important to Daddy, not like the stuff Aubrey and Logan did at school. Ballet wasn’t practical.
Daddy sighed, something he did a lot with me, and finished with his tie. Then he crossed the room to bend down in front of me. “I wish I could go to all of your recitals. But I have an important job.”
“I never want to have an important job.”
He chuckled and tipped my chin up. “Then you never have to. You can do whatever you want, my darling. Now give me a hug and then I’ve got to go.”
I looped my little arms around his neck and squeezed him hard. Then I watched as he went out one door to work, and I went out the other to my recital.
One that he missed, along with all the others.
Sixth Grade
“But, Mom!” My voice echoed through the limousine.
“No, Sofia. You’re not going.”
I crossed my arms over my chest and scowled at the back of the driver’s head. “This isn’t fair.”
“If you want to go to fashion week, I’ll take you in a few years. But right now, I don’t have the time to plan a trip to Paris.”
I rolled my eyes. She didn’t have time? Yeah, right.