Taking Connor(28)

“Connor, would you mind taking these in the kitchen and bringing the bucket back, please?”

“Sure thing,” Connor agrees and moves quickly into action.

“My, my,” Mr. Jenson preens. “Is that McKenzie? She has grown up so much.”

“McKenzie,” I say as I tap her leg. When she looks at me, annoyance strewn across her face, I jut my chin at Mr. Jenson, and her face falls when she takes notice. Apparently, she hadn’t even realized they were here. Then, her mouth quirks into a sneer that I assume is meant to be a smile, before she returns to staring off into space.

“Sorry,” I apologize to the Jenson. “Teenage years.”

“No worries.” Mr. Jenson waves his hand dismissively. “Are Mary-Anne and J.J. here?”

I quickly call for the children and they almost knock Connor over as he returns with the bucket. He laughs as he catches his balance, and the children flock to Mr. Jenson. Mrs. Jenson stands back, arms crossed, practically glaring at her husband as he dotes on the children. I look to Connor, wondering if I can communicate my annoyance through a glance, but I find him watching McKenzie. When I look at Kenz, she’s sitting up now, her lips flat as she watches her brother and sister with what appears to be a look of annoyance. Her sunglasses hide her eyes, but by her posture she seems almost ready to pounce. I’m guessing she senses the rudeness radiating off of Mrs. Jenson and doesn’t like it directed at her siblings. I smile a little. I thought all of her sweetness had evaporated years ago, but it’s nice to see she’s still got it.

“Look what I brought for you?” Mr. Jenson smiles as he hands Mary-Anne and J.J. a Werther’s Original candy. The children waste no time ripping the wrappers open and shoving the hard candies in their mouths.

“What do you say?” I prompt the kids to show their manners.

“Thank you,” they reply in unison and hug the old man again.

“We need to go, Ned,” Mrs. Jenson snaps and walks to Connor, snapping the bucket out of his hands before moving to the screen door. Connor doesn’t even have time to react because Mr. Jenson moves on.

“You kids come and see me before you leave, and I’ll have a special treat for you, okay.” Mr. Jenson pats their heads and tugs gently on one of Mary-Anne’s pigtail braids.

“Okay!” The kids yell and jump up and down.

“Thank you for the vegetables,” I say, remembering my manners. It seems I need some prompting as well.

“Anytime.” With a wave, he follows Mrs. Jenson out and off the porch. When they’ve passed my house and are out of view, I turn to McKenzie, and she’s already resumed her prior stance; looking away, arms crossed, hating the world. Shaking my head I look to Connor, but he’s staring off to where the Jenson’s just disappeared. His brows are furrowed, and his arms are crossed as well. Looks like Mrs. Jenson leaked her bad mood into all of us.

Clapping my hands, I say loudly, “Who wants pizza?”

“We do! We do!” The kids yell and suddenly Grayson is running around my legs repeating Pizza over and over again. The screen door screeches open again, and Mark enters.

“Did someone say pizza?”



The kids are showered and bathed, curled up on the couch in the living room eating chips, popcorn, cookies, and whatever other junk food I could provide while they watch a movie. Grayson is playing a game on my Kindle, my last resort to get him to sit still for a little while when after dinner he got crazy hyper. I also folded and gave McKenzie my cell phone. I think I saw her smile a little. Thank goodness I have unlimited text and data.

“Five pizzas,” Connor mumbles in disbelief as he pulls the trash bag from the bin and holds it open for me so I can shove some paper plates in it.

I laugh. “They’re kids. How much could they possibly eat?” I jest.

“That’s one pizza per kid,” he notes, ignoring my stab at him.

“Yep.”

“Mark almost ate three of those pizzas by himself,” Connor continues, his tone still laced with disbelief. “I knew three hundred pound men in prison that couldn’t eat that much.”

Connor and I haven’t even eaten. The three pepperoni and two cheese pizzas we ordered are gone. I even made a salad with the vegetables the Jenson’s brought over and cut up strawberries. All of it—gone.

“Three of them aren’t even teenagers yet,” Connor adds.

“I know. I have no idea how Wendy and Jeff do it.”

As he ties up the trash bag, I grab the empty pizza boxes, and we head out to the garbage cans by the garage.

“That Mrs. Jenson was something else,” he states randomly.

“I know,” I squeeze my eyes closed, cringing. The way she eyed Connor was so rude. There’s no way he missed it. “Sorry you had to deal with that. Mr. Jenson is pretty nice, but she can be a total asshat sometimes.”

“He seems fond of the children,” Connor surmises as I shove the pizza boxes, down in the trashcan.

“Always has been and they love him.”

“McKenzie didn’t seem real fond of him,” he adds as we head back for the porch steps. As we reach the screen door, he moves to the side as he opens it, and as I pass by his large hand finds the small of my back, guiding me in. My body straightens as I pass by him, his touch affecting me more than I care to admit.