Make a Wish (Spark House #3)(40)



“I heard! And I have something special for you.” She pulls out a bouquet from behind her back. But it’s no regular bouquet. It’s made of cookies.

Peyton’s eyes go wide. “Oh wow! This is better than flowers!”

“You should probably save those for tomorrow. Too much sugar before bed will keep you up late and that’s not good for your teeth,” Karen says, raining on both Peyton and Harley’s parade.

“I don’t think one cookie would hurt. And it’s Friday night. Peyton is allowed to stay up a little later,” I say with a wink at my daughter, hoping to keep Karen from saying anything that will offend Harley or upset Peyton. I know she’s particular about parenting, but I feel like I’ve been under attack since I walked in the door after work.

“She hasn’t even had dinner yet,” Karen reminds me.

“Oh!” Peyton tugs on my sleeve. “Can Harley come with us?”

“Honey, we haven’t seen you in almost a month. This should really be just about family.” Karen gives me an imploring look.

Peyton’s face falls, and Harley, bless her kind, thoughtful soul, smiles brightly. “We have an event tomorrow, and I need to stop by Spark House to give my sisters a hand, but we can do dinner later next week. Sound good, kiddo?”

Peyton’s lips twist in disappointment, but she tries to cover it with a smile. “Oh, okay. Thank you for the cookie bouquet.”

“You’re so welcome and it’s so well-deserved.”

Harley hugs Peyton and says goodbye to everyone, getting yet another frosty response from Karen.

I don’t want to say anything in front of Peyton about how rude Karen was to Harley, so I wait until she’s asleep in bed. But by then, Karen’s already in bed too, leaving me with Kyle, who’s watching the highlights from tonight’s game.

Obviously it’s a conversation that’s going to have to wait.





Eleven


WHAT THE HECK AM I DOING?


HARLEY

“Well, that was a level of awkward I’d rather not experience again,” I mutter to myself as I get in my car. I try not to read into the way Karen reacted to me, but it’s difficult with how frosty her reception was, even after all these years.

While we do have an event tomorrow night, we’ve already finished setting up. So I don’t need to be at Spark House until later tomorrow morning. And that’s a good thing, because I could use a couple of drinks right about now, not just one.

I haven’t seen Gavin’s in-laws in years, and I can’t say much has changed. Kyle seems blissfully oblivious to everything, and Karen is about as warm as the Antarctic in the middle of a cold snap.

I leave my car at the apartment and head over to the pub on foot, so I don’t have to drive home at the end of the night. It’s already ten by the time I arrive, and Chad and our friends are seated at a table in the back corner. Andrea and Belinda see me first and wave me over.

I slide into the free chair next to Chad, which puts me kitty-corner from Belinda and across from Andrea.

Chad slings his arm around my shoulder and gives me a peck on the cheek. “Hey, babe, how was the work thing tonight? Did you have another birthday party?” He isn’t looking at me, though; his attention is on the hockey game on the screen above the bar. Seattle is playing, and it’s one of the teams he favors for his fantasy league, or at least that’s what I gather from the way he gets all heated when someone doesn’t play as well as he needs them to.

I told him I was going to help at an event tonight, but I didn’t specify what kind of event. “It was good.”

“Good. Good. Glad to hear it.” He whoops in my ear when Seattle’s goalie deflects a shot on net.

I shift my chair a couple inches away so he’s not yelling in my ear and let Chad chat about the game with Allen and Ted. Since Belinda is a nurse and Andrea is a kindergarten teacher, we always have great, lively conversations.

“How have the first couple of weeks of the school year been for you?” I ask Andrea.

“Full of accidents,” Andrea sighs.

“Oh no! I hope not serious ones.”

She waves a hand around. “Oh, not like, broken bones or anything. Half the class seems like they missed their potty-training lessons.”

I make a face. “That can’t be fun for you.”

“Not really. Some years it’s worse than others, but this one is particularly bad. Usually it’s worked out by the end of September, but one of the moms is still sending her kid in Pull-Ups and he’s totally capable of using the potty. And they have to be able to go on their own. Sending a kid who doesn’t understand how to aim has been … special.”

“Can you use the Cheerio method? Can you suggest it to the parents?” I ask.

“Oh yeah. I’ve had to send a bunch of YouTube tutorials home and set up a reward system in class. It’s wild.”

“So ironic that you and I both deal with potty issues, except I’m usually dealing with the other end of the spectrum,” Belinda says. She works in a hospice.

I can’t imagine how hard it is to watch people as they struggle through the last days of their life. It takes a special person to do that job. “That must be so tough.”

“More for them than for me. It’s about trying to preserve their dignity. I just try to make them laugh and keep their spirits up. Anyway…” She waves the comment away. “Enough about that, what event were you at tonight?”

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