“Really,” Adam said as he entered the kitchen, “it’s okay if you call me Adam.”
“Probably best to stick with Mr. Hathaway,” Kyle said as he helped Caroline wash her hands. “Wouldn’t want to confuse the rugrat.”
“I’m not a rugrat! I’m a princess!” Caroline shimmied in her purple dress.
“Well, Your Majesty,” he said, “tonight you’re a princess sous chef. Do you want to be on cheese or pickle duty?”
“Cheese!” she said.
Kyle got Caroline settled slicing cheese to put on the burgers. Adam leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed over his chest. He still seemed uncomfortable, embarrassed over his question about Kyle’s mom. Kyle didn’t know how to tell him it had been such a relief for someone to ask about her instead of Olivia.
At the store that afternoon, right before they had run into Adam, Kyle and Caroline had been accosted by an older woman who had introduced herself as Diana Green, like she’d expected him to recognize her name. He hadn’t. She had told him how sorry she was to hear about Olivia and that she would be happy to help out Kyle in any way she could. She hadn’t specified, but Kyle’s experience so far said help usually meant either babysitting or casseroles.
Encounters like that had happened a lot since they’d returned to Red Creek. They started with “Are you Gord Fenton’s son?” and ended with “If there’s anything you ever need . . .” followed by a kind hand on his shoulder. Kyle didn’t know how to tell them that he needed everyone to stop treating him like he had no identity besides his last name, or like he was one parenting mishap away from a nervous breakdown. Mostly, he needed strangers to leave him alone.
Fortunately for Diana Green, Kyle had perfected the polite and noncommittal response that sent people on their way with the feeling they had done their good deed for the day. But he found the whole experience uncomfortable and patronizing. It was part of the reason he had leapt at the chance to invite Adam over for dinner, right there next to the frozen peas. Adam had offered to listen if Kyle wanted to talk, but he didn’t have that sad look on his face every time he spoke to Kyle.
“Okay, Jelly Bean,” Kyle said in the kitchen, trying to push the normal card as hard as he could. “We have the burger, and that’s our protein. And we have cheese for the burgers. What’s that?”
“Milk!”
“Good. And the buns are . . .?”
“Grains.” They had practiced this before Adam came over, and Kyle checked to make sure he was suitably impressed. Adam smiled and politely applauded for their performance. Caroline beamed.
“Great job, Bean,” Kyle said. “And we use whole-grain buns because they’re better for us than plain white buns. And what should we have for fruits and vegetables?”
“You don’t put fruit on a burger, Daddy!”
“Actually,” Kyle said, “there was this place near where I used to work in Seattle that put pineapple on their burgers. It was amazing.”
“Pineapple?” Caroline wrinkled her nose.
“Amazing,” he said again. She didn’t look convinced. “Why don’t you ask what kinds of fruits and vegetables Mr. Hathaway wants with his burger?”
“Do you like pickles, Mr. Hathaway?” Caroline asked.
“They’re okay.” Adam shrugged.
“Okay?” Kyle braced himself against the counter in horror. “Mr. Hathaway, I’m not sure you can stay. We are a pro-pickle household here at the Fentons.” He raised an eyebrow, and Adam flashed him a grin.
“Well, in that case, I guess I’ll have one.” His voice deepened, like he might have understood the unspoken joke, but their six-year-old audience meant Kyle didn’t chase it any further.
“Excellent choice. Pickle slices coming up!” He went into the fridge and pulled out the jar. He also took out the bowl of salad he’d made earlier in the afternoon while Caroline had been playing.
“Can I help?” Adam straightened from where he stood and moved toward the counter.
“Sure.” Kyle grabbed two large spoons out of a drawer. “You can toss the salad. There’s dressing in the fridge.”
“None for me please!” Caroline said from her stool.
“Yes, Jelly Bean,” Kyle said. “Thank you for saying please, but we’re all having salad.” Caroline pouted. Kyle whispered, “We’re trying to impress Mr. Hathaway. That means everyone eats all their vegetables.”
“Can I have no dressing?” Caroline eyed her teacher. Kyle pounded the counter with his fist.
“Sold!” He went to one of the cupboards for a bowl. He set it next to the larger salad bowl.
“Mr. Hathaway, can you put two large scoops of plain salad in this bowl for Jelly Bean please?”
“One scoop,” Caroline said.
“Two scoops,” Kyle said. Adam watched them go back and forth like a spectator at a tennis match.
“One and a half?”
“Two, Jelly Bean.”
“One and three-quarters.”
“One and seven-eighths. Final offer.”
Caroline pursed her lips and then stuck out her hand. Kyle shook it.
“You may proceed, Mr. Hathaway,” Kyle said. There was a second of hesitation, and then Adam’s face dissolved into a grin that reached from ear to ear and made his eyes crinkle in the corners.
“What was that?” he said.
“She drives a hard bargain, but I think we both feel like we won that one.”
Warm gratification spread in Kyle’s chest as Adam continued to smile. Kyle liked how the softness of the expression contrasted against the hard line of Adam’s jaw. As Adam spooned two acceptably sized scoops into Caroline’s bowl, Kyle tried to think of other ways to make Mr. Hathaway smile.
Adam checked to make sure Caroline was watching, then picked up two leaves of lettuce from the bowl and popped them into his mouth. “One and seven-eighths salad,” he said as he chewed.
“Jelly Bean, take your bowl out to the table please,” Kyle said. Caroline took the bowl and scrambled down. She headed out the back-patio door. Adam watched her go.
“We’re eating outside?” he asked.
“It seems like the rain’s stopped, and it’s not too cold,” Kyle said. “In Seattle, we’d eat outside any time it wasn’t raining, because we never knew when there would be a dry day again.”
“How long did you live in Seattle?” Adam poured salad dressing and tossed the salad.
“I moved out there for college, but I was back for summers and things and then stayed after for work and . . .” The next part of the sentence was and then Caroline was born, and that would mean talking about Olivia. He didn’t want to get into Olivia with this man.
“What else can I do?” Adam set the salad spoons down.
“That’s pretty much it. If you want to bring the salad and maybe the bag of buns over there, I’ll grab a plate for the cheese and pickles and meet you guys outside.”
They got settled at the table. Drinks were poured, food served, and portion sizes negotiated, in the case of Caroline.
“Bon appétit, everyone,” Kyle said.
“Bon appétit!” Caroline said. It was silent for a minute.
And then Adam moaned.
It was ecstatic. Pure pleasure echoed from the man’s chest, as he leaned forward in his chair, shoulders hunched in. Kyle stiffened.
“Are you okay, Mr. Hathaway?” Caroline ducked her head down, trying to get him to meet her eyes.
“I’m fine.” He smiled as he chewed. “But these burgers. They’re amazing. They’re not meat, are they? What did you put in them?”
“Fenton family recipe.” Kyle crossed his heart. “We’re sworn to secrecy at birth.”
“I can keep your daughter from graduating the first grade.” Adam scowled under dark brows.
Kyle laughed. A happy feeling bubbled up inside him. It had been a while since anyone had been relaxed enough around him to joke. “Extortion, Mr. Hathaway? You should know Fentons are made of tough stock. We don’t break easily.”
“I have ways,” Adam said. Kyle bet he did have ways. He wouldn’t mind finding out what they were.
Shit. He was flirting with his daughter’s teacher. He’d been so good to dodge the pickle joke, and now he was winding back down that path again. He turned to Caroline.
“What do you say Jelly Bean?” It was a low blow, using his daughter as a human shield, but these were desperate times. “Should we tell Mr. Hathaway the secret of the patent-pending Fenton veggie burger?”
Caroline smiled, cheeks full of food, and shook her head.
“Well,” Kyle said, “there you have it, Mr. Hathaway. The princess has spoken. Do your worst.”
Adam laughed. It was the same face-splitting, eye-crinkling laugh Kyle had seen earlier in the kitchen. It was beautiful.
“Fair enough. It’s delicious though.” Adam picked up his burger and lifted it in a small toast before taking another bite.
The rest of the dinner was uneventful. Adam asked Caroline about what she missed in Seattle. She talked about the time she’d seen a shark at the aquarium, and didn’t bring up Olivia, much to Kyle’s relief. When dinner was done, Adam helped Caroline load dishes into the dishwasher. Kyle was impressed how well she’d behaved throughout the evening. Usually, she would disappear to the living room as soon as eating was done. It wasn’t until he noticed her eyeing the pastry box on the counter that he figured out what was going on.
“Oh, I see,” he said. “You’re just in this for the dessert.” Caroline’s eyes widened. Kyle was unmoved. “Nice try. Should we see what Mr. Hathaway brought us?” He glanced at Adam. “Do we need plates?”
“I don’t know,” Adam said. “To be honest my sister sent them over. I think she was afraid I’d embarrass myself if I showed up empty-handed.”
“Black box dessert it is! Jelly Bean, you bring the dessert, but don’t. Open. It!” he said, seeing the way her eyes lit up.
When they were assembled around the table again, Adam lifted the lid off the box. Inside were four cupcakes: two white and two chocolate.
“Can I have the chocolate one?” Caroline asked.
“I don’t think so,” Kyle said.
“Please?”
“You can ask Mr. Hathaway. If he doesn’t mind taking you home with him and dealing with you when you’re high on cupcake and caffeine from that much chocolate and sugar, then you’re good to go.” Caroline turned her eyes toward Adam, her lip pushing out farther. She batted her eyelashes at him.
“I think we have to listen to your father.” Adam laughed as Caroline slumped.
“Half a chocolate or a whole white one. Take your pick,” Kyle said.
“Half a chocolate and half a white one,” she countered. Kyle considered for a minute.
“Deal.” He reached for the box and split two cupcakes with his fork. “Caroline, if you don’t grow up to be a lawyer, it will be a tragedy for the legal profession on a national scale.”
“Daddy, can I go eat inside?”
Kyle rolled his eyes and sighed. She’d only been in it for the dessert.
“I’m not going to try to argue this. I’ll lose. Go.” He shooed her away, and she immediately collected her plate and ran inside the house.
“You’re good with her,” Adam said.
Kyle nearly choked on his dessert. “You’re kidding, right?” He and Caroline had always had a certain repartee, from the time she’d been old enough to string sentences together. “I’m so wrapped around her finger I’d take her out to get a tattoo if she asked me.”
“No, trust me. I see a lot of parents with their kids. I’ve never seen one quite like you.”
Kyle ducked his head. He didn’t like the idea that he stood out. He missed Seattle, and the relative anonymity of living in a city. He missed Olivia more—in Seattle, with her, they had simply been another couple with another little girl. They’d shopped at the Korean grocer’s on the corner, and spent their weekends outside even when it rained, because their apartment had been too small for the three of them to be in it at once.
“What about you?” he said. “You’re not from a cookie cutter either. I remember the old first-grade teacher at Red Creek Elementary. Mrs. Fisher taught me, and my dad too. She had a fondness for sweaters with snowmen on them. Unless you’ve got a couple stashed in the closet, you couldn’t be more different.”
“What? Because I’m under forty?”
“Because you’re male? And under forty.”
Adam shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. “I used to teach middle school.”
“Really? In town?”
“No. At Newcastle Academy. It’s a small private school about an hour north of here,” Adam said. “I taught phys ed and science. And I coached the basketball team for the high school.”
“That I can believe,” Kyle said. “Didn’t think about going easy on the new guy last weekend, did you?”
“That was me going easy.” Adam grinned a wicked smile. Kyle grabbed a cupcake and stuffed it into his mouth. He bit the inside of his cheek, but kept chewing.
“So what made you switch?” he asked when it seemed safe to speak. “Going from middle school and coaching at a private school to chasing after first graders in a public school? It’s not as different as you and Mrs. Fisher, but it’s not insignificant either.”
Adam’s forehead crinkled.
“It was time,” he said. “I was at Newcastle for ten years. I liked coaching, but teaching was hard. Trying to convince bored, privileged thirteen-year-olds that they need to know about photosynthesis is a tough sell. My sister lives here with her family, and she told me about an opening at the elementary school. Seemed like a good change. Six-year-olds haven’t developed the same apathy that teenagers have. I tell your daughter that a tomato is a fruit, and she thinks I’m a genius.”
“She told me about that,” Kyle said.
“What, that I’m a genius?”
“No, that a tomato is a fruit.”
They both laughed. Kyle enjoyed the ease of it, the absence of the tension that had seemed to underscore so many of his conversations in the last month.
“What about you?” Adam leaned back. “Word on the street is you’re a girl Friday.”
“I’m a virtual personal assistant.” Kyle thought about his call with Shannon earlier and deflated a bit. “Slash travel agent slash PR rep slash general crisis manager.”
Adam frowned, dark brows scrunching together. The man had a scowl that could stop traffic.
“What does that mean?”
“It’s a bit of everything and not what I ever thought I’d be. I started in event planning after college. I interned for a charity in Seattle and helped plan fundraisers and things, then got hired as the charity director’s personal assistant.” He pursed his lips and tried to decide how to handle the next part. “After Caroline was born, being out and following my boss while she traveled around the country to raise funds got tricky, so I took my job virtual. It gives me time to spend with Caroline and still keeps me busy. The business has grown too, over the years, and I’ve taken on a few other clients. I do what they need me to do.”
“Is it what you want to be doing though?” Adam asked.
“It’s what I’m doing now. It’s . . . it’s been a tough year.” He hoped his voice and expression implied and I don’t want to talk about it.
“Must be nice being back in your hometown.”
Kyle snorted. “I wouldn’t say nice. It was . . . necessary, but sometimes I wake up and it’s everything I can do not to pack us up and get the hell out of here. But my dad likes having us around.”
“You said he’s working tonight?”
“He works as a security guard at the hospital.”
“My sister says she knows him. Did he work at the hospital while you were growing up?”
Kyle shook his head. “He got laid off from his factory job a few years ago, and it’s hard for a guy with less than ten years to go before retirement to find anything full-time in a small town like this, so he took what he could get.”
“That must have been hard.”
Kyle shrugged. “He says he’s doing okay, but I know he appreciates the help taking care of the house. It’s weird being here as a grown-up though.”
“I noticed you didn’t move back into your old bedroom.” There was a crease in Adam’s cheek like he was trying to hold down a smile.
“I told Caroline she got to live in my room because the bed was too small for me, and that’s true, but I think if I woke up in there every day and had to be greeted by my T-ball trophies, I’d probably go jump off a bridge or gouge my eyes out with a spoon.” His dad had said Kyle needed to get out and make friends. This was not the way to go about it. “Sorry, that was grim.”
“Grim,” Adam said, “but reasonable.”
It was a relief that he didn’t try to cheer Kyle up. So many times people went for the old when life gives you lemons approach. If that were that case, losing Olivia must have been equivalent of an entire lemon tree. He was grateful his dad had been there to take them in, and was happy to help out, but he didn’t see the current situation as the best possible solution, and was glad he didn’t have to pretend like it was in front of Adam.
“I should get going,” Adam said, half standing. Kyle checked his watch. It was later than he had expected. Around them, the sun had mostly set and the backyard had turned gray.
At the front door, the words that would ask Adam if he wanted to stay longer were forming on Kyle’s tongue when Adam said, “Thanks for having me. Always nice to get to know my students and their parents better.”
Kyle’s invitation died on his lips. “My students and their parents.” That was how Adam saw him. A parent.
“Right. Thanks for coming, Mr. Hathaway. It was good to get to know you too.”
Adam nodded and stepped out into the evening. Kyle shut the door behind him. He watched the headlights of Adam’s car as he backed out of the driveway.
In the den, Caroline had fallen asleep in front of her movie. Kyle bent and scooped her up off the couch.
“Daddy?” she asked, bleary.
“Yup, it’s me. Time for bed.”
“But I’m not sleepy.”
Kyle squeezed her as he headed up the stairs. “No problem, Bean.”