Phoebe was tapping her on the arm. “What’s your new book about? I wanna read it.”
Darla’s heart melted. She didn’t play favorites, but Phoebe reminded her so much of herself as a kid. Free-spirited and creative. “When you’re older, you can read all my books, pumpkin.”
“Uncle Nick did,” Maisie said, nodding. “All of them.”
Well, that was interesting. Darla jerked her head up at Rachel, who had lifted Teddy up and was hauling him down the hall, butt up in the air, for cleanup.
Darla followed them. “Uncle Nick?” Darla was not going to have mercy for her frazzled sister.
Rachel finished helping Teddy put his pants back on. Once freed, he bolted out of the bathroom to find his sisters while Rachel disposed of the prize and sterilized the field.
“Okay, so there’s been a development,” Rachel said as the scent of lemon-scented Clorox wipes filled the small space.
Darla crossed her arms. “A development?” She knew that Greg, her brother-in-law, was close friends and golfing buddies with Nick. “We discussed this uncle thing before, and I thought you were with me on the kids not calling him that.”
“Well, I was, until…”
“Mommy,” Maisie called in a singsong voice, “Phoebe spilled juice.”
“Just put a paper towel on it, honey.” Rachel tucked the wipes in an upper cabinet and washed her hands. “Nick has a house-flip business now, you know that, right?”
“No, I hadn’t heard.”
“Okay. Well, a few months ago, he bought the house next door.”
Darla felt dizzy. Must be Clorox overload. “You’re joking.”
“Nope. The Dooleys moved to North Carolina to be near their grandkids.”
“So he’s renovating the house next door?”
“And living in it. And sometimes his air force buddy stays there too. Anyway, he draws the kids like a magnet, and he and Greg are buds, and—”
“And you let the kids call him uncle?” It felt…traitorous.
“I’m sorry.” She shrugged, lifting her arms. “It just…happened.”
“I thought you were on my side.”
“It seemed disrespectful to have them just call him Nick,” she said. “And calling him Mr. Cammareri is a mouthful.”
“This town is way too small.” Darla shook her head. And…all her books? She knew Nick had read a book of hers for the very first time before she left last year. But all of them?
“I’d love to stay here and inhale bleach fumes and chat more, but you probably have juice footprints through the entire kitchen. I’ll go work on that.”
“Great! Now I have time to actually pee by myself. Love you,” her sister said as she closed the door.
Darla cleaned up the juice mess on the kitchen floor, which the dog “helped” with by lapping it up but then walking through it. Then she said, “Come here, little kittens. I have something for you.” The kids gathered around while she pulled rectangular packages out of her bag.
She’d brought the kids picture books autographed by the author, a friend of hers (job perk), and shared some insider info about the characters, which the kids loved—like the fact that Morris, the one-eyed gray tabby in one of the books, was actually named after the author’s own cat.
As the kids cleaned up the gift paper and ran to play outside, Rachel said, “Thanks for the presents. You know, they’re so amazed that you’re an author. We’re all so proud of you.”
“Well, I’m so proud of you.” She smiled at her sister. “They’re amazing, Rach.”
“I agree with that on most days,” she said, but she couldn’t suppress a telltale look of maternal pride. “They’re so excited to have their aunt Darla back.”
As Darla let the stab of guilt pass, Rachel stopped at the sliding door that led to the back deck. “There’s one teeny tiny little thing I forgot to mention.”
Darla stood on tiptoe, scanning over her sister’s shoulders. Peering into the backyard, she gasped. “Rach, no.” The “thing” was six feet two and broad shouldered, definitely not teeny tiny. “He’s here?”
Standing near the grill with Greg was Nick, holding a reusable water bottle and laughing. All three kids, let loose from the confines of the house, darted straight toward him. He set down the bottle and intercepted each kid in turn while her friends watched nearby.
Ugh. It was clear from the sounds of happy screams and childish laughter ringing through the air that they adored him.
In all honesty, who didn’t? Nick was a charmer. Handsome and easygoing and funny. One of those people with a relaxed way about him who could always make you crack a smile when you were down. Being on the serious side herself, she’d loved the way he could lighten anyone’s spirits in an instant with his laid-back joking around.
After all, he’d captured her heart during a ten-minute walk home from the library nearly twenty years ago, and she was still fighting the impact.
Her sister had to be held accountable for this torture. “Rachel?” she said as ominously as possible.
“It’s your welcome-home barbecue,” she said in her I-just-couldn’t-help-it voice.
“But why—”
Suddenly, Nick caught sight of her. “Hey, Darla,” he said from across the yard. Immediately, his hand went to his chest and lingered there. Then he seemed to catch himself, pretending to rub his chest then dropping it awkwardly to his side.
Darla froze, her heart suddenly pounding in her ears. He’d started to do something she hadn’t seen him do in years. Way back when, they’d had a little sign, something like a wink, just between the two of them. It was corny and weird, but Nick had always done it, part of his romantic nature, she guessed. But this time, he’d realized what he was doing and stopped.
Nick broke eye contact, grabbing Teddy as he flew by. He flipped the giggling toddler in the air before setting him down on his feet. Teddy landed a little dizzily, a crooked grin on his face.
As the kids gathered around Nick, lifting their arms and begging to be flipped, she got lost in a memory from long ago.
She and Nick were in the high school library studying—or, trying to, anyway. Nick kept tapping his tennis shoe under the table, trying to get her attention, and Mr. Howard, the librarian, kept shushing them.
Suddenly, Darla became aware that Nick was sending her some weird signal, opening his hand over his chest, tapping it twice, and then pointing at her.
“Something go down the wrong hole?” she whispered.
He shook his head.
“Heartburn?” she tried again.
His expression intense and serious, he again tapped his hand over his heart, nodded, and then pointed to her.
She sucked in a breath. Was he saying something ridiculous like his heart belonged to her? She barely knew this boy, and he had a reputation for being sort of a flirt. He’d kissed her one time, when he’d dropped her off at her door, and her mom had turned the porch light on and flung it open, so that was that. But that slight peck of a kiss had caused a shock wave to reverberate clear through to her bones.
She leaned across the table and kept her voice low so Mr. Howard wouldn’t hear. “I don’t get it.”