the plastic bottom with a hollow rattle. "A lellow one!" Her smile lit up the afternoon. "Look, Mommy, hoos bwought me a lellow bucket for my shells and my wocks." She immediately began transferring the remaining contents of her pockets into the sand pail.
Emma bent down to properly admire it. Once done, she prompted, "It was very kind of Mrs. Mackey to bring you a present, Gracie. What do you have to say?"
"Thank you! S'il vous plait." Gracie gave Clare a huge smile, then immediately forgot both women as she plopped down to stir the contents of the bucket with the tiny shovel.
Clare watched her for several moments before she lifted her gaze to Emma's. "I was sorry to hear you're leaving Thursday," she said quietly.
Emma blinked. "My goodness, chere, you heard about that already? Why, Ruby just asked me this mornin' if I'd be needin' the room for another week."
"Yeah, I know. Jenny Suzuki heard you tell Ruby you wouldn't, and she mentioned it to me when she came into the store."
"Now, which one is she?" Emma wanted to know. "Is she the one with that darlin' little baby?"
"Yes, Niko. She was disappointed to hear you were leaving, too, because she was going to ask you to tune up her car for her like you did for Ruby."
"She wants a tune-up?" Emma straightened. "Uh, we could maybe stay on an extra week." She rolled her shoulders and admitted sheepishly, "The truth is, I could use the extra money." She glanced at Gracie. "On the other hand, maybe it's not such a great idea. If you hadn't come around and diverted ma petite fille's attention last time, I'd probably be workin' on Ruby's car yet."
"I could do it again, if you want. I'd really like to, Emma."
"But . . . what about your job?"
"I work part-time." Clare shrugged. "And it's a family-owned business. I can take off a couple of hours if the need arises, and I really would enjoy doing it." She hesitated and then added, "Gracie reminds me of... someone." Distractedly pushing her hair back, she met Emma's eyes. "My son, actually," she confessed. "It just feels good to be around her."
"Why, I didn't know you had a child." Emma's eyes lit up with enthusiasm. Until this very moment she hadn't realized how much she'd missed talking with other young mothers these past few weeks. "What's his name? How old is he?"
Then she wished she had trod more carefully, for Clare's face was now pale and her eyes were filled with a deep sadness.
But her voice was even and quiet when she said, "His name was Evan Michael, Emma. And he was six years old last year when he died."
* * * * *
Sam walked into the kitchen and found Clare talking on the phone. Quietly, he poured himself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter slowly sipping it while he watched her profile. He hadn't seen this kind of animation in her expression in a very long time. Not since Evan's death.
"Okay," she was saying, "so here's the schedule as it currently stands. Jenny is going to drop the car off at Ruby's at ten o'clock Friday morning. I never work Fridays so I don't have to do anything special to get the time off. How does that work into your time frame?" She listened a moment and then laughed at whatever the person on the other end of the line was saying. "Don't be silly, Emma; I enjoy doing it. Uh huh. Yeah, okay. I'll see you then. 'Bye now." A tiny smile ghosting her lips, she replaced the receiver and turned, starting visibly when she saw Sam. He pushed away from the counter.
"Hey," he said, his eyes tracking her face feature by feature. God, he hated seeing her vivacity drain away that way. Hated it that he didn't know how to reach her these days. That he hadn't known how for thirteen long months. Thirteen months, twenty-seven days and—he consulted his watch—six and a half hours, to be precise. "I heard you say Emma. Was that Emma Sands?"
"Yes," Clare replied. Her chin elevated slightly as if anticipating an argument. "She's tuning up Jenny Suzuki's car on Friday, and I'm going to keep an eye
Emma bent down to properly admire it. Once done, she prompted, "It was very kind of Mrs. Mackey to bring you a present, Gracie. What do you have to say?"
"Thank you! S'il vous plait." Gracie gave Clare a huge smile, then immediately forgot both women as she plopped down to stir the contents of the bucket with the tiny shovel.
Clare watched her for several moments before she lifted her gaze to Emma's. "I was sorry to hear you're leaving Thursday," she said quietly.
Emma blinked. "My goodness, chere, you heard about that already? Why, Ruby just asked me this mornin' if I'd be needin' the room for another week."
"Yeah, I know. Jenny Suzuki heard you tell Ruby you wouldn't, and she mentioned it to me when she came into the store."
"Now, which one is she?" Emma wanted to know. "Is she the one with that darlin' little baby?"
"Yes, Niko. She was disappointed to hear you were leaving, too, because she was going to ask you to tune up her car for her like you did for Ruby."
"She wants a tune-up?" Emma straightened. "Uh, we could maybe stay on an extra week." She rolled her shoulders and admitted sheepishly, "The truth is, I could use the extra money." She glanced at Gracie. "On the other hand, maybe it's not such a great idea. If you hadn't come around and diverted ma petite fille's attention last time, I'd probably be workin' on Ruby's car yet."
"I could do it again, if you want. I'd really like to, Emma."
"But . . . what about your job?"
"I work part-time." Clare shrugged. "And it's a family-owned business. I can take off a couple of hours if the need arises, and I really would enjoy doing it." She hesitated and then added, "Gracie reminds me of... someone." Distractedly pushing her hair back, she met Emma's eyes. "My son, actually," she confessed. "It just feels good to be around her."
"Why, I didn't know you had a child." Emma's eyes lit up with enthusiasm. Until this very moment she hadn't realized how much she'd missed talking with other young mothers these past few weeks. "What's his name? How old is he?"
Then she wished she had trod more carefully, for Clare's face was now pale and her eyes were filled with a deep sadness.
But her voice was even and quiet when she said, "His name was Evan Michael, Emma. And he was six years old last year when he died."
* * * * *
Sam walked into the kitchen and found Clare talking on the phone. Quietly, he poured himself a cup of coffee and leaned against the counter slowly sipping it while he watched her profile. He hadn't seen this kind of animation in her expression in a very long time. Not since Evan's death.
"Okay," she was saying, "so here's the schedule as it currently stands. Jenny is going to drop the car off at Ruby's at ten o'clock Friday morning. I never work Fridays so I don't have to do anything special to get the time off. How does that work into your time frame?" She listened a moment and then laughed at whatever the person on the other end of the line was saying. "Don't be silly, Emma; I enjoy doing it. Uh huh. Yeah, okay. I'll see you then. 'Bye now." A tiny smile ghosting her lips, she replaced the receiver and turned, starting visibly when she saw Sam. He pushed away from the counter.
"Hey," he said, his eyes tracking her face feature by feature. God, he hated seeing her vivacity drain away that way. Hated it that he didn't know how to reach her these days. That he hadn't known how for thirteen long months. Thirteen months, twenty-seven days and—he consulted his watch—six and a half hours, to be precise. "I heard you say Emma. Was that Emma Sands?"
"Yes," Clare replied. Her chin elevated slightly as if anticipating an argument. "She's tuning up Jenny Suzuki's car on Friday, and I'm going to keep an eye
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