because I asked him to, but he really wanted to stay.”
“Why wouldn’t you let him stay? You know I wanted him to.”
“I know.” At the hurt look in his eyes Fiona knew she’d made a mistake. “We had a little argument and I asked him to leave.”
“Was he mean to you?”
His concern was true and a light gasp escaped her lips. “No, baby. Sometimes grownups disagree with one another. I got upset and asked him to leave, but he didn’t want to. I wish he was still here.”
Ryder pursed his lips. “We have to take him some pancakes and you have to say you’re sorry.”
“I think you’re right.”
Fiona helped her son bathe and dress which proved quite difficult with a cast. At some point the steam must have caused a case of tumultuous itching down in the cast because Ryder seemed like he was about to crawl out of his skin if he didn’t get relief. She slid the parting end of a comb down into his cast. The sounds of relief he made reminded her of Mr. Whiskers when he used the back scratcher.
After Fiona showered and readied for her day, she joined Ryder in the kitchen.
“I lined up all the ingredients on the counter.” He stood on his stool and poured chocolate chips into a bowl. He’d even pulled the griddle out, but he knew the house rules and so he’d refrained from turning it on.
“Great, let’s get started.”
Ryder loved to stir things, but given his cast, he settled for being the measurer. “You’re the best sous chef a girl ever had.”
“I’m going to make this one for Everett.”
“Okay.” Fiona smiled and let Ryder lean over the griddle using his stool. He carefully placed chocolate chip clusters in various places on the bubbling cake until Fiona recognized he was making a smiley face.
“He’s going to love it.”
“Do you think he will make up with you?”
“I hope so.”
“How many pancakes does a man eat?”
“Hmm, that’s a good question. I’ve seen you eat three so maybe five or six.”
“We’ll go with six.”
They wrapped his six pancakes in foil with care. “Do you want to take the whipped cream in case he doesn’t have any?”
“Yes. And some chai tea.”
“We’re going to need a to-go container.”
“Here, Mommy.” He passed her his Spider-Man thermos.
“You’re going to let him use your prized thermos?”
“I guess so.” He nodded half-heartedly. “Just make sure we bring it back home.”
“I’m sure that won’t be a problem.”
They packed the picnic basket and headed out to the SUV.
“Do you think Everett will be at home?”
“There’s a good chance.” At nine o’clock on a Sunday she assumed he would be home. However, if he were at church wouldn’t she feel like a heathen?
She pulled into the massive paved drive that served as passageway to the large, stately home. A winding gravel lane wound into a circle in front of the house. In the center was a fountain at least as large as the one gracing St. Peter’s Square in Rome. She recognized Everett’s BMW, but there were several other cars she didn’t.
“Wow, it’s a mansion.”
“It’s pretty fancy, isn’t it?”
“Look”—Ryder pointed to the fountain—”it’s a bunch a children with umbrellas.” Fiona looked closely and saw Ryder was correct. It was an endearing image really. The children were carved wearing shorts and made to look as if they were playing and jumping in puddles.
“I wanna carry the basket.”
“But your cast”—
“I can do it.”
“Okay, at least let me get it out of the car for you.” She pulled the basket from the vehicle and placed it carefully across his arm. “Is it heavy?”
“No, it’s perfect.” He skipped up to the front door, leaving Fiona shaking her head. She loved her little guy’s spirit.
“These look like the doors at the Emerald City.”
“Wow, they really do.” Seeing things through the eyes of a child was quite revealing. Fiona razored her lip thinking about what Ryder may have seen last night
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley