Eliot stopped in his tracks, almost causing James to collide into his small figure. “What are Legos?” he inquired, tilting his face toward James’s voice.
James directed a tsk tsk at Jane. “Has this child been raised by wolves?” He laid his hands lightly on Eliot’s shoulders and prodded him forward. “Come on, son. I believe a few monkeys are waiting to meet you.”
“Wow!” Eliot yelled when the blindfold was removed. “This is the best room ever!” After spinning around and around, he performed two somersaults in the center of the floor.
“Thanks a lot,” Jane murmured and poked James in the ribs. “Now his room at my house is going to be unlivable in comparison.”
“I wasn’t trying to make this a competition,” James apologized sincerely.
Jane poked him again, and he let loose an involuntary giggle. “I’m kidding, you big orangutan. I think this room is awesome! One of your supper club friends is the artist, right? Tell us more about her.”
As the three of them settled on the floor and began to build fantastical houses, pirate forts, and castles out of large-sized Legos, James fondly reminisced about how he and the supper club members had first met. Naturally, this led to the subject of how the five of them got involved in their first murder investigation, and before he knew it, James was confiding to his ex-wife how hurt and angry he felt about Murphy’s book.
“I’d say this writer took poetic license to the extreme,” Jane said sympathetically. “Why would she do something so cruel to Lucy’s character? Did the women dislike one another?” She handed Eliot a red square. The boy was so intent in his building that he paid no attention to his parents, humming songs under his breath as he erected a colorful tower of blocks.
James spun the wheels of one of the Lego cars. “Murphy was always jealous of Lucy. You see, I, ah. I-”
“Let me guess. You dated them both!”
When his face flushed pink, Jane laughed. “Oh goodness, James Henry! The Casanova of Quincy’s Gap is right in front of me! And now?” Her voice turned serious, but her eyes still twinkled with mirth. “Who holds the key to your heart, you rogue of a librarian?”
“He does,” James answered and pointed at their son. At that moment, the doorbell sounded. “Ready to meet your grandparents, Lego Master?” he asked Eliot and the boy mumbled “Sure,” without bothering to halt construction.
James fully expected his father to exude a chilly attitude toward Jane and at first, the reception she got was definitely frosty. But as the evening progressed and Jackson was able to witness what a fine mother she was, he eventually thawed. He and Eliot liked one another right away. When Eliot shyly asked Jackson if he should call him “Grandpa,” Jackson leaned down and whispered something in the little boy’s ear. Jackson winked and Eliot rewarded him with a smile before returning to his room. Eliot stayed there while his grandparents toured the house, but as soon as the adults were settled in the kitchen, the boy sidled up to Jackson and tugged on his shirt sleeve.
“My tower keeps falling over,” he complained. “Can you help me, Pop-Pop?”
That simple utterance was all it took. Jackson smiled, showing more teeth than James knew he possessed, and marched off to his grandson’s room to show him how to create solid building foundations.
Milla wasn’t out of the loop for long. Eventually, Eliot wandered back to the kitchen in search of a glass of water and before he knew it, he was standing on a kitchen chair using the hand blender to whip the potatoes. James cringed when he saw the white splatters peppering his clean countertops, but when Milla noticed his expression, she flicked him with a potholder and informed him that all good cooks made a mess in the kitchen.
“Am I cooking, Grandma?” Eliot shouted over the whir of the mixer.
“You are, darling! And you’re a natural too!” Milla replied effusively, her eyes shining.
The dinner was a success. Milla made a roast chicken with stuffing, green beans, mashed potatoes, and biscuits. Everything that wasn’t slathered in butter was drenched in brown gravy, and James knew there’d be hell to pay when he got on the scale the next day, but he didn’t care. He served his praline pecan cake with decaf coffee for the adults and a cold glass of milk for his son, and he blushed at the compliments lavished upon him by the two women.
“It’s fair passable,” Jackson grumbled when Milla demanded that he open his mouth and comment on his son’s culinary skills.
Eliot turned to James and repeated his grandfather’s statement word for word in the same grouchy, reluctant tone. Everyone laughed.
“Seems we’ve got a smart aleck at our table, huh?” Jackson was obviously pleased.
All too soon, it was time for Jane and Eliot to leave. He gave his grandparents lightning-quick kisses on the cheek and then approached James for his customary hug.
“You’re a good cake maker,” he whispered into James’s ear and, unable to help himself, James clung to his son tightly. Eliot snuggled against his chest for a moment and then broke away. He took his mother’s hand and was once more carried off into the night.
“Is this part going to get any easier?” James asked Milla once the Volvo disappeared from view.
“Probably not,” she answered with a compassionate smile. “After all, I’m gonna cry every time you leave our house.”
“You cry over toothpaste commercials, Mrs. Henry,” Jackson remarked. “Come on, climb into your coat. It’s gonna snow. That damned dog next door’s been howling his head off since lunchtime.” He turned to James. “This is a good house, son. Well built.” He nodded in approval. “And he’s a fine boy. I’m gonna paint him tomorrow. My head’s right stuffed with pictures.”
“That’s great, Pop!” James was thrilled to observe the eager twitch of his father’s fingers.
As though embarrassed by his candidness, Jackson gestured toward the kitchen. “You gonna bring the rest of that cake home for us to eat, right? I’ll find a place to hide it ’cause you wouldn’t wanna mess up your diet or anythin’.”
“So you did like it?” James teased. “Yeah. I’ll bring it. But I may have another piece. After all, this is my last night sleeping in my old room. I might just need some comfort food.”
“Oh, don’t remind me!” Milla cried. “I feel like we’ll never see you again!”
“You will.” James embraced her fondly and thought, Next time we have dinner, it won’t just be with me, it’ll be with half of Quincy’s Gap!
Jackson, or rather the dog living next door to the Henrys, had been right about the snow. It fell all night long, but in timid flakes that appeared to lack direction. All signs of precipitation had disappeared by the next morning, but on Tuesday afternoon, a much more determined front had descended upon the Shenandoah Valley. A surreal pink sky welcomed a nearly stationary cloud bank and a cascade of vigorous flakes. When Wednesday dawned, the world was magically cleansed and completely muffled in white.
“The weather seems like nice complement to your parents’ party,” Mrs. Waxman remarked as she arrived for the evening shift two hours early. “The way those drifts have formed on the lawn outside-they almost look like piped icing, and the snow is so soft, like a veil covering one’s hair.” She patted James on the arm. “Enough of my metaphors. You’d better get a move on. And save me a cupcake or I’ll be quite displeased.”
James knew his former middle school teacher was teasing, but he stood a fraction taller out of habit and said, “Yes ma’am!”
He was careful navigating the snow-covered roads leading to the church and was delighted to note that Lindy, Bennett, and Gillian’s cars were already in the parking lot. His friends were busy stomping their boots on the door mat in front of the fellowship hall when he entered. They each relieved him of his dual armload of bags containing decorations.