Take Me Home for Christmas (Whiskey Creek #5)(46)
Author: Brenda Novak

Ted sat at the table across from Alexa, who was busy getting out her books. “What kind of homework do you have? Just math?”

“I wish,” she said. “I’ve got social studies and English, too. Tons of English.” She made a face. “I have to write a persuasive essay.”

“Believe it or not, I hated English homework when I was a kid, too.”

“And you turned out to be a writer?”

“It’s a lot more fun when you get to decide what to write.” Sophia hadn’t offered her daughter an after-school snack; she was probably worried that would make her appear too free with his food. “Would you like some cookies and milk before you get to work?”

“Sure, if…if that’s okay.” She checked the doorway as if she expected her mother to pop in and tell her whether she was allowed to accept his offer.

“It’s okay,” he assured her and got some Oreo cookies out of the cupboard.

“Oh, my favorite,” she said when she saw them.

“We have that in common.”

“Do you ever put them in ice cream?”

“All the time.” He peered more closely at her. “I have some ice cream. Would you rather I made you a shake?”

“Oh, no. I was just saying they’re good that way, too.”

“I’ve got plenty of ice cream,” he said, tempting her.

“Really?”

“Yeah, really. As far as I’m concerned, you deserve ice cream after a day like today.”

“It was one of the worst,” she agreed. “But lots of days have been bad lately.”

“I can imagine.” He could feel her watching him as he worked. “I’m sorry about that.”

“You didn’t invest with my dad,” she said as if that was a given.

“No.”

“That explains it.”

He crushed several cookies. “Explains what?”

“Why you’re so nice.”

“What happened wasn’t your fault. I certainly wouldn’t take it out on you.”

She prodded her sore lip with her tongue. “I wish everyone felt that way.”

“They’re hurt and angry, and that makes them want to place blame. Things will get better.”

“We’re going to move, anyway,” she said.

Sophia hadn’t mentioned anything about leaving town. “When?” he asked.

“As soon as we get the money.” She took her shake with a smile. “My mom says we need to start over.”

“Where will you go?”

“Anywhere but here,” she said with a roll of her eyes.

He could tell she was repeating the words and sentiments of her mother. “I see.” But, somehow, he didn’t like the idea of their leaving, despite all the reasons he’d been hoping for just that.

“How many books have you written?” she asked while she shoveled ice cream into her mouth.

“Fifteen so far.”

“Maybe I could read one.”

He finished mixing his own shake. “You’re a little young.”

“So they have sex in them?”

He hadn’t expected her to be quite so blunt—not at thirteen. But now that he was faced with that question, he had to be equally honest. “Sometimes.”

“That’s why my mom had to hide them!” Her laugh suggested she finally understood a great mystery.

“From you?” Ted asked.

“No, from my dad.”

Ted was pretty sure there were other reasons. His name on the cover, for one. But it was good to know she’d been interested in his work. He’d often wondered. “Was it just my books or other people’s, too?”

“I don’t know. But once he found your book on the nightstand and got so mad. After that, Mom could only read books he approved of. He’d give her a list.”

Ted felt his jaw tighten. “Really!”

“Yep.”

“What types of books would be on that list?”

“Books about God and cookbooks mostly.”

He jammed the spoon through another cookie to break it up. “Hard for those kinds of books to lead you astray.”

Again, she missed his sarcasm. “Except the cookbooks.”

“How can cookbooks be harmful?”

“They can make you fat if you cook and eat all the food!”

“Did she get in trouble for eating too much?” He was being facetious but Alexa took the question at face value.

“If it was dessert.”

“Your mother’s never been fat.”

She was scraping the sides of the glass when she answered. “Because she didn’t want to get in trouble.”

“Would you get in trouble if you gained weight?”

“Probably,” she said. “My dad hated fat women.”

Ted remembered Skip as having a paunch. He longed to point out the double standard but bit his tongue. “You and your mom are going to get by just fine. You know that, right?” He wanted to add that at least they didn’t have anyone policing what they ate or what they read these days, but that would be out of line.

“My mom’s doing better than she was at first,” she conceded. “I think it’s because you gave her a job. So…thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Sophia appeared as he was carrying their empty glasses to the sink. She seemed surprised to find him still in the kitchen, but she spoke to her daughter. “You haven’t started your homework?”

“Not yet. Mr. Dixon made me an Oreo shake. It was delicious.”

Alexa’s smile made him glad he’d taken the time.

“That’s very nice of him,” Sophia said, “but Mr. Dixon has a book to write. I hope…I hope you didn’t detain him by asking for anything.”

“I didn’t!” she said. “I promise!”

He put their glasses in the dishwasher. “I offered.”

Sophia rubbed her hands on her thighs. “I’m sorry if you felt you had to look after her.”

“Calm down,” he responded. “I’m not criticizing you.”

He thought she might ask what he meant by that, but she didn’t. She waited for him to head to his office. Then, a few minutes later, she joined him and worked silently at her own desk.

Somehow, he managed to write a few pages—a marvel considering how distracted he was. “It’s five,” he told her when he noticed the time. “You can quit.”