Chapter 24
DELANEY
Darren’s daughter plops into the seat between Poppy’s and mine and beams at her aunt. Bryce follows close behind, a silent guardian who everyone in this town knows not to mess with.
Abbie’s quite literally a bundle of joy.
With her typical braided pigtails, a floofy dress that looks like it could have been snagged right off the rack at a beauty pageant, and scuffless white flats, she’s nothing short of a princess.
The natural blush to her cheeks enhances the slight dimple in her left cheek that she got from her dad.
It’s not all she got from Darren, but for some reason I refuse to pinpoint, it’s the one that I always seem to focus on.
Bryce pushes the back of Abbie’s chair in and examines the coffee I’ve abandoned before glancing directly at me. I lift my hand to wave, knowing she’s already noticed me creeping on the table. She quirks a corner of her mouth and wiggles her fingers.
“Delaney? Did you want to order something?”
I jump at the voice, whipping my head back around to look at the barista, who apparently knows my name. “I’m sorry. Yes, please. I’ll do two cherry turnovers.”
“You got it,” she says, luckily not pointing out my brain lag .
“Actually, could you make that three? And a sprinkle donut?”
She nods and adds the extra pastries to my order before telling me the total. I’m on autopilot as I pay for the food and take a step back to wait for her to slip them into a paper bag.
“You look like a real-life princess, Abs. Where did you get your dress?” Poppy asks, the café too empty not to hear every word of their conversation.
Abbie’s high-pitched, sweet-as-icing voice hides the crinkle of the pastry bag. “Dad ordered it on the computer! He let me pick it.”
“Oh, trust me, we can tell it wasn’t him who chose it,” Bryce says.
Poppy laughs. “Be nice, Ice. Darren’s fashion sense isn’t that terrible. At least not anymore.”
“Has your dad been watching fashion shows on TV again, Abbie?” Bryce asks.
“Mmm, sometimes. But it’s supposed to be a secret.”
Bryce’s snort travels loudly across the café. “Not anymore.”
“Here you are! If you need anything else, just flag me over, or come up and ring the bell. It’s pretty slow in here today,” the barista says.
I nod clunkily and take the bag. “Oh, thanks.”
“Have a good day!”
My responding smile must look wonky because the barista scrunches her face in confusion before slowly disappearing into the back room.
I consider never showing my face in this place again and head back to the table.
It’s unfortunately not possible to do that.
Not when it’s the only coffee place within an hour’s drive, and coffee made at home never tastes the same, regardless of how many fancy pods I buy for my machine.
“Della! You’re back with the goodies,” Poppy says once I get close.
Bryce lifts her eyes and flashes me a half-smile. It’s as close to a full one as anyone but Daisy will ever get. “Hey. ”
“Hi, Ms. Delaney. What are you doing here?” Abbie asks, her manners as perfect outside of a classroom as they are inside.
“I was having coffee with your aunt. She’s been pretty great company.”
“Yeah, you hear that? Make sure you tell your dad exactly that the next time he tries to get out of family dinner,” Poppy pokes.
I set the brown bag onto the table and reach inside for the stack of napkins I watched the barista slip inside before taking my seat. Abbie’s excited stare follows my movements while I hand out the napkins and finally reach in to pull out the sprinkled donut.
Abbie doesn’t reply to Poppy and instead asks, “Is that donut for me?”
“That depends. Do you like sprinkle donuts?”
“Yes! They’re my favourite. I get one every Sunday morning with my dad,” she explains quickly, the words almost running away from her.
My chest pangs. I relax my grip on the donut in question when I feel my nail dig into it.
“Well, then, this is for you. I love them too.”
Did he know he was continuing our tradition with his daughter, or was it subconscious?
It doesn’t matter either way. He still did it. Still had me on his mind enough to affect his actions. It’s another truth in the claims he’s made repeatedly since deciding to seek out contact with me again.
Abbie nearly rips the donut out of my hands and brings it to her mouth. Before her teeth can sink into it, she smiles sheepishly over the rim and says, “Thank you, Ms. Delaney.”
“Just Delaney. You don’t have to call me Miss unless we’re in the classroom.”
“Okay! Cool.”
“It looks like you cleared them out of pastries,” Bryce says, eyeing the larger-than-normal bag .
Poppy takes the bag and looks inside. “I knew it. Della’s too sweet to keep you starving, even when you deserve it. Here. Take this and say thank you like a good girl.”
“Thank you, Delaney,” Bryce sasses.
Poppy hands her best friend the extra turnover before dishing the remaining two out.
I ignore mine and watch Abbie set her donut down on the table with one bite missing and start picking the yellow sprinkles off.
She sets them into a pile on her napkin, not stopping until they’re all off.
Then, she pushes aside the napkin and starts eating her donut again.
“She always saves the yellow sprinkles for last,” Poppy whispers, following my line of sight.
I blink away from Abbie. “Why?”
“I’m not sure. I imagine it’s the same reason we always saved the red Smarties or Skittles for last. Yellow is Abbie’s version of that. It’s the same for most candy too.”
“So, I should try and find a donut with more or less yellow sprinkles on it next time?”
Poppy smirks, glancing at Bryce. “Next time?”
“What’s with you and your brother repeating that to me? Yes, next time.”
“Touchy, touchy,” Bryce teases.
“You know what? Forget I said that at all.”
“Oh, no can do. Now, tell me when my brother said that. Was it the other night?” Poppy demands.
Bryce lifts her turnover. “I feel like I missed a discussion that I’m going to want the details on.”
“Why are you here, anyway? Get tired of babysitting by yourself?” I ask the self-proclaimed Ice Queen.
Her eyes flare with excitement at my borderline frustrated tone. “Why? Does it bother you?”
“No. I just wasn’t expecting you two to be here.”
“Bryce is watching Abbie every Saturday afternoon while Darren’s at the station this month. The crew is working on one of those fundraisers, and he couldn’t get out of it,” Poppy explains with an eye roll in Bryce’s direction.
I swallow, a weird pang appearing in my side. “He didn’t mention that to me.”
“Did you two not discuss weekend schedules on your date? Actually, what did you discuss? Anything worth sharing?” Bryce asks.
I choke on an exhale and look at Abbie, ensuring she didn’t hear the mention of a date. Once I’m satisfied that she’s only interested in finishing the last bite of her donut, I turn back to Bryce.
“You know about it too?”
“Of course I did. Did you think he chose a decent outfit on his own?”
“I assumed Poppy did that.”
Bryce twists the engagement ring on her finger and winks. “Wrong.”
“Well, once my brother’s done with the designs for mine and Garrison’s new house, I’ll be around more often to help with all of his outfits. If he doesn’t have someone else to do that by then, of course,” Poppy says, her smile sly.
I scoot my chair closer to the table and ask, “Darren’s designing your house?”
“Oof, did you even speak on your date?”
“Stop calling it a date, Bryce. You’re as bad as he is,” I huff.
She tucks her lips together in reply. There’s something like smug satisfaction in the blinding blue of her eyes, though. It’s impossible to miss.
“Yes, he’s designing our place. It’s going really good so far too. Have you seen his house at all? It’s incredible, and he designed it himself,” Poppy says.
Abbie pops her head up. “My house?”
“Yes, your house. It’s pretty nice, right?”
“Dad says it’s getting too small.”
Poppy’s brows pinch together. “He did? When? ”
“Don’t remember. I told him I want a room for all of my dresses if we move, though.”
“I’m sure he’d get you a hundred rooms for your dresses, Abs,” Poppy murmurs.
Abbie grins and taps Bryce on the shoulder. “Can we make bracelets now?”
I swear I can see Bryce’s skin crawl as she digests the question, thinking and thinking . . .
“You don’t want to do them later with your dad?”
“Nope. You said we could do them together here if I stopped asking.”
Poppy swallows a laugh and cocks her head at Bryce. I take a bite of my turnover and pretend to look out the café window.
“You know, I think Delaney would be interested in bracelet making. Why don’t you ask
her?”
Hiding my panic is impossible. Bryce meets my wide-eyed stare with crooked lips.
“Oh, I don’t think I even know how,” I ramble.
Abbie reaches beneath her chair and suddenly plops a giant pink bag onto the table. “I can teach you. It’s easy with practice.”
“Oh, you brought your entire collection with you,” Poppy jokes.
“I wanted to make lots and give them to Dad’s friends at work.”
Of course, she’s thoughtful too. She’s pretty much the perfect daughter.
“Are you really up for teaching me? I might slow you down. I’m sure you’re a professional at this point,” I say.
Abbie replies by gripping her sack of supplies on both sides and tipping the entire thing upside down.
The contents spill all over the table, all neatly organized into clear baggies and neat rolls of clear elastic.
A small pair of scissors hits the side of Poppy’s empty coffee cup before sliding toward me.
The array of beads is a bit staggering. There’s everything from pearls to sparkles, neon and pastel. Abbie starts sorting through the mess and pushes aside three containers of gems and charms and letters. I’m overwhelmed just from looking at everything.
“How long have you been making bracelets for?” I ask, almost in awe.
“A while. I don’t like to colour much. Watching TV is boring.”
“That’s fair. I’m not much for those things either. Do you like flowers?”
Abbie cocks her head, lips pushing out as she thinks. “I think so.”
“I like to take care of mine when I’m bored. Maybe I’ll take to bracelet making after today.”
“What is your favourite colour?” she asks, already sorting through the bags of colour-coordinated beads.
“I’ll go with green.”
“Here! I’ll show you how to tie the string first.”
I nod and wait while she starts unrolling some clear elastic from the first roll on the table. Someone nudges my foot under the table, and I look to my right, catching Poppy’s soft expression. I freeze, worry building in my chest before she shakes her head, reading me instantly.
A few simple words from her soothe my anxiety.
“She likes you.”