Chapter 18
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
With everything going on, the last thing Leo expected to dominate his mind was the fact that Andie smelled good. Great, in fact. The kind of smell he wanted to bottle up and keep with him always. Because he cared for her, more than he should.
The thought should have had him breaking apart and shifting to the other side of the couch, or the house, instead he nuzzled in, pressing his lips to her neck. Her sharp intake of air only spurred him on and he took a nibble, then a lick, turning her into putty in his hands.
“Does this make you feel better?” her breathy voice asked.
“You make me feel better. Come here.” He needed a filter gifted to him for Chanukah. Since that was as likely to happen as the menorah having real magic, he turned them until his lips met Andie’s. Hunger came through in how she pressed into him, devoured him, and suddenly nothing else mattered. Certainly not when Andie straddled him there in the den they all used to play in as kids. Sure, he’d had a date here, or two, but never like this. His teenage self would give him a few high fives around giddy laughter.
“Is this what you want?” Andie asked, pressing her soft center to where he strained against his jeans. He could only groan and kiss her, be lost in her.
Why hadn’t he brought a date home earlier? This sure beat dealing with his father. As Andie kissed down his neck he knew the answer, Millie’s doing or not, there hadn’t been anyone he wanted to bring home before Andie.
He collected her rear into his hands, squeezing, pushing her harder into him to their mutual gasp. He debated how much they could get away with when Andie scooted off him.
“I think Millie’s checking on us,” she whispered into his ear.
He now understood why he never tried this before, at least after he’d lost hearing. Andie smoothed her hair and wiped her mouth. Leo crossed his legs, uncrossed them, and tried again, before finding a position that would not give his niece nightmares.
“There you are!” Millie bounded into the room.
“Here we are.” Did his voice still sound too husky? Judging by how Andie snapped a look at him, he probably did. He cleared his throat. “What’s up, kiddo?”
“We’ve collected some gelt for you. It won’t be fun to play without you.”
Suddenly he didn’t need to worry about hiding body parts. “Millie, you know that isn’t necessary. I can buy my way in if needed.”
“Andie didn’t have to buy her way in, and that gimel should have been yours.” Millie plopped down on the couch, wedging between them.
“Thanks, kiddo.” He shifted to give her room. “Sorry for messing up Chanukah.”
Millie shrugged and left it at that. Not the first time she’d witnessed similar, and it wouldn’t be the last. It sent a fresh wave of anger through him. Glen could have as many issues with his sons as he wanted, but Millie was innocent and deserved not to have her childhood marred by things that transpired prior to her birth. “Uncle Dean went outside. It’s cold, I don’t think he grabbed his jacket.”
Anger morphed into concern. This day had him on one rollercoaster after the other. Dean must have had the same need to blow off some steam, without the sexy date to level him out. Brother or not, he needed to be there for his partner.
Leo found Andie’s eyes over Millie’s head. Barely, kid was getting tall. “I’m going to go find Dean.”
Andie nodded. “I’ll stay here. Millie can keep me company.”
His niece nodded and Leo wanted to pull them both into a hug for being in his life. Wrong time, wrong place. He slipped out of the room, avoiding the dining room and sharp sting of voices. He knew every creaking board, every visible locale. The Dentz siblings were not only skilled at sneaking out, but they also shared tips and tricks that he’d thankfully memorized prior to sixteen. Leo wondered how Millie had caught Dean, but he suspected Dean didn’t care who saw him leave. Leo, on the other hand, wanted to get outside unscathed.
He ducked into the living room, and then glanced around the staircase into the dining room. His mother, Jodie, and David chatted, not paying much attention to their surroundings. Even if they did, Leo suspected they’d let him be. The wall coat rack ahead of him perched next to the front door that hadn’t latched closed, cold wind seeping in. Leo grabbed his jacket and Dean’s, and made his final escape, ensuring the door closed behind him.
Dean hadn’t made it far. His large frame sat hunched on the front steps. Leo draped Dean’s jacket over his shoulders and sat down next to him, shoving his arms into his.
“That one moment in time must play on a freeze frame loop in that man’s head,” Dean said.
Leo stared out into the yard where he and his siblings had played ball and built snowpersons. A hill to the side had been perfect for sledding and biking into the street with abandoned care. Those were the memories he wanted to keep and cherish, not the endless sound of ceramic breaking. “Well, I guess we all have that one in common.”
Dean picked up a stone, tossed it to the grass. “There’s a difference between guilt and remorse and holding a grudge long enough to destroy a family legacy.”
“I don’t even think he remembers the story straight anymore. He claims we cover for each other, when we’ve been working together to try and make up for my mistake.”
Dean straightened. “It took two of us to fight.”
Leo nodded. Old habits were difficult to break. “Right. Our mistake.”
“I’m sorry.”
“You’re not the one who has to apologize.”
“Maybe not, but it can start with us.”
“A new Dentz Antiques. We won’t let him destroy what Grandpa built.”
both brothers stared at the yard. A leaf blew past and somewhere a dog barked. They’d grown up, made their own peace with the past. Now they could both weather the storm, and together it wouldn’t wear either of them down.
“Brothers and partners. The next generation.”
Dean’s head gave a sharp turn in Leo’s direction. “You mean starting fresh?”
It scared him, starting from scratch would be a lot of work. But it meant they could finally get out from their father’s disapproval. “I do. We’ll sit down and talk numbers and details. January second sound good?”
Dean smiled wider than Leo had seen in a long time. “January second, January second … I don’t think I have a date that day.”
Leo shook his head and bumped shoulders with Dean.
“January second is perfect.”
He held up a fist, and Dean bumped it. They let the silence consume them, sitting side by side on the front steps like they’d done so many times before. One way or another, they’d make it through to the next stage in their professional lives, even if it meant starting from scratch.
“Did Uncle Leo show you the magic menorah?” Millie asked after Leo left them alone.
Andie made sure her smile said “friendly” and not “beyond amused by this firecracker.” “He did.”
Millie’s hand went over her mouth. “I’m not supposed to say it’s magic, am I? It might ruin his wishes.”
Her large eyes appeared genuinely worried, and Andie reached out and touched her shoulder. “I’m sure whatever he wished for is fine. People make wishes on birthday cakes and everyone knows.”
Millie exhaled and lost an inch in height. “Oh phew. Because he really likes you and needed the push to finally do something about it.”
Andie’s smile slipped, but she caught it, unease crawling up her spine. What would Millie think when Andie left? Hopefully in a few months it wouldn’t matter, but Andie made a mental note to warn Leo nonetheless, because their split would have nothing to do with Millie or wishes.
Until then, Andie did what she did best: redirect. “Do you like wishes?”
“Yup. But only when they come true.”
“What would you wish for?”
“On a birthday cake or menorah or shooting star?”
Andie’s training and experience in childcare meant she knew “aren’t they all the same” wouldn’t necessarily be the right response. “Do different types require different wishes?”
Millie nodded and sidled closer, as though imparting a great secret of the wish sort. “Of course. Birthday cakes are for wishing for something good for the year ahead or for an amazing birthday gift. Shooting stars are rare chances to fix something in your life in need of fixing. Menorahs, on the other hand, that’s newly discovered magic, makes it very special. Chanukah is about miracles and something lasting longer than it should. So a wish on a menorah should be the same, wishing for a miracle to last.”
This kid was too smart for her own good. Andie wanted to sit there longer and explore Millie’s mind. She got why the family found her so endearing, and that had little to do with her being the only grandchild. That wonder contrasted with a deep disturbance in her gut. Most of the family were thinking big relationship thoughts since Leo didn’t often bring home dates, the kind of thoughts that led to wedding bells and many more gatherings to come. And even with those far-fetched thoughts for what Andie and Leo truly meant, they would all understand that not all relationships are built to last. Millie, on the other hand, thought it was because of how he made the “wish.” Wishes don’t allow for error margins of moving halfway across the country.
Andie had the sudden urge to defuse the situation and the fantasy but knew she couldn’t. This wasn’t her child or even family member. If Millie was her student, she’d change the subject completely. And perhaps that was all she could do here.
“How’s everyone in the dining room?” Andie asked. Not the best conversation swerve, but she’d roll with it.
Millie shrugged and hopped up. “Gramps is mean to my uncles, everyone else gets on Gramps’s case. It happens.” She left the room and rather than be alone, although preferable to drama, Andie followed.
They found the dining room lacking any level of theatrics, and Glen had left fortunately, or unfortunately, considering his sons weren’t there. Millie bounded over to her parents. Andie found herself being scrutinized by the matriarch of the room.
“I’m sorry you had to witness that,” Gayle said.
Andie carefully took a seat next to her. “It’s okay. Life happens, right?”
Gayle shook her head. “This is an old battle that should have been finished years ago. I don’t know what to do to rebuild the relationship between father and sons.”
Andie knew the polite thing to do, but she didn’t want to be polite. She wouldn’t be back here again, so no reason to hold back. “In my experience, the only person who can begin the rebuild is the person holding onto the drama and refusing to allow growth in.”
“Are you blaming my husband?” An edge sketched into Gayle’s voice, but Andie held her own.
“I’m sharing what I’ve seen with my own extended family. How people held so tight to the pettiest of disagreements and destroyed a family from within. I’m not saying what happened here is petty. But I’ve seen people react to things that happened before my lifetime as though it was yesterday.” Like her father moving her mother far away for a job opportunity and staying away until after Andie was born and her mother had passed. As though the death was his fault for moving. So rather than welcoming them back and cherishing the new family member, they held blame high and above all else.
Gayle glanced around the room, a single finger tapping the table. “You might be wise beyond your years like our Millie here.”
Andie smiled, a genuine one. “That’s a compliment I will gladly take.”
Gayle covered Andie’s hand with her own. “I’m glad Leo has you then. He could use someone levelheaded and kind, especially after days like this.”
Andie wondered how she ended up here, in the midst of her own situation, and how her departure might make things worse.
“And I still have hope. Glen is a good man. One who needs a swift kick in the rear, but he’s good. Underneath it all he’s got his father’s words in his head, stirring the pot.”
“Oh?”
“My father-in-law once struggled to let his own business go. He questioned if Glen could handle it and Glen had to prove himself again and again. Not dissimilar to what Glen is doing to Leo and Dean. On top of those repressed emotions, getting older is hard.”
Andie thought of her father, who hadn’t been an old man, but aged faster than his years. “We’re not immortal. And sometimes that can be a hard pill to swallow.”
Gayle studied Andie. “Like I said, wise beyond your years.”
“My father was sick for a while before he died. His future plans—anything from retiring to seeing me married and meeting his grandkids—all taken from him. And he knew he’d lost it and had to face his own mortality head on.”
“Leo got very sick not too long after the incident. So sick that Glen and I worried, as parents do. And then Leo started having trouble hearing and Glen, oh Glen, he blamed it on a teenager’s attitude long after we all realized it was more than that. The sickness, the hearing loss, it should have been enough to bury all this drama.”
Andie’s heart went out to Leo. To be dealing with everything with his father, and being sick, and then a disability, it couldn’t have been easy. It gave her more appreciation for the man he’d become.
“I suspect Glen has a lot of his own emotions to work through that don’t involve Leo and Dean.”
“Yes, I like you.”
“Are you writing this down, Mom? Or recording it?” Jodie asked.
Andie’s cheeks burned; she should have realized the quiet meant that they had listeners.
Millie popped up. “Let’s video it! Oh! We can do a reenactment!”
David put his hands on Millie’s shoulders and quieted her down. “Not the right time for that, kiddo.”
Millie pouted.
“I think it will be better coming from me than Andie. But don’t you worry, I’m making mental notes.” Gayle winked at her granddaughter, tapping her temple. “Come on, let’s bake some cookies, what do you say?” Gayle rose and held out a hand, Millie took it and skipped out of the room, dragging Gayle with her.
“I never got a chance to thank you for helping with the Chanukah party. Millie had a blast.” Jodie switched to a chair closer to Andie.
“My pleasure. I like kids.”
“That’s right, you’re a preschool teacher.”
Andie nodded.
“Don’t you get sick of kids, then?” David said.
Jodie shot him a look.
Andie could only laugh. “Believe it or not, I don’t.”
“Millie had a great preschool; I know the good you do.”
Andie took that to heart. She loved kids, loved supporting their early education. And to have it appreciated meant more to her than Jodie could know. “Where did Millie go?”
“Our temple. They have a preschool there. That’s actually how we got connected with the place. Best decision ever. They nurtured and encouraged Millie, handled her rough spots easier than I could.”
An odd flutter hit Andie’s stomach. “We don’t all have a knack for that, but the ones who do are golden.”
“And from what I hear you are that type of gold, if not platinum.”
It felt good, the accolades. She wasn’t in her job for awards or fame or money. But knowing she did good would never get old. “Am I being buttered up?” Andie turned around.
“I’m just thankful for people like you.”
“So you really liked Millie’s preschool experience.”
“It was more than that. It was the environment between classes. All the teachers were warm and loving, they gave the kids a good educational foundation. The kindergarten Millie went to had her bored after that.”
I want that , Andie thought. I want to be part of that kind of legacy. The Ohio job could have that, or she could be the one to bring that element there. But stepping into a team already on that path, it meant magic.
Perhaps Andie did believe in wishes herself, or at least some sort of magic. The magic of childhood. The magic of a teacher who took the time to connect with kids on their level. The magic of having support and like-minded coworkers.
She mulled that over. If the preschool at the temple offered her a job, she could stay local, not leave Sarah and her other friends behind. She could stay in touch with Leo, see where their spark went.
“You okay?” Jodie asked.
Andie snapped out of her thoughts. “I am. Sorry. My school’s closing so I’m looking for a new job and the way you spoke about Millie’s education, that’s what I hope parents of my students will say.”
“If what I’ve seen is any indication, I’m sure they will.”
Which meant Andie could do her own form of magic anywhere. But she wasn’t sure she wanted just anywhere.