Chapter 8
CHAPTER EIGHT
Myles’s metal spoon clanked softly against the side of his coffee cup as he stirred it, regretful that the coffee—what there was of it—was already cold.
Jet scrolled through his phone, oblivious to the bacon left on his plate, and Shelly busied herself making motes of syrup between soggy masses of pancakes.
“You shouldn’t play with your food,” Myles said, though he made no move to stop her. His attention kept wandering to the coffee pot sitting on the pass-through counter on the other side of the room and he weighed his desire for more with the ache in his hip.
Shelly set her fork on the plate, shoved it away, and leaned both elbows on the table. Myles was about to tell her to sit up straight, but then she frowned.
“Why does that man always swing in the morning?”
“What man?” Myles glanced where she pointed, out the front window to the porch of the bookstore across the street.
“He looks sad,” Shelly said.
“Does he?” Myles studied him. White-blond hair fell across his forehead in a long sweep, a longer, shaggier version of the top-heavy cut Jet favoured.
One of the long-fingered pale hands wrapped around a huge mug sported the bandages Myles had applied the evening before, and the one foot not tucked under him poked at the floorboards just often enough to keep the swing in motion.
He stared out at the street, though from where he sat, it was difficult for Myles to make out an expression.
“He never smiles,” Shelly said. “Maybe he needs pie.”
“Pie?” Myles reverted his attention to his niece. “Why would he need pie?”
“Pie always makes people smile. I bet he has a nice smile.”
“He has a very nice smile.” The words popped out before Myles even thought to censor himself.
Jet’s head jerked up, and his dark eyes narrowed at Myles, though he said nothing.
“His favourite kind of pie is blueberry, if anyone is asking.”
Myles and Shelly both turned to see who had spoken. The waitress grinned at them from the pass-through where she had replaced the coffee pot with a full, steaming one.
Jet snorted and went back to his phone.
“Oh.” Myles tipped his near empty cup to peer inside.
“Although I think the only kind he ever turns down,” she went on, spinning the pot in place as she spoke, “is mincemeat, and who can blame him, really?” She wiggled her fingers at Shelly. “He’s my brother.”
“You’re Stephanie.” Myles turned in his seat to face her better.
“I am.” She picked up the coveted pot and held up a finger. “Wait right there. I’ll come to you.”
Since she had the pot in her hand, he wasn’t going to argue.
A moment later, she poured coffee for him into a fresh cup.
“Thank you.”
“Saw you eyeing it. Sorry about the wait. Jake got distracted. Sometimes it can be hard to pull him back on task, and last night was rough for him.” She grimaced.
“And today is hard for me, to just let him get on with things at his own pace.” She waved a hand and blew a strand of her pale blond hair away from her face. “But that’s a me thing, right?”
“I can understand him being upset. Anyone would be, walking in on things like he did. Steven was bleeding, and he doesn’t know me. It’s natural.”
“Of course. No, you’re right. It’s more me having a hard time stepping back and letting him process. Lucy is so much better at that than I am.”
Myles glanced at Shelly, noticed he’d done it, and looked out the window. “That, I completely understand.”
“It was good you were there to take care of things. Thank you for that.”
“All I did was clean up a bit. Lucky and Kreed helped Jake. I hope he’s okay now.”
“He is. They both are, thanks to the cavalry.” She sighed and followed Shelly’s rapt interest to where Steven swung and sipped his drink. “The fact he has come out to drink his coffee on the porch every morning lately is, frankly, a relief.”
Myles frowned at her, wanted to ask why, but didn’t, because it was none of his business.
“Never mind.” Stephanie shook herself and turned to Shelly. “I’ll tell you what, sweetie.” She gently touched Shelly’s forearm to get her attention. It worked, and Shelly looked up at her, eyes wide. “If it’s okay with your uncle, I have a little favour to ask.”
“What?”
Stephanie suppressed a smile and winked at her. “Usually, I bring Steven a bagel or something for breakfast. But since Jake is a little bit grumpy this morning, he doesn’t want to come out of the kitchen, which means Mr. Kreed needs my help.”
“You want me to bring Mr. Steven his breakfast?”
“Would you?” She glanced at Myles, who nodded and tried not to let how interested he was in seeing Steven again show on his face.
“Yes!” Shelly bounced in her seat. “Uncle My-my, can we? Pleeease?”
“Sure, Shell. Jet? You want to come?”
“Why?” Jet scowled up at him.
Myles winced. He should have known almost-amenable Jet from last night was too good to last. “I don’t know. Books?”
“Comics,” Stephanie put in. “Graphic novels. LPs. There’s a record player upstairs. isn’t there?” she asked, pointing at the ceiling.
Jet narrowed his eyes at her. “LPs?”
“Real vinyl and everything.”
“Why would that be better than digital?”
“Oh, honey.” She heaved a dramatic sigh and twisted her mouth, looking to Myles for support. “This music you like”—she pointed to his phone—“AC/DC, Motley Crüe, all that old stuff. It was made to be listened to on vinyl. Anything else is a cheap imitation. Or Pink Floyd.”
“The Wall?” Jet asked, a note of interest in his voice.
Stephanie grinned at him. “Dark Side of the Moon. Listen to that one front to back. On vinyl. You’ll see. So much better when you listen to it how the band meant it to be listened to.”
“Uncle Myles?” Jet turned sharp attention on him.
“Not in your PJs. Go get dressed.”
Jet scooted out of the booth and just about dashed towards the stairs, remembering halfway across the room that he was meant to be a slouching teen and slowing his pace.
“Haven’t seen him that interested in anything in a long time,” Myles said. “Thank you.”
Stephanie shrugged. “Thank me again after you pay for them,” she suggested.
“If it gets his head out of his phone and his mind off the not-so-great friends he left behind, I’ll pay.”
“I’m dressed, Uncle My-my. Can I go now?” Shelly asked.
“You have to actually eat something.” He curled a lip at the soggy mess on her plate. “Do you happen to have peanut butter and bananas?” he asked Stephanie. “I know it isn’t exactly gourmet.”
She patted his shoulder. “No worries. Changes can be tough, can’t they, honey?” she asked Shelly, who nodded sage agreement.
Myles tucked a stray hair behind Shelly’s ear. “Frankly, I thought this whole idea would be a lot harder for you, Shell.”
Shelly shrugged and picked up a crayon, proceeding to colour on her paper placemat. “It’s an adventure.”
That made Myles snort. “Apparently an eight-day drive across the country, that’s fine. Pancakes that don’t come from a box? Not so much.”
“They’re weird,” Shelly said, still focused on her colouring.
“We’ll get you sorted,” Stephanie promised.
“And before I forget, Kreed wanted me to tell you he ordered dog food because he noticed when he was helping unload the car that the kind you had isn’t available locally, so he had it delivered along with his kitty litter from the place he uses in the city. ”
“He didn’t have to do that.”
“All part of the service. And he also told me to tell you if you want, you can let the dog out of your room. The cat should be fine, and if she isn’t, she’ll just go next door, and he’ll warn you whenever Rod is coming over with Scratch so they can go in the yard and get the zoomies out ahead of Rod’s shift. ”
“Again—”
“This is what he does, sweetie. Boutique service, and he’s always fully booked, so he’s obviously doing something right.”
“I just don’t want him to feel like he has to cater to me or the kids. Or the dog, for that matter. If we’re going to be a nuisance, we can stay someplace else.”
“This is what that man lives for.”
“I can see how Lucky is perfect for him, in that case.”
“Peas in a pod. Now, I’m going to go get your little munchkin some comfort food and pack up some food for my recluse brother. Back in a jiff.”
While Myles and Shelly waited, his gaze drifted back to Steven on his porch.
Stephanie had called him a recluse. Was it as simple as that? Myles remembered him steeling himself to walk out of the house into his own secluded backyard and wondered.