Chapter 56 #2
It took Blake eight months to build. Evenings and weekends, fitting it in around his restoration jobs. I helped where I could, but most of it was him—framing, wiring, plumbing. He called in favors for the stuff he couldn't do himself.
Six hundred square feet. One bedroom, one bathroom, a small kitchen, a living area with a wood stove. Simple, clean, built with the kind of care Blake puts into everything.
It's for David and Mary. An invitation. Come stay. Help with the grandkids. Be part of their lives.
We haven't asked them directly yet. That's what today is for. Show them the space, let them imagine it, then make the pitch.
Laine thinks they'll say yes. She's been watching her parents slow down, talking to her mom about how much they miss the kids between visits. Two weeks a year isn't enough. Not anymore.
I think she's right. David's been dropping hints about "when we're stateside more often." Mary asks about the kids' schedules, their schools, their friends. They're ready. They just need to be asked.
And if they say no, the backup plan is a sex den so our gorgeous little fuckers can't cockblock us all the time.
"Caleb, put your shoes on." Laine's in full mom-mode now. "June, stop poking your sister. Iris—Iris, we don't eat crayons."
I rescue the crayon from Iris's mouth. She gives me a look of pure betrayal.
"I know," I tell her. "Life is cruel."
"Da," she says solemnly. Then tries to grab the crayon back.
"Reid, can you get the sign?" Laine's wrestling June into her coat. "It's in the hall closet."
The sign. The kids helped make it yesterday. WELCOME GRANDMA AND GRANDPA in wobbly letters, decorated with approximately seven thousand stickers. Caleb did most of the writing. June contributed glitter. Iris contributed a single red handprint and then ate some paste.
It's perfect.
I find it in the closet, rolled up and tied with ribbon. Caleb appears at my elbow.
"Is it time?"
"Almost, buddy. Papa's going to get Grandma and Grandpa from the airport. Then we'll go to the surprise place."
"The little house."
"That's right."
"And they're going to live there?"
"We hope so. We're going to ask them."
Caleb considers this. He's got Laine's thoughtful expression, the way she tilts her head when she's processing something.
"Will they be here for breakfast every day?"
"Maybe. Would you like that?"
"Yeah." He nods firmly. "Grandpa tells good stories. And Grandma makes the good pancakes."
"Better than Papa's pancakes?"
Caleb looks at me very seriously. "Don't tell Papa."
I crouch down to his level. "Your secret's safe with me."
We spend the next hour getting the guest house ready. Laine arranges flowers on the small kitchen table while I keep the kids from destroying everything Blake built.
June wants to touch all the light switches. Caleb wants to know if there's a TV. Iris wants to be held, then put down, then held again, then put down while screaming.
"This is why we need grandparents closer," Laine says, catching Iris before she can toddle into the bathroom. "Backup."
"Reinforcements."
"How do couples do this?" She hoists Iris onto her hip. "Regular couples. Two people. We've got three adults and it feels like we're barely keeping up."
"We're not barely keeping up. We're thriving."
She shoots me a look. "Reid. June bit the pediatrician last week."
"She was provoked."
"She was getting a sticker."
"An ugly sticker. Her taste is developing."
Laine laughs despite herself. Iris takes the opportunity to grab a fistful of her mother's hair and yank.
"Ow—Iris, no. We don't pull hair."
"Ma," Iris says, completely unrepentant.
More hands would help. Especially hands that love these kids as much as we do.
"Mama, when's Papa coming?" Caleb's at the window, watching the driveway.
"Soon, baby. Grandma and Grandpa's plane just landed."
I check my phone. Blake texted ten minutes ago:
Got them. On our way. Mary cried when she saw me. David pretended not to.
I show Laine. She smiles.
"He's come a long way."
"They all have."
Seven years since that visit in Guatemala, when everything almost fell apart.
He kept it. Every single day, he kept it.
There were hard moments. Times when I saw him calculating, saw the old patterns trying to resurface. But he always told us. Always said I'm thinking about leaving out loud, even when his voice shook. And we always talked him back.
Now he doesn't calculate anymore. Now he's the one who plans the family vacations, who insists on sit-down dinners, who built a guest house so Laine's parents could be closer.
The man who was terrified of being too much is now the gravitational center of this family.
"Car!" Caleb shouts. "I see it!"
I look out the window. Blake's truck coming up the driveway. I can see David in the passenger seat, Mary in the back.
"Okay, everyone remember the plan?" Laine's gathering the kids. "We wait here. Papa brings Grandma and Grandpa to the little house. Then we yell surprise."
"SURPRISE!" Iris shrieks, two minutes early.
"Close enough," I say.