Chapter 27
Libby
“Don’t they make electric sanders?” Dax asks as we sit on the floor in the back of the shop.
“Probably. But this is the real way to do it,” I smile at him as I scrub a sheet of large grain sandpaper over the kid’s bookshelf that probably has four layers of paint on it.
“Okay, grandpa,” he mumbles, doing the same on the other side. It looks like we are washing cookware that has lasagna baked into it. “But really, I could go buy–”
“We aren’t buying anything. Unless it’s more elbow grease. Now put some of those beautiful muscles into it, Hemingway. I’m making you look bad.”
Dax grumbles and I smile. I didn’t make him help me with the kids’ shelves.
He did offer to buy new ones which I also turned down.
After I blew him in the supply room he offered me an olive branch in the form of telling me he wasn’t in fact going to get rid of the kids’ corner after all, an argument I can’t wait to have with Kai.
As much as he’s complaining, it’s been nice. It’s a Monday and while we are usually open on Mondays, I kept the store closed for cleaning and renovations. It’s also raining so we would have been slow anyways and the girls have school, so it’s been rather nice.
“You were right,” I say as I take a sip of my latte from our earlier coffee shop trip. “I should have gotten a large.”
“You know what would solve that problem in the future?” he asks and waits but I know what he’s going to say, and I decide to just let him say it. “An in-house coffee shop.”
“Ugh…” I let out. “But it’s so impersonal.”
“What about being able to order a coffee at your favorite bookstore is impersonal? Think about it,” Dax, who is currently sitting cross-legged, adjusts himself to come to a crouching position.
“You’re browsing the store that smells like old books and original wooden floors that your brother didn’t cover in tile.
And then you get the scent of coffee beans.
Cinnamon. And is that….oh yes. Fresh baked cookies.
And now, you’re spending money in the store getting all the dopamine. ”
I shake my head but I’m smiling. So, when he leans in to kiss me I let it happen.
“You are something else,” I say when the vanilla latte kiss ends. “But I’m not knocking a hole in the wall of my bookstore.”
“Are you sure,” he asks, his lips grazing mine again.
“Positive,” I say with a smile.
“Daddy!” The door, which I thought was locked considering we are in fact closed, slams open and a moment later, two sets of small eager feet come dancing across the floor.
“Girls?” Dax pops to his feet just as they come barreling to the back, tackling him. “Where is your Aunt Jenna?”
“She’s outside. She picked us up from school because there was a half day.”
“A half day?” he asks as Jenna walks in the door. She’s tall, thin, blonde, and understated. Very holistic and plain, and very angry from what I can tell.
“Yes. The girls had a half day because a water main in the school broke and they sent them all home.”
“I didn’t get a call,” he says, scrolling through his phone.
“That’s because they said we were allowed to walk if we have permission and Aunt Jenna lives right by the school, so we just walked to her house!” Poppy says. “Are you painting? I love painting. I’m very good at painting. What color are you doing? Purple? I would do purple.”
“You should have gotten an email,” Jenna says. “It would be a personal email though and I’m not sure how often you check that one.”
I see the grit in the corners of Dax’s jaw. I also see now what type of person Jenna is compared to her late sister. And how different they are.
“Why don’t we take the conversation outside,” Dax says, his tone very level. “Girls, you can stay with Miss Libby.”
Dax and Jenna walk outside. The girls sit down with me, and I show them the paints I had on hand, everything from white to blue to purple and sage. They argue over which color the shelves should be. Meanwhile, I get up to throw away my coffee cup–and maybe snoop a little.
Outside, Dax and Jenna are in what appears to be a rather heated conversation.
I don’t want to intrude, but they are talking loudly enough that I am able to make out some of it.
I glance back at the girls and then grab the remote that controls the music in the shop and turn on the soundtrack for Cinderella.
From where I am standing, though, I can still hear some of it.
“You are absent more than not and you don’t even know where they are half of the time.”
“They are with me almost every night. And when they’re not, they’re with you or at school. Like I said, I didn’t get a phone call.”
“Well, I did. And an email. You are receiving emails from the school district, right?”
“Of course I am!”
“Then you should have known.”
I decide that I have heard enough and make my way back to the girls with a container of animal crackers that I keep under the counter.
They light up and dig in as we talk about what the animals are, what our favorite animals are, and how animal crackers always have a cookie that’s hard to tell what it is.
“I think it’s an elephant,” Poppy says.
“No, it’s more of a buffalo,” Delilah says.
“I feel like it looks like a wildebeest,” I chime in. As much as I hate that Dax is duking it out with his sister-in-law, I love having the girls around. Honestly, I’ve missed them a little.
“What’s a wildebeest?" Poppy asks.
“It’s like an ugly cow. But in Africa,” Delilah answers.
“I bet we have a book about it,” I say, making my way over to the animal section.
I also keep my peripheral curiosity on the window, watching as Dax and Jenna duke it out. Eventually, he comes back inside, and I watch as he collects himself before coming over. I know that routine all too well. Making sure your hats are switched before you enter the room.
“Hey! What did I miss?” he asks.
“We are looking at ugly cows,” Poppy says flatly, and Dax gives a questioning look. I just smile in return. “Wildebeests,” I say.
“Ah. And how did we arrive here?” he asks.
“Animal crackers!” Delilah exclaims and I think it’s an odd enough answer that everyone stops asking questions.
Dax claps his hands together. “Well, the good news, girls, is you get to spend the rest of the day with me.”
They are happy enough about that and despite everything, I’m pretty okay with it too.
“So, what are we doing?” he asks.
“We were about to paint!” Poppy says, her face like a light bulb.
Dax’s eyes land on me. “Were we now?” he asks.
“I mean I don’t see why not,” I answer, grabbing a lavender purple paint bucket.
“Purple?” Dax asks and I grin. He hates it. And yet…it’s going in the kids’ corner. Appropriate, if you ask me.
“Yes!” Poppy says, dancing around him. “The best of all colors.”
“This one,” I say, looking at the bucket, “It's called Sugarplum.”
“Ooo, Daddy! Sugarplum!” Poppy sings.
Delilah smiles too. “We need brushes. This is going to look so good with the lilies on the wall. Dad, did you see? There are lilies on the wall.”
“There are,” I say, Dax is smiling, though he seems unsure.
Delilah looks at me and fills me in. “Our mommy loved lilies.”
“Oh. Really?” I ask, my eyes flashing up to Dax momentarily.
“Yes. And we painted some on our wall. Purple!”
“Sugarplum!” Poppy says.
I can tell it’s a sore spot for Dax. And I get it. The bittersweet feeling of memories that both cut like glass and connect you to the past in a way you’d never give up.
“And does Miss Libby think the shelves should be the color of periwinkle?” he asks, looking over at me.
“I think that if that is what makes you girls happy, then it is the absolute most perfect color for this bookshelf,” I answer. “After all, it is the kids’ corner. A corner made of magic.”
“Yes. Magic,” Poppy says with a sparkle in her eyes.
So, they paint the shelf purple. It’s messy and thick and by the time it is done it looks like children did it and I love it.
A whale noise rumbles from Delilah’s tummy and Dax smiles and raises an eyebrow that makes her giggle.
“Somebody’s hungry,” he says.
“Very,” she answers.
“The monster in my tummy is hungry too,” Poppy says. “I think he wants ice cream.”
“I think he needs dinner,” Dax says. “How about–”
I cut him off with a smile. “How about you all come over for dinner?” I ask.
The girls’ faces light up as though I said it was Christmas in July. “Oh, can we?!” Poppy asks.
“Absolutely,” I answer. “We can make tacos and watch a movie, and it will be lovely.” My eyes sweep up to Dax. “Is that okay?”
His smile grows warm. “It’s more than okay.”
“You live in a princess tower!”
Poppy’s words shoo away any worry I had about the girls not liking my apartment. After all, it’s not the mansion they live in. But a princess tower?
“I’ve never thought of it that way,” I say as we make our way up the steps, the girl's eyes locked on my lit-up window on the top floor of the old brick complex.
“She’s right,” Delilah says. “It’s like Rapunzel’s towner. Except that your hair is shorter and you’re allowed to leave.”
“But if you ever can’t leave,” Poppy says, taking my hand and Dax’s hand in each of hers. “I’m sure daddy would rescue you.”
I look over at him, my cheeks pink and he winks, setting free a jar of butterflies in my stomach.
I slowly push the door open and the oohs and ahhs begin. From my weird lamps to my tiny colorful kitchen, to the record player and the artwork, everything seems magical to the girls, which makes it magical to me.
“Your curtain is made of strings!” Delilah says.
“It’s called macrame,” I smile, heading to the kitchen to pull out the ingredients for dinner.
“I want macrame curtains,” Poppy says. “Oh look, daddy! She has kid books! Why do you have kid books? Do you have kids?”
Dax shoots me an apologetic look. “Poppy, honey–”
“It’s because some of the best books were written for kids.”
“Why is that?” Delilah asks, coming into the kitchen with me.
“I think it’s because kids care about more interesting stories than grownups,” I answer, pouring oil into a pan and turning the burner on.
“Why is that?” Dax asks, getting in on the conversation as he starts chopping cilantro that I set out on the counter.
“Because we believe in magic,” Poppy says and everyone smiles.
“That’s exactly right,” I point at her.
After that, everyone has a job. Dax is on onion and cilantro duty. Poppy crumbles the fresco cheese. And Delilah and I sear the meat and fry the corn tortillas.
“I’ve never had tacos that look like these,” Poppy says when we are done.
“They’re called asada street tacos,” I explain as I squeeze fresh lime across the line of tacos.
“They look amazing,” Dax says. I get the girls each a glass of water and a beer for me and Dax. The girls sit on the floor at the coffee table and Dax, and I sit on the couch.
“I’m sorry I don’t have a big dining table. I don’t have a lot of people over,” I say.
“I think this is perfect,” Dax says.
“Like a family dinner,” Poppy adds, taking a bite of her taco and letting out an mm sound.
I’m not sure how it makes Dax feel, the open honesty of it all. So, I set my hand on his knee. A moment later, he covers it with his own and gives it a squeeze.
After dinner, we make chocolate chip cookies and watch Tangled.
The girls cuddle up on the floor in front of the TV with blankets and pillows.
It might be a small house but something I definitely do not lack is extra blankets, everything from quilts to fleece throws.
Dax and I sit behind them on the couch, a blanket of our own over us.
Beneath it, his hand is still holding mine, though we are careful other than that.
The girls fall asleep, and we carry them down to his car, buckling them in and softly closing the doors.
“That was fun,” I tell them. “I love being around the girls.”
“And they love being around you,” he says. He seems nervous, an odd look for him. “I love being around you too, Lily.” He shifts his weight. “I was wondering…I bought tickets…”
“What kind of tickets?” I ask. “A movie? A concert? An art exhibit? Oh my God, is it the Ren Fair?”
“They’re plane tickets,” he says and I stop.
“Plane?”
“If you don’t want to go, they’re refundable. But I wanted to do something for you, Libby. You work so hard and you’re so incredible and–”
“Where are we going?” I ask with an impatient laugh.
“Costa Rica…”
“Holy shit!” I let out, then cover my mouth worrying the girls are going to wake up. I lower my voice to a very loud whisper. “Costa Rica?”
“If you want. There’s this resort that I’ve gone to for work things and it’s all-inclusive and really beautiful and has five-star restaurants on it and two pools and a swim-up bar and it's right on the beach and close to shopping. But if it’s too much–”
“And an all-inclusive resort. You want to go to an all-inclusive resort in Costa Rica? With me?”
“Of course, with you. Why would I go alone when I can go with an amazing woman?”
Dax steps closer and pulls me into his arms. He checks the car to make sure the girls are still passed out and then looks back at me.
“I would love to go with you,” I tell him, and he smiles.
“Good. Because I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he says before kissing me.