THE NEXT DAY, Carl and Duffy were “rebuilding the truck” like they normally did on Thursday nights. Of course, the part for Carl’s truck still hadn’t come in, so they were actually working in the McCready woodshop. They were up to their ears in sawdust and Carl came dangerously close to losing a pinkie, but they were happy as pigs in slop.
The McCready woodshop had been added to the compound sometime in the 1960s, when making caskets on-site became less of a demand and the uncles wanted a place they could practice their hobby closer to home. It was basically a glorified shed, with gray cinder-block walls and a corrugated metal roof. But Duffy’s father, Junior, had been meticulous about keeping the open space clean and organized. The tools were always sharp and the large worktables were oiled and clean. The air smelled of warm pine and sharp, clean chemicals, a scent Duffy closely associated with his dad. Carl was using a jigsaw to cut wood into patterns to match the frame Duffy had built for Lucy’s chalkboard menu. Duffy was employing woodworking skills he hadn’t used since high school to carve Lucy’s name into the boards. The power tools were so loud, the men barely heard Lucy pounding on the door to the shop.
Carl was startled when she burst through the door, resulting in him damn near losing the other pinkie.
Duffy whipped off his safety goggles and shut off the saw before Carl hurt himself. Lucy’s big brown eyes were shimmering with unshed tears and her face was ashen.
“Hey, sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he asked. “Is Sam okay?”
“Sam’s fine. Um, but I have a situation, in my truck,” she said, her voice quavering.
Duffy and Carl practically chased her out of the shop. Sam was a few yards down the “compound” on Tootie’s porch, playing with the dogs under Tootie’s careful supervision. She and E.J.J. waved, and Tootie called, “I’ve got him, honey. You just take care of Lucy!”
Lucy’s big red truck was parked with the bed facing away from Tootie’s place, so she got a full view of Carl and Duffy’s reaction when Lucy yanked the tarp off of the strangely lumpy shape she’d hidden from her son.
It appeared to be a collection of yellow plastic parts, held together with bolts, jutting out at a dozen different angles as if someone had been playing Jenga drunk and tried to make their creation permanent.
Duffy recoiled. “What in the hell?”
“Is it one of them ironic postmodern sculpture things?” Carl asked, his head tilted to the side.
“It’s Sam’s birthday present,” Lucy said, reaching into her truck’s passenger seat and yanking out a plastic bag full of plastic bits and bolts and an instruction booklet labeled BIG YELLOW PEDAL TRACTOR. While the little boy pictured in the black-and-white illustration looked very happy to be playing with the tractor, the booklet was about as thick as a copy of Field & Stream.
“Did Sam do something to make you mad?” Carl asked. Duffy took off his cap and slapped Carl on the back of the head with it.
A tear slipped down the curve of Lucy’s cheek and Duffy’s heart damn near broke. He put his arm around her and pulled her close as he rubbed her arm. “Okay, uh, Carl, help me carry this into the shop without Sam seeing.”
“Sure thing,” Carl said, picking up the reshrouded pile of parts and hoisting it through the door with Duffy’s help.
“I tried to assemble it myself while Sam was busy watching cartoons, but the instructions are just . . . nonsense. I do not get why it’s this hard!” she exclaimed. “I’m the one who installed our Wi-Fi. I rewired my stand mixer when the extension cord fell off. I built his crib, his baby bed, and his race car bed. I know how to use tools! But these instructions are just ridiculous! And I don’t understand why I’m so upset and this is so embarrassing for so many reasons.”
“Don’t feel bad,” Carl told her. “Marianne had to put together one of those plastic pirate island play sets after Aiden’s birthday a couple years back? I was working late and she said don’t worry, she could handle it. I came home to all these little plastic pirate bodies dismembered all over the carpet and the pirate fort in pieces. I said, ‘Wow, Aiden, must have had a big ol’ pirate battle.’ And Marianne burst into tears because Aiden hadn’t even played with it yet.”
Lucy sniffed. “That does make me feel better, thank you.”
“You knew it was important for this to be built right because Sammy needs to be safe when he rides it. You knew when to ask for help. That counts, hon,” Carl told her, laying a hand on her shoulder.
“Thanks, Carl,” Lucy said, smiling at him.
“No problem,” Carl said. “I’ll call Marianne over here to bring some sandwiches. And some moral support. And some beer.”
“He’s the redneck Prince Charming,” Lucy said as Carl stepped out of the workshop.
“Sure is, but you haven’t seen anything yet. Wait until Marianne has a birthday. It’s disgustingly cute.”
“I think it’s sweet. I’m glad they’re so happy together.”
“We’ve got this,” Duffy promised her, kissing her lightly. “Don’t worry.”
“Well, I’m going to help. Despite showing up in tears because the mean tools beat me, I’m not that big of a damsel in distress.”
“Absolutely,” Duffy said. “The first step is taking apart whatever the hell it is you did here and saving all the parts.”
“Okay,” she said, setting her toolbox on the closest worktable. The lumber Duffy had been working with caught her eye. Duffy supposed that was normal, considering it was her name he was carving into it.
“What are you doing there?” Lucy asked.
“Oh, uh, this was supposed to be a surprise,” he said. “It’s one of those proprietor signs for the front of the bakery. It’s got your name on it and the year you’re opening. And the scrollwork matches the frame for—oof.”
Lucy threw her arms around Duffy’s neck and cut off his air supply.
“Thank you,” she said, sighing into his neck. “You don’t know how much it means to me that you’re helping me with the bakery. Hell, that you think it’s a good idea, that just—”
She was crying again. And Duffy didn’t know what to do other than pat her on the back and let her do it. “It’s been a real long day for you, huh, sweetheart?”
She nodded without lifting her face from his shirt.
“It’s not just the tractor, is it?”
She shook her head back and forth.
“Come on, honey, let it all out at once. You’ll feel better for it.”
“It’s just . . . everything all together, I guess. Being outsmarted by the mean tools. Sammy’s birthday—it’s the first one without his daddy and I know that’s going to be weird for him. And I didn’t want to bring it up on our date, but I got a ninety-seven from the health inspector the other day,” she said, sniffing and wiping her nose.
“But that’s great.”
“Well, Herb Brewster—you know, Evie’s cousin—said that the ninety-seven is a B-minus.”
“On what planet?”
“That’s what I said!” she exclaimed. “So I appealed the score with the health department and the director said that they would send someone out for a follow-up inspection but it won’t be for another three weeks, which means if I want to open as planned, I’m going to do it with a big, bold red B-minus on the front of the shop, which doesn’t exactly put a lot of confidence in me, customer-wise. And it’s just so frustrating, dealing with small-town politics and extended families and I’m just—I kind of got pushed to my limit today.”
“Well, that’s understandable. But why wouldn’t you want to bring that up on our date?”
“I don’t know. It felt like such a downer. I didn’t want to splash my worries all over you when we were trying to have a nice time. I wanted to put on a happy face and enjoy myself.”
“I don’t want you putting on a happy face when you’re hurting. I want you to tell me what’s hurting you. I’m not him, Lucy. I won’t content myself with the easy parts of your life.”
Lucy nodded and wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you.”
“And we’ll figure out some way to work around this health department thing. You’re gonna open on time. I promise.”
“I hate leaning on you this way,” she said as Carl quietly rejoined them in the workshop. “I hate asking you for favors.”
“It’s not leaning on me. It’s applying skills that I happen to have to a problem that you happen to have. If I had a cake emergency in the middle of the night, would you help me with it?”
“A cake emergency?”
“You haven’t seen what happens when I turn on an oven,” he said.
“It’s true,” Carl said. “He made a pan of brownies once and we used it for a boat anchor.”
LUCY SAT ON her porch, sipping iced tea, watching Sam pedal his tractor around on the grass, making engine noises with his mouth. She’d mowed the grass herself just that morning to make sure it was a manageable height for the adorable little wheels. Before her toy-related meltdown, that is. Fortunately, Tootie had kept Sam entertained for the hour it took Duffy and Carl to take apart her Rorschach toy installation and reassemble it into a tractor shape.
Evie had called again that morning and asked if she could come to Sam’s birthday party. The problem was that Lucy wasn’t planning a party for Sam. All of his friends were in his preschool class, and from what Marianne told her, Lake Sackett parents were notoriously bad at RSVPing for children’s birthday parties, and even worse at showing up for them. So the previous day, she had brought dozens of brightly decorated dinosaur-themed cupcakes to Sam’s preschool for him to enjoy with his class. Maybe she would throw something more involved with his kindergarten classmates the next year, but for now, this seemed like the best way to guarantee a celebration with his friends. Today was a quiet Saturday at home with his mom and the giant plastic tractor he was using to mentally dig up the lawn.
She checked her phone and right on time, Duffy’s truck came rolling up the driveway, with passengers up front. She grinned as Sam stopped his one-man tractor pull and waved to Duffy. “Sam, sweetheart, come here.”
Sam immediately hopped off his tractor and came running to her. “Is Mr. Duff here for my birthday? Are we having another party? Did you make me another cake?”
“Yes, Mr. Duffy is here to see you on your birthday. No, we’re not having another party. But I wanted to talk to you for a minute, okay?”
Sam’s back was turned to the truck and Tootie and Duffy climbed out. Prince was cradled in Duffy’s arms, frantically licking his bearded face.
“Now, five is a big birthday. You’re not a baby anymore. You’re a big boy and I think you’re ready for some big-boy responsibilities. So, I was thinking that Prince could come and live with us, and you could help me take care of him.”
“Oh, yes, PLEASE, Mom!” Sam squealed.
“Now, look, we’re adopting him, which means he’s a member of the family. He’s not a birthday present. He just happened to show up today.”
Behind Sam, Tootie grinned and flashed a thumbs-up while Duffy silently removed a big red bow he’d obviously tied to Prince’s collar.
“I promise I’ll take care of him. I’ll feed him and give him baths and clean up after him,” Sam swore.
“Okay then, turn around.”
By then, Duffy had set Prince on the ground and the puppy gamboled straight for Sam, almost knocking him over.
“Thank you, Miss Tootie,” Lucy said as Sam and Prince rolled on the grass together. “I know you don’t take these adoptions lightly.”
“Oh, honey, I’ve never been so sure about letting one of my babies go. You three will be just fine together.”
“And the McCreadys send gifts,” Duffy said, bringing out several gift bags printed with brightly colored paw prints. “Dog bowls, dog bed, leashes, puppy shampoo, everything to get you guys started. The whole family chipped in.”
“Aw, that’s so sweet,” Lucy said. “I was gonna make a run to the pet store later, but this is great. Thank you.”
“Thank you!” Sam cried as Prince chewed on his shorts.
“We hadn’t quite started obedience training yet,” Tootie said, watching the spectacle.
“We’ll work on it,” Lucy promised. “He was going to outgrow those shorts anyway.”
Lucy went inside to fetch some iced tea for Tootie and Duffy, and when she came back out, she found that Evie had arrived with a comically large gift box wrapped in Superman paper. Sam had never cared for Superman, who had been Wayne’s favorite growing up. Sam preferred Batman.
While Tootie and Duffy wore strikingly similar expressions of distrust, Lucy tried to appear neutral. Though for a split second, she was worried that Evie had purchased another tractor for Sam. This was Sam’s grandmother, and it was a normal thing for a grandmother to want to see her grandson on his birthday. Of course, it would have been preferable for Evie to call and ask Lucy if it was okay to come over, but . . . yeah, Lucy had no excuse for her. It might be selfish of her, but she was thoroughly annoyed that Evie hadn’t called ahead.
As Sam was tearing the paper off the box, Lucy was struck with a sense of foreboding. She had no idea what was in that box, but she was well aware of what Wayne’s family considered appropriate gifts for kids. A Christmas involving lottery scratch-offs and promotional beer koozies came to mind immediately.
“Look what Mamaw Evie brought me!” Sam thundered as he pulled the box up and revealed a weathered bicycle with a body that had once shone red and a banana seat that had been reupholstered with new vinyl. This bike looked vaguely familiar.
“Oh . . .” Lucy said, nodding. “Okay.”
Lucy looked to Duffy. The grim expressions on both his and Tootie’s faces assured her that the helpless sense of rage she felt was not just a product of her feeling annoyed by her mother-in-law.
Sam was not ready for a two-wheeler yet, definitely not a two-wheeler that had been built for a much bigger boy, with no training wheels. Frankly, she thought she was pushing it with getting him a dog. Lucy should have been asked. It was shitty of Evie to just show up with this giant parenting decision in a box and leave Lucy no recourse but to take something away from her son.
“Sam, why don’t you and Miss Tootie take Prince inside? He probably needs some water.”
“Sure thing.” Tootie took Sam’s hand and followed him into the house. Duffy, probably sensing a storm brewing, stayed on the porch, waiting.
“What were you thinking, giving him Wayne’s old bike?”
“It was his daddy’s!” Evie cried. “I got it for Wayne’s birthday when he was a little boy!”
“Yeah, I remember him riding it to school in third grade. Wayne got it for his eighth birthday! It’s way too big for Sam. He could get hurt trying to ride it around. And he doesn’t have pads or a helmet.”
“He’ll be fine, he just has to get used to it,” Evie insisted. “It’s only right for him to have something that belonged to his daddy. It’s like keeping a part of Wayne alive.”
“A part of Wayne is alive! In Sam!” Lucy cried. “But that won’t last if he has an accident on a bike that’s way too big for him, with no helmet. Look, I’ll hold on to it for him for a couple of years and when he grows into it, we can try it then.”
“He doesn’t need to wait! I came all the way over here and I want to see him ride it now!”
“You would be surprised how little I care about what you want,” Lucy told her. “You should have talked to me about this before you brought it over.”
“Well, I didn’t talk to you about it because you don’t want to talk to me about anything having to do with my grandson. You didn’t talk to me before you decided to open that bakery or when you decided to take up with some man. My Wayne would be ashamed of you, carrying on the way you do. After all your years together, I just expected a little more loyalty. He wouldn’t have moved on this quick if you died,” Evie snapped.
“We don’t know that, Evie. And I’d like to think that Wayne would want me to be happy.”
“Well, I don’t like the idea of you bringing some man around Sam who’s not half the man my Wayne was. It’s not as if he’s ever going to replace Sam’s father.”
“Uh, I’m standing right here, Miss Evie,” Duffy said.
“What do you mean, some man? That’s Duffy McCready. You’ve known him since he was a baby. You went to high school with his parents. And I don’t talk to you the way you want me to about Sam because you seem to think that means you get to tell me whether I’m raising him right. I don’t talk to you about financial decisions because it’s none of your business. And Wayne can’t be embarrassed, because he’s dead. He can’t be replaced because Sam only has one father. Who I date is none of your business, as long as it doesn’t affect Sam, which it hasn’t.”
“I thought I knew him until he married that Lana Newton, but clearly, he’s got a screw loose if that’s his idea of a good decision.”
“Still standing right here,” Duffy muttered.
Lucy continued as if she hadn’t heard him. “I’m trying to include you in our lives, but you never just take what I offer, it always has to be more than what I want to give, the way you want it. You’re making this way harder than it has to be!”
Evie sniffed. “Well, you’re just making my job easier. The more people see you out acting this way, the easier it will be to take you to court.”
Lucy’s belly went cold and it was all she could do not to stumble back onto the porch. She’d been waiting for this tactic since Wayne had died, the threat of enforced visitation and dragging Sam into court to talk to strangers about who he loved best. She’d hoped Evie would never play that particular card, that Evie would respect Wayne’s memory more than that. Obviously, Lucy was naive to the point of being sort of a dumbass.
Lucy worked to keep her voice calm, even as her brain screamed at her to take her son and run. “If you want to go that route, and stomp all over what little love I have left for you, go right ahead. But you need to know that Wayne’s money you’re so worried about? Would pay for a pretty amazing big city lawyer.”
“This is bullshit!” Evie yelled. “I can’t believe you would hurt me like this!”
“Well, you reap what you sow,” Lucy snipped.
Evie’s eyes narrowed; she was clearly aware that Lucy was throwing her own words back at her. But oddly enough, Lucy didn’t feel a bit of triumph in it. This whole situation sucked and she was incredibly weary of it all.
“Look, I don’t want to keep Sam away from you, even though my life would be a lot easier and a lot less stressful if I didn’t let you into it. But you have to prove to me that you can put him first, to keep him safe and happy. You don’t get to just make demands and expect me to fall in line.”
Evie sniffed. “We’ll see.”
As she stomped toward her car, Duffy put his arm around Lucy’s waist. “You okay?”
Lucy sank until her butt hit the porch steps.
“Hey, it’s still a good day,” Duffy told her. “Your son is safe and happy and has a puppy he’s in love with already.”
“I don’t want to put Sam through some awful court battle. That’s part of the reason I didn’t divorce Wayne in the first place.”
“I honestly don’t think it’s going to come to that. The only lawyer in town likes you much better than her,” Duffy said, kissing her cheek.
“I hate feeling this way, but it’s like I can’t trust her at all with any little thing. I mean, you saw what she did with a birthday present. It just turns into this awful mess every time.”
“It’s not an easy road, honey. It never was going to be. But you’re handling it really well. And you look super-hot when you’ve got blood in your eyes.”
Lucy laughed. “That’s wrong.”
“I find you hot in all forms. I regret nothing.”
“Weirdo.”
“I’m your weirdo.”
“Yeah.” She sighed, leaning her head against his shoulder. “You are.”