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Tessa fidgeted. “Just a brand I especially like. My mother sent a care package.”
“She afraid you’ve landed in the boonies?”
Looking mortified, Tessa shook her head. “No, of course not. She just spoils me. Looks like I’m doing the same thing.”
“I told her we often have cocoa in the evening,” Dorothy added with a look that dared him to counter her words.
“Would you like some?” Tessa questioned. “You must be hungry.”
“Yes, you must,” Dorothy chimed in. “We had leftover stew for dinner. Guessed you might be late so I made sure to cook something that warms up even better than the original.”
How could he argue with someone as caring as Dorothy? He wasn’t hungry, but common sense told him he should eat. “Sounds good, Dorothy. Thanks.”
“It has baby carrots and baby peas,” Poppy told him. “And it’s really good.”
“Everything Dorothy cooks is really good,” he agreed, putting his tablet on the counter, glancing at the screen before he turned it off.
Tessa lit the burner beneath a pan of milk. “Won’t take a moment to fix another cup of cocoa.”
He started to protest, but the wall of goodwill was overpowering. And he didn’t have the energy to surmount it. Dorothy scooped some stew into a bowl. Once in the microwave, the warming dinner emitted aromas reserved for waking the deadest of appetites.
Only a few minutes later, Tessa set a mug of hot cocoa in front of him. “I hope you’ll like it.”
He nodded. It was something he’d usually skip, but he didn’t want to be rude.
“Taste it, Daddy. It’s real good.”
He took an obligatory sip. Surprised, he glanced up. “This really is good.”
“It’s bittersweet,” Tessa explained. “Most hot cocoa is milk chocolate, a little sweet for me.”
“She put lots of marshmallows in mine,” Poppy explained, adding a cocoa mustache to her face with another sip. “So it would be sweeter.”
“You’re pretty sweet already,” he told his darling girl.
She grinned. “You always think that.”
Yes, yes, he did.
Dorothy placed a heaping bowl of stew in front of him. “I know you didn’t get your three squares today.”
He’d taken off before breakfast. There was a vague memory of a few doughnuts and coffee. Endless cups of coffee. And he’d skipped lunch.
“I ate my stew at dinner,” Poppy informed him.
“It is good,” Tessa chimed in.
Dorothy looked down at him, then raised her eyebrows.
Picking up a spoon, he dug in, knowing it wouldn’t be wise to say he was too tired to eat. He swallowed a bite. “Delicious.”
Glancing up, he caught Tessa’s concerned stare. She met his eyes, then finally looked down. What was in her aquamarine gaze?
“I’m going to a party!” Poppy announced.
“Party?” He looked at his daughter. “What party?”
“At sunny school,” Poppy replied.
That had been today, he realized. But he hadn’t intended for it to be an ongoing thing. When Tessa brought up the subject, it had seemed harmless, a onetime outing. “What’s she talking about?”
Tessa cleared her throat. “The teacher gave her a handout. The younger grades are having a little party on Saturday. Should be fun with lots of kids.”
He frowned. “I didn’t sign on for a series of church events.”
Poppy’s lower lip began to quiver. “I wanna go, Daddy.”
His throat tightened. There was little in the world he could deny her. “I have to think about it.”
“It’s time for bed,” Dorothy said only a moment later, preempting tears and hurt feelings. “Freckles looks sleepy.”
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