felt him come to life. “Can I make it up to you tonight?” he said, and she got the subtext right away.
“Hmmm,” Nina answered, stepping back, shooting Simon a coy look that all but said Invitation accepted. “Where is the accused?”
“I don’t think there’s much question of her guilt,” Connor chimed in. “Has she been tested for a concussion?”
“You stay out of this,” Nina said, giving Connor’s muscled shoulder a squeeze as she marched past him, heading up the walkway—which, she absently noted, had no weeds growing between the paving stones. Simon, with his fastidious nature, wouldn’t allow them to grow, leaving Nina grateful that he had inherited some good traits from his overbearing father.
She strode into the house and found Daisy there in the foyer, greeting her with a wagging tail and playful kisses as though Nina had been gone for years. In a way, it felt like she had been gone that long. Her body was completely fatigued, and she wondered how long it would take to adjust to the mental gymnastics of the workday. Nina paused to give Daisy some much-appreciated attention before trekking off upstairs in search of her daughter, believing Maggie’s bedroom would be the most logical hideout.
“Hey there,” Nina said at the sight of Maggie, who was seated at her small desk by the windows overlooking the backyard, a schoolbook splayed open in front of her.
“You cut your hair again,” Maggie said, after turning in her chair to greet her mother.
“Thanks for noticing,” Nina said.
“I liked it better before,” said Maggie.
“Thanks for the honesty.” Nina’s tone implied thanks for nothing, but her annoyance went away when she sat on Maggie’s bed, taking in all the familiar sights and smells of youth, toys replaced with trinkets, all of it serving as reminders that this was a girl with more on her plate than most adults could handle. “So, what am I supposed to do with you?” Nina said as she shrugged her shoulders.
“You’re the parent,” Maggie answered with a shrug of her own.
“Oh, I forgot.” Her rebuke was gentle. “So, since I’m the parent, why don’t you tell me what you were thinking?”
“I was just messing around,” Maggie said, but Nina caught a look in her daughter’s eyes suggesting that there was more to the story.
“What’s going on with you?”
“I said it was an accident.”
“It was an antique and also a gun. You know better.”
“I was curious,” Maggie said. “I said I was sorry. I’ll pay him back.”
“When? Over the next fifteen years? It’s worth thousands of dollars.”
Maggie had no answer for that, not that Nina had expected she would.
“You’re a smart girl, Maggie. You don’t do things like this. Did you do it intentionally? Did you do it to upset Simon?”
There! Maggie’s nostrils flared out and she blinked rapidly, two of her easy-to-spot tells, making her non-answer all but an admission of guilt.
“Why?” Nina said, letting her exasperation be heard. “Why are you making this so hard on us all? Do you want to see your therapist more? I don’t know what to do to help you, but you have to come to terms with the fact that Simon is a part of our lives now.”
As Nina thought for a moment, she went to pull her hair back out of habit, forgetting all the hair spray holding it in place.
“I can’t let this go by without doing something,” she said. “Hand it over.”
Maggie knew what was being asked of her and tossed her phone onto the bed with attitude, where it made a small bounce and landed next to Nina.
“Take it,” Maggie said dejectedly. “When can I have it back?”
“How about right now.”
Simon’s voice came from the open doorway, where he had hovered unnoticed.
“Sorry to be eavesdropping,” he said. “But may I?” Maggie responded with another shrug of her shoulders—Do what you want, she told him silently, and so he entered her room.
“I don’t think Maggie should be punished at all,” Simon said, taking a moment to look around and appreciate all of Maggie’s things. This was her space, and normally she would not have welcomed Simon inside.
“People make mistakes, and nobody got hurt,” Simon continued. “She apologized and I accepted her apology. Worst case, I get a new musket; best case, I can get it repaired. I was going to drive over to Wicked Weaponry tonight—I sent their repair guru a picture of the damage, and he thinks he can fix it up and it’ll be as good as old.”