The Noel Letters (The Noel Collection #4) - Richard Paul Evans Page 0,44
doing a heck of a job. I think we’re going all the way this year.” He said to me, “You’re more than welcome to join us, young lady.”
“Thank you. But they need me at the bookstore. We’ve got a really big book signing. And it’s the first Saturday after Thanksgiving, so I’m thinking it will be crazy busy.”
“Busier than a rented mule,” he said. “It sure was nice seeing you again. Don’t wait so long next time.”
“That’s up to your son.”
“You don’t need his say so to come by,” he said. “Just drop by anytime.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Dylan said. He squatted down next to Alexis. “I’ll be right back, honey. You okay?”
“No worries, Daddy,” she said.
He kissed her on the forehead then we walked out of the house. After he’d pulled out into the street I said, “Alexis is at home with your parents.”
“It is her home,” he said. “Charlotte and Stratton are her favorite people in the world. And they think the sun rises and sets on her.” He looked over. “After Susie left, my mother stepped in like a mama bear. I never even asked. It was natural. Alex spends almost every Saturday night with her. It’s their cooking night. They even have matching aprons.”
“That’s really beautiful,” I said. “I wonder what that would be like.” I looked at him. “I was never close to my grandparents.”
“Why is that?”
“My mother’s parents weren’t a part of her life. They disowned her after she married my father. My father’s parents both passed away when I was still young.”
“Why did they disown her?”
“I don’t know. She never told me.”
A few minutes later Dylan pulled up to my curb. “Home.” He shut off the truck.
I breathed out slowly. “Today was nice. Thank you for inviting me.”
“What a coincidence.”
“What’s a coincidence?”
“All these nice days I’ve had lately are on the same days I’m with you.”
“Funny, I’ve noticed the same thing. Would you like to come in?”
“Absolutely.”
He got out of the truck and came over and opened my door. I had already started to open it when he took it, which startled me. “Sorry, I’m not used to having my door opened for me.”
“You will be if you keep hanging out with me.”
We walked up to the front porch. The walkway was lightly dusted with snow, and we left imprints of our steps. I unlocked the door. We stomped the snow off our feet, then went inside. Dylan started taking off his shoes.
“You don’t need to do that.”
“I don’t want to track snow around.”
“You’re right.” I took my shoes off as well. “Can I get you some coffee? I have decaf.”
“No, thank you.”
“All right. We’ll just sit.” I sat down on the couch, patting the cushion next to me. “Sit.”
“It sounds like you’re talking to a dog.”
I smiled. “Down, boy.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Dylan sat next to me.
“I had an author who used to talk to me like that all the time. Actually, it was Jerica Bradley—your mom’s idol. She’d always finish our conversations with ‘Good girl.’ I’m surprised she didn’t throw me a bone.”
Dylan laughed. “Whatever works.”
“It didn’t.” I leaned back against the couch. “I know you have that football game with your dad, but maybe during halftime you might want to bring Alex down to the book signing. We’re having Laura Numeroff. She wrote the children’s book If You Give a Mouse a Cookie.”
“We have that book.”
“I think everyone does. She’s a big deal. I thought Alex might like to meet her. You wouldn’t have to wait in line.”
“I’ll take you up on that,” he said. “Alex would like that.” He looked at me with a satisfied grin. “It’s good having friends in high places.”
I smiled back. “It will be good seeing you. Things have been so busy. I haven’t been seeing enough of you.”
“I feel the same. You can’t get enough of a good thing,” he said.
It felt good to hear that. “You think I’m a good thing?”
“Today’s the best day I’ve had in a long time.” He slightly hesitated. “I’m almost afraid to enjoy it too much.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I don’t want to go through losing you.”
“Who says you have to lose me?”
“You haven’t made up your mind about staying.”
I sighed. “I know.” I looked into his eyes. He looked beautiful. I said, “Do you remember the first time we kissed?”
“We were in the basement of Mark Frank’s house.”
“Mark Frank. I forgot about him. The only seventh grader at Hillcrest with a mustache.”
“And a mullet.” Dylan shook his head. “That kid pretty much