Total pages in book: 68
Estimated words: 64493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 64493 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 322(@200wpm)___ 258(@250wpm)___ 215(@300wpm)
Whatever. I didn’t have the heart to burst McD’s bubble and hell, maybe I’d change my mind. But at this very moment, I couldn’t help thinking I needed something new.
Or something old.
Something I could only get here.
6
NOLAN
Mary-Kate wedged herself next to me in the hammock, kicked her skinny legs over mine, and opened her book.
“This is Anne of Green Gables. I’m on chapter four,” she reported.
“That’s great. I thought you were reading Black Beauty next.”
“I finished it. So good! Nana surprised me and bought me both books.”
“She knows you well.”
Mary-Kate was a pixie sprite seven-year-old with shoulder-length straight brown hair, hazel eyes, glasses, and the biggest smile this side of Lake Champlain. She was Ronnie’s only child, my only niece, and my mother’s only grandchild, which made her more special to the Moore clan than her near-genius IQ.
No joke. Mary-Kate was a voracious learner. She soaked up information like a sponge. Math, science, English…while her classmates were struggling with basic addition and subtraction, Mary-Kate had moved on to fractions and word-solving problems the kids two grades ahead of her were tackling.
And don’t get me started on reading and writing. She had a wild imagination and had already written a few very good short stories. Her favorite subjects were animals—usually horses and dogs. She couldn’t decide if she wanted to be an author, an astronaut, or a vet, but she wanted to figure it out by her tenth birthday. We suggested that she might want to keep her options open, though she knew she’d always have our full support no matter what she eventually chose to do.
The only thing Mary-Kate showed zero interest in was hockey, much to my brother’s chagrin. She knew how to skate, of course—that was practically a compulsory skill in our family. In fact, she was pretty damned good at it. But she hated going to the rink, refused to join the Pee Wee team, and didn’t like watching games.
To each their own. But it made summers hard on my brother. Thankfully, she liked hanging out with my mom or sometimes at the diner with me. As long as she had a book in her hand, she was happy.
She twirled her hair around her finger. “Can I read to you?”
“Of course.” I sat up to sip the foam from my beer before it sloshed on both of us.
Mary-Kate’s melodic voice drifted along with the host of cousins and old friends mingling in my mom’s backyard. It was a perfect summer day. Sunshine, blue skies, and just the right amount of breeze to keep it from getting too hot and sweaty. I could easily nod off and—
I jerked upright when a boisterous cheer broke the quiet vibe. I didn’t need two guesses to figure out who’d arrived.
Sure enough, Mom’s guest of honor sauntered into the yard a moment later, looking better than anyone should in khaki shorts and a Hawaiian-print button-down shirt. I watched Vin make the rounds, hugging my mother, fist-bumping and hugging Ronnie, our cousin Clay, his wife, and the usual crew of relatives.
Mom had wanted to invite some of our high school friends too, but I’d gently reminded her that her Sunday dinner would escalate into a full-fledged blowout with fifty-plus people if she wasn’t careful.
“Is that my dad’s friend?” Mary-Kate asked, slipping the green ribbon she was using as a bookmark into place and closing her book.
“Yeah. That’s Vinnie.”
She twisted to face me. “Is Vinnie your friend too?”
I sipped my beer and nodded. “Yeah.”
“It’s complicated” would have been a more accurate reply, but that would have required an explanation. Mary-Kate was a master interrogator.
Mary-Kate studied me intently. I almost sighed in relief when she looked away. “He’s very tall and he has big muscles. Like that guy you went on a date with on Valentine’s Day. ’Member him?”
It was my turn to wiggle away from her and this time, beer dribbled over the lip of the bottle. “That was one date. We don’t need to talk about that guy.”
She made a button-lip gesture she had to have learned from my mom and glanced over at Vinnie again. “Is Vinnie gay?”
“Wh-what—why? No. Why would you ask?” I fumbled, taking a liberal sip to avoid spillage.
“Because he sort of looks like your valentine,” she explained patiently. “And if Vinnie’s gay, you could date him instead.”
“I’m not dating—whoa! Where are you going?”
Mary-Kate tucked her book to her chest as she scrambled out of the hammock. “I’m thirsty. I’ll be back!”
She was gone in a whirl of limbs and a flouncy pink sundress, jumping onto the grass with a quick “ta-da” before racing away. I supposed that was my cue to join the party, but I took advantage of the leaves shading the hammock from full view of the yard and observed Vin as he made the rounds. He was greeted warmly with big hugs, friendly biceps punches, and at least five beverage offers.