“You don’t have to explain the schedule to me, Isabella, I know it,” he said quietly.
“Then you know there’s no time to talk.”
“We’ll make time.”
She remained silent and remote.
He decided to change subjects and asked, “How’s your hand?”
Then it came.
Her eyes flashed and her gaze moved over his shoulder.
“It’s fine.”
“That’s good,” he replied softly.
Her eyes shot back to his.
She opened her mouth to speak but he got there before her. “I have to admit, you look nice, Elle, but you look better when your hair’s a mess and you aren’t wearing that mask.”
And it came again.
Her eyes grew slightly wider and her lips parted softly.
He took in her open expression of astonishment and finished by muttering, “Beautiful.”
Then he walked away.
* * * * *
That day, on a visit to one of his building sites, Prentice approached Nigel Fennick who was a laborer on the site.
Nigel gave him a chin’s up and said on a grin, “Dougal’s stag night still on for Friday?”
“Aye,” Prentice replied. “Annie’s hen night is tonight.”
Nigel’s grin widened. “Annie can be a wild one.”
Prentice knew that, hell, everyone knew that. Even so, he didn’t return Nigel’s grin.
“I want to talk to you about Hattie,” Prentice said and Nigel’s grin faded.
“Had calls from Fergus. Dougal too,” Nigel surprised him by saying. “They gave me an earful, mate, but you know Hattie.”
Prentice did, he’d known her all his life and he never really liked her. He liked her less after her behavior at the picnic.
“She going on Annie’s hen night?” Prentice asked.
“Aye,” Nigel nodded.
“She’ll be nice to Isabella,” Prentice stated.
It wasn’t a request, it was a demand.
Nigel gave him a look. “Never was able to control Hattie.”
He was right. Nigel and Hattie had been married for nearly two decades and she wasn’t nice to her husband either.
“You’ll have a word.” Another demand.
“Already did, after Fergus and after Dougal. She’s got it in her head –”
Prentice cut him off by repeating, “You’ll have a word.”
“Prentice –”
“Nigel, have a word with her.”
Nigel’s look turned probing. “Mate,” he said softly, “things have got to be rough with Fiona gone but you’re not… not again.”
Prentice got closer. “This isn’t about me and Isabella. This is just about Isabella. She’s here for her friend and she’s been good to the children. If you won’t have a word, I’ll have a word.” Prentice pulled his mobile from his back pocket. “Give me her number.”
Nigel’s look turned incredulous and, Prentice noted with surprise, slightly fearful. “Now?”
Prentice’s look was already hard. “Aye. Now.”
Nigel hesitated then he sighed, “I’ll have a word.”
Prentice nodded. “It doesn’t work, Nigel, and I hear Elle didn’t have a good night then I’ll have a word with Hattie.”
The threat hung in the air for a moment before Nigel dipped his chin in acknowledgement.
Prentice was a man known not to make idle threats.
“See you Friday,” Prentice said by way of farewell.
“Aye, Friday.”
Prentice turned and walked away.
* * * * *
The children had not had to endure takeaway that night.
This was because, when Prentice and the kids came home, Jason found a note on the counter from Isabella informing them there was a shepherd’s pie in the fridge, explaining how to heat it up and telling them that the vegetables were already cut up and ready for boiling.
Jason may have found the note but Sally honed right in on the homemade chocolate cake that was sitting on the counter.
“PS,” Jason read as Sally was screeching about the cake, “tell Sally I’ve made cake for pudding but she has to eat all her broccoli. There’s ice cream in the freezer.”
When he was finished reading, Jason’s eyes moved to Prentice.
Sally danced around the kitchen chanting how much she loved chocolate cake.
Prentice smiled at his son.
His son smiled back.
* * * * *
Mikey was right.
Isabella could cook comfort food.
The shepherd’s pie was delicious.
And the cake was f**king exquisite.
But Prentice overcooked the vegetables.
* * * * *
It was pitch dark when Prentice jerked from a deep sleep, body alert after hearing the crash.
Tense, he listened to the sounds of his house for a moment and he could have sworn he heard a loud, drunken giggle.
He threw back the covers, knifed out of bed, exited his room and flipped the light switch on at the top of the stairs.
The lamp by the couch was on the floor, its ceramic base in pieces.
He was walking down the stairs when he saw movement in the hall. It was Isabella walking into the room wielding a broom.
Or, more accurately, Isabella weaving into the hall wielding a broom.
When she saw him, she stopped dead but her body swayed.
Then she smiled a huge, radiant smile that started at her hazel eyes and lit her entire face.
At the sight of her smile, Prentice felt the warmth of that satisfying weight hit his gut.
“Hi!” she cried happily as if it was the height of pleasure to see him.
“Isabella.”
She stared at him a moment or, more to the point, she stared at his mouth a moment. Then she looked at the broom in her hand as if she’d never seen one before and had no idea why she was carrying it.
Light dawned, her face fell and she looked back at Prentice, admitting, “I broke your lamp.”
He started to come into the room. “I can see. I could also hear.”
“I’ll buy you another one,” she told him immediately.
He shook his head. “You don’t have to buy another one.”
Her face lit again and she declared gleefully, “I’ll buy you three!”
He barely stopped himself from laughing. “You definitely don’t have to buy me three.”
“Lamps are good to have around,” she informed him authoritatively. “Even if you don’t use them all, you can keep them in storage as backups.”
This time, he couldn’t contain his chuckle.