Small-Town Homecoming. Lissa Manley

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СКАЧАТЬ bowl fell into the sink with a clank and her wide-eyed gaze flew his way. “What?”

      He just smiled innocently. “Turnabout is fair play.”

      “What’s turbinout?” Sam asked.

      Curt leaned back against the ladder-back of his chair. “It’s when someone returns what they’ve been given.”

      Sam scowled. “Like if I gave a Christmas present back to Santa?”

      “Yup, kinda like that,” Curt said.

      “Oh. That’s bad,” Sam said. “But what does that have to do with you and Miss Jenna going out on a date?”

      Jenna sputtered, glaring at Curt. “Sam, he’s just joking. He and I aren’t going to go out on a date.”

      “Oh.” Sam’s shoulders hunched as he fiddled with the tube of glue. “My mom goes out a lot. Maybe you can go out with her, Mr. Graham.”

      “Well, thanks, Sam, but I’m not going to have time to go out while I’m here. I’m going to be working for my brother.”

      “Who’s he?” Sam asked.

      Curt picked up the model’s directions. “His name is Seth and he owns the Sports Shack.”

      “Oh, yeah. I know him. I went there to get my stuff for baseball.” Sam smiled. “He’s nice.”

      “He has a little boy just about your age.”

      “What’s his name?”

      “Dylan,” Curt said, looking for the car’s hood piece.

      Sam put the tube of glue down. “Dylan’s lucky he has a dad. My dad’s in jail, but my mama says he’s getting out soon.”

      Curt’s heart lurched and he looked to Jenna.

      She nodded solemnly.

      “Oh, wow, Sam. I’m sorry.” Curt knew how rough it could be for a kid to grow up with bad parents. Emotional neglect had been part and parcel of his childhood, and had left profound scars. He wouldn’t wish that on anyone.

      “Hey, lookee, Mr. Graham,” Sam said, holding his fingers up. “I glued my fingers together!”

      “What?” Jenna came running. “Let me see.”

      Sam held up both hands. Curt bent closer to look at the same time Jenna did and they almost bumped heads. Curt backed off a bit, but her flowery-smelling hair hung down in front of him, surrounding him in a soft shampoo cloud.

      Sure enough, Sam had glued his two forefingers together. “Er...yep, you sure did,” Curt remarked.

      “Oh, no, Sam.” Jenna put her hands on her hips. “This stuff is permanent.”

      Sam’s eyes went huge.

      Curt squeezed his shoulder. “Don’t worry, bud. I can unstick them.”

      “You can?” Jenna asked.

      “Sure. Do you have any nail polish remover?” Curt asked Jenna.

      “Yes, I do. I’ll go get it. Sam, stay put,” she said with a pointed finger. She turned and left the room.

      “Are you sure you can unstick me?” Sam asked, looking worried that he was going to walk around with his fingers stuck together. “I’m a tree in the play tonight, and I have to be able to wave my arms.”

      “Don’t worry, I’ll fix it right up.”

      Jenna returned, a small bottle in her hand. “Here we go.” She handed it to Curt and then went over and got a paper towel. “You sure this will work?”

      “I’m sure. I stuck my fingers together all the time when I was a kid, and so did my brothers. We figured out soon enough how to take care of it.” He unscrewed the lid of the remover. “A bit of this and you’ll be good as new.”

      It took a few minutes of gentle work, but soon enough Sam’s fingers separated. “See?” Curt said. “Unstuck.”

      “Thanks, Mr. Graham,” Sam said, examining his fingers. “That stuff is strong.”

      “Yeah, it is. My brother Seth and I once glued the toilet seat down with this stuff. My dad had a fit over it, too.” Dad had stomped around for days after that prank, and had picked a fight with Mom over the whole thing. Somehow that had turned into a battle of epic proportions, with Dad sleeping on the couch for weeks and Mom sobbing behind closed doors.

      That was the way things usually went in the Graham household during Curt’s childhood. Fight. Make up. Fight again. Until Curt spent some time in his friends’ houses, he’d thought all parents were in a constant war. Turned out it was just his.

      That had been a significant turning point in his life. Unfortunately, he’d turned the wrong way.

      And now, not surprisingly, his parents were divorced. Mom had done well. Dad? Curt wasn’t exactly sure.

      “Don’t get any ideas,” Jenna said to Sam. “This glue is for car models only.”

      “Right,” Curt said, trying to sound stern, hoping he hadn’t inadvertently given Sam any ideas. “Models only.”

      “Yoo-hoo, I’m back,” a female voice called.

      Curt turned and saw a little gray-haired woman toddling into the kitchen, a huge pink purse slung over her shoulder. She wore a powder blue pantsuit with thick-soled snow-white tennis shoes and sported bright red lipstick on her thin lips.

      Curt rose.

      “Miss Landry, you’re back,” Jenna said. “Join us.” She pulled out a chair.

      As she moved toward the chair, Miss Landry’s gaze landed on Curt. “Well, who is this?” She slowly sat in the chair, holding her purse across her body as if it held the crown jewels.

      Jenna made the introductions. “Miss Eileen Landry, this is Mr. Curt Graham, our new guest.” Jenna regarded Curt. “Miss Landry has been staying with us while she is in town visiting her ill sister.”

      Curt held out his hand. “Good to meet you, ma’am.”

      Miss Landry took his hand in her tiny one. “Yes, it is.” With shrewd blue eyes she looked him over from her perch on the chair. “My, aren’t you a handsome fellow.”

      Her directness took him by surprise. “Um...thank you.”

      She turned sharp eyes to Jenna. “I assume you noticed, my dear.”

      Jenna stilled. “Er, well, of course.” She smiled brightly as she went to the stove, seemingly studiously avoiding Curt’s gaze. “Can I get you some of that chamomile tea you like so much?”

      “That would be wonderful,” Miss Landry said. “Then I’m going to go take a little nap before dinner. I wore myself СКАЧАТЬ