Season of Change(23)

                Grace looked at Slade’s hand three times before gripping it and tugging him over to the Jimtown table to look at their baked goods. Faith skipped next to them.

                Slade could hardly breathe, for fear of making the girls go back to their no-touching, somber silence. Grace pointed at the brownies and then looked up at him with big green eyes and a sweet little pout.

                Slade nearly tossed his wallet to her, barely daring to ask, “Only if you say please.”

                Grace and Faith exchanged glances. Worry and determination flashed across their faces. Grace waved a hand as if swatting away a bug and faced Slade. “Please.”

                One word. Barely a whisper. His heart was lost.

                Slade ordered two brownies, feeling like the luckiest man in the world, so lucky that when he saw Old Man Takata sitting alone on the wrought-iron bench beneath the oak tree, he bought the man a glass of lemonade and sat with him.

                “Weren’t you sitting here this morning?” Slade asked.

                “I was. I like watching the world go by.”

                “It’s getting hot outside.” The temperature was quickly climbing to uncomfortable. Slade knew all too well about uncomfortable summer days. He tugged at his tie.

                “I have lemonade.” Takata raised his glass.

                Mae Gardner, president of the bridge club, flounced over in a flowered dress and brown orthopedic sandals. Her shoulder-length gray frizzy hair curled like a storm cloud about her lined face. “Slade, dear, when are you going to move out of that house?”

                Takata, who was normally as slow and deliberate as a turtle on land, snapped to attention. “Ain’t nothing wrong with his home.”

                Unwilling to give ground, Mae plopped a fist on her hip. “Why should such a fine young man live there after the shameful thing his father did?”

                Shameful. The word spiraled up Slade’s windpipe, closing it off to vital functions, like breathing and calls for help.

                “Shameful?” Takata scoffed, sloshing his lemonade cup in Mae’s direction. “You and that bridge club of yours know all about shame, don’t you? Going down to Santa Rosa for those male dance reviews.”

                Air returned to Slade’s lungs in a chuckle-suppressed gasp.

                Mae’s face turned pinker than the pink sapphires flanking the diamond Will had chosen for Emma’s engagement ring. Mae spun and stomped away.

                “Dang town gossips. Think they’re better than everybody. Don’t listen to her. What your father did was sad, not shameful.” Takata drained his lemonade and handed his empty glass to Slade. “I’ve never met your daughters. Last time they were here, they were too young for a proper introduction.”

                Not to mention circumstances had Evy whisking their daughters away.

                Slade called the girls over and introduced them, knowing Takata wouldn’t be able to tell his identical twins apart as soon as they moved away. Slade handed the girls each a twenty and asked them to buy strawberries, tomatoes, and corn, and then run back to the house to put their purchases in the refrigerator. It was only a block and a half away, a safe errand in a small town.

                “You gave them too much money,” Takata complained after they’d skipped off.

                “My ex-wife says I don’t give them enough.” It was a pleasure to give them something instead of writing a check to Evy every month.