Recipe for Romance by Snyder J.M

Author:Snyder, J.M. [Snyder, J.M.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: JMS Books LLC
Published: 2015-06-27T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 9

Sundays were usually busy at the River City, and this one was no exception. Crowds made the time pass quickly, which Preston liked; it helped that Roger never worked weekends if he could help it. In no time at all, two o’clock rolled around and Preston shucked off his apron, eager to head home and shower the stench of grill off of his skin and out of his hair.

He couldn’t wait to see Cam again.

Abby was playing with her dolls in her room when he came home. After seeing Mrs. Schroedinger on her way, Preston told Abby to change into her fairy dress while he washed up. As he was in the shower, lathering his hair, he felt a chill cut through the hot water and saw the shower curtain billow slightly, then heard his daughter call out, “Daddy?”

Peering around the edge of the curtain, Preston blinked soap and water out of his eyes. “Honey, what is it? I’m a little busy here.”

She was wearing the same shimmery dress she’d worn to school on picture day. Her hair was mussed and tousled—he’d have to comb that out before they left—but at least she hadn’t tried to struggle with it herself yet. In her hands were the pair of wings that had caused so much consternation at school. Not on her back, they looked small and forlorn, like a wounded butterfly unable to take flight. There was nothing magical about them now; they were little more than sheer fabric stretched over bent scraps of wire and sprinkled with glitter. Nothing but make believe.

But when she looked at them, they were so much more. It was obvious in the reverent way she held the wings, so careful not to damage or crumple them. Here was a child who couldn’t walk down the hallway without tripping over her own two feet sometimes; she tore through clothing and toys as if they were made of paper, knocked over plates and drinks on a regular basis, and had been banned from eating anywhere in the house except the dining room until she could prove she could use a cup without spilling it. Yet she held the wings delicately, as if afraid they would break, using both hands in an attentive way Preston wished she would use all the time.

“Daddy, can I really wear my wings today?” she asked, as if daring to believe it might be possible. “Can I really get my picture taken with them on? Can I?”

He laughed. “Yes, honey, you can. Be careful—”

With a whoop, she raced out of the bathroom, bumping into the walls as she headed for her bedroom to finish getting dressed. Even over the sound of the shower, Preston could hear her laughter. “I’m gonna be a fairy!” she crooned to no one in particular.

He hoped the wings survived long enough to be in the pictures.

* * * *

Richards Studio was easy enough to find; it was part of a strip of small storefronts facing Short Pump Town Center, a large pedestrian mall on the northside of Richmond.

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