Seventeen Days by Linda Griffin

Author:Linda Griffin [Griffin, Linda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: romance, vintage
Publisher: The Wild Rose Press
Published: 2018-08-17T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

Saturday, February 23: Allies’ ground offensive begins at 5 p.m. PST.

Saturday was easier. Danny lightened the mood considerably. Rick had dressed him in old clothes and let him get paint all over himself as long as he stayed on the drop cloths. She hadn’t wanted amateur help, but trusted Rick to correct Danny’s mistakes. Yes, he seemed trustworthy, not someone you would suspect of murder. Nancy, so often underfoot before, was conspicuous by her absence, but Jenna didn’t suppose he would notice.

She had been afraid having to keep an eye on Danny would slow him down, but the work was going very quickly. She could hear their voices from time to time, and once she heard Danny trying to whistle. She hoped he would stay off the ladder. He was such a great kid. What would happen to him if his father was charged with murder? Did he have grandparents somewhere?

She didn’t want to suggest Rick was no longer welcome in her kitchen, although in fact he wasn’t, but she served lunch on the porch, and the three of them sat together and ate tuna sandwiches, apples, potato chips, and the last three of Rosalie’s brownies. Danny ate two of the brownies and most of the potato chips and did almost all the talking, his usual shyness swamped by the joy of creative labor. Like father, like son.

Unlike Nancy, he liked school. He liked everything about it. Reading, arithmetic, art, recess, everything. Today at least, he wanted to be a painter when he grew up, but she was sure being a truck driver was a more usual ambition. “Your house is very easy to paint,” he told Jenna. “It’s only a little house.” There was paint on his face, and he had added a milk mustache, so he resembled an impish little clown.

“How is your house?” she asked. “Is it sad today?”

“No, it’s happy,” he said blithely. Rick raised an eyebrow, but said nothing. She liked it that she and Danny had a secret together, an inside joke. “Your house is very pretty,” he said.

“Very pretty,” Rick agreed. He looked right at her when he said it, but there was nothing flirtatious in his expression.

“But it should have trucks,” Danny said.

“Trucks?” she asked. “In the kitchen? On the porch? On the roof?”

Danny smothered a giggle with both hands. “Not on the roof,” he said.

“No, that would be silly,” she agreed.

“In the driveway,” he said. “They could go up and down the road. A dump truck and a fire truck and a cement mixer.”

“A cement mixer? Wouldn’t it be messy?”

“No, cement mixers are the best. Cement mixers are super cool.”

“Oh, okay, if they’re super cool…”

Rick was obviously enjoying Danny’s happiness, watching him with amused pride. Her eyes stung with unshed tears, and this time the feeling was not selfish, not personal. These two had such a sweet, special bond, and it must be protected. She was glad she had chosen their side.

When they finished eating, Danny said, “Thank you for the lunch, Miss Scott,” with his usual dutiful politeness and added, “It was dee-licious.

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