Mornings by the Linden Tree (Love's Journeys #3) by V.L. Locey

Author:V.L. Locey [Locey, V.L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: anonymous
Published: 2025-08-22T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

My restraint pertaining to Lennon snapped on Friday afternoon. And when I say snapped, I mean it splintered like a tree in a tornado and not like an old rubber band.

I’d come home after lunch with Rissa in my office, a cold egg salad sandwich from the deli on the corner, a bag of sea salt chips, and a large cup of coffee, to find my nanny and my niece lying on chaises in my back yard in barnyard animal costumes—Valeria was a pink bunny and Lennon was a rooster and no I did not ask—pointing at clouds floating by. I placed my satchel on the coffee table, then eased the sliding glass door open. The smell of fresh lemon wax floated out of the house to be lifted skyward. Mrs. Polkowski had dusted today. While I had previously enjoyed the smell of lemon, I was now mad for the scent of lime. Especially when it wafted off the flesh of the man who was dressed as a giant cock.

“That one looks like a cow!” Valeria shouted. “Cow. Cow starts with C.”

“Very good.” Lennon swatted at his silly yellow beak, then waved a feathered arm at the sky. “And that one looks like an iguana. Iguana starts with I.”

I leaned on the frame of the slider, contented to simply listen to the two of them for the moment, a smile playing on my lips.

“What’s an ee-gone-ah?” Valeria asked. How either of them could be comfortable on such a warm late June day inside those stuffy jumpsuits was beyond me. I was close to perspiring just standing here.

“An iguana is a lizard that lives south of here like in Mexico and Central and South America. They are green, with big googly eyes and a long tongue that they shoot out super-fast to catch bugs.” Lennon was splayed out on the chaise, his zipped-up rooster outfit sagging over his lean frame.

“Mama told me that she was from Mexico,” Valeria commented as her tiny feet sailed into the air. Tiny bare feet that swayed back and forth like seaweed. “I think Mama says me too was from Mexico people.”

“If your mother was Mexican, then yes, I would imagine you would also be part Mexican. Hey!” He sat up so fast his beak fell down to cover his face. He pushed it back off his sweaty head. “How would you like to watch a movie about a Mexican boy? Oh! Or one about a girl from Colombia?”

“Where ՚Lumbia?” the pink bunny asked.

“It’s a South American country. One movie is called Coco, and that’s about a Mexican boy, and the other is called Encanto about a Colombian girl. Both are really good.”

“Coco and Mexico!” Valeria shouted, leapt to her bare feet, and spun around. Her dark eyes went round when she saw me lounging in the doorway. “Uncle Wes is home!”

She ran at me full speed. I swept her into the air, kissed her cheeks, and hugged her close.

Lennon rose from the chaise, his cheeks red as apples.

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