The Magpie's Death

Making Friends (2)

Sam's brow furrowed.

"We haven't even been introduced!" she exclaimed, all of her energy suddenly returned. She held out a hand toward him. "I'm Michelle Whitaker and that's my daughter, Becca."

"Sam. Miller."

She gave his hand an energetic shake. "It's nice to meet you, Sam. Since it looks like our daughters will be friends, we should be friends too, don't you think?"

I have no desire to be friends with you.

Giving her barely a nod, he tried to turn again, but she still had a tight hold of his arm.

"I've been away on business the past week and had to take Becca with me." She bat her eyelashes, pulling herself a step closer. "That's why she wasn't here. It's just the two of us, so I don't have anyone to watch her while I'm away."

He grunted at the story, wondering why she felt it necessary to explain any of this to him. Was this something you told a man you met all of five minutes ago? Was he supposed to care? It wasn't like he had known Becca existed before this morning, so of course he hadn't noticed she was missing. If she hadn't just grabbed Ellie's hand and stolen her away, he wouldn't have even noticed she was there. And he wouldn't be stuck in this... whatever this was with her mother.

"You don't see many fathers bringing their children to preschool," Michelle continued, paying little attention to his darkening face. "Does her mother work in the morning?"

"She's dead."

Jade snorted out a surprised laugh at the blunt response, then cleared her throat, excusing herself to gather the children and start class.

"Oh? That's terrible! Becca's dad and I are divorced, about six months now, but he doesn't live around here anymore. Since we're both single parents, we should help each other out." She rummaged through her purse and pulled out her phone. "Here, give me your number. We can arrange a play date for them. Wouldn't that be nice?"

No. That wouldn't be 'nice.' That sounds like unbearable torture. But... it would be good for Ellie.

He reluctantly exchanged contact information, then slipped from her grasp. "I should go now, while Ellie's distracted."

"Oh, of course. It was nice meeting you!"

He was already at the main door before she finished speaking, rushing down the steps to the sidewalk. His head hurt listening to her for a minute. What would one of these 'play dates' entail? It seemed like the purpose was for their children to get together, so what were they supposed to do during that time?

It was easy to tell what she wanted. When it came to that, she wasn't subtle, in expression or tone. He shuddered at the thought, but he also didn't want to ruin the one chance Ellie had to make a friend. He had survived real torture, so this couldn't be any worse than that, could it? He would have to play along for now and see what happened.

Too deep in thought, comparing various methods of torture and wondering where 'play date' might rank on that imaginary scale, he reached The Glass House without realizing. His feet halted outside the picket fence, his rubber soles skidding against the concrete sidewalk. He hadn't scheduled any jobs this week to spend the time at preschool, so now he had nothing to do, but he didn't want to go back in the house either. Jack wasn't at the desk when he and Ellie had left. He didn't want to deal with the awkwardness if he was there now.

I'm annoyed that he's avoiding me, but now I'm avoiding him.

He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and turned, continuing until he reached the main street through town. It was early afternoon and busy, tourists and others wandering the shops and eating lunch. He could feel their eyes on him as he walked but most were passing glances. He had been around long enough that locals had seen him and tourists didn't care. Poking his head into Davies' Hardware, he heard Mrs. Davies call out from behind the counter, so he joined her at the register.