Page 25 of Passing Ships
Avie walks in and sits beside us on the edge of the bed. “You can choose something within reason, and if Uncle Lennon says it’s not possible, you will be a big girl and not whine.”
Leia makes a show of bringing a finger up to tap her chin.
“I think we should fly kites,” she declares.
“Kites, huh? Do you have a kite?” I ask.
She shakes her head.
“Looks like we’ll have to go buy some kites, then,” I say.
“They have them at the store down at the wharf. It’s beside the ice cream shop,” she announces.
I cut my eyes to Avie. “I think I just got hustled.”
Avie reaches up and pats my shoulder. “Yep. Sure did.”
Amiya steps out of the other bedroom door. She’s dressed in a casual, fitted, flesh-toned sundress, and she’s braiding her damp hair over her left shoulder.
“Ready?” she asks.
Avie stands and looks back at us. “The fitting is at eleven, and we’ll probably grab a quick lunch in the city before heading home. Shouldn’t be later than five, but if we are, Sebastian can swing by to get her.”
“Take your time. We’ll be fine,” I assure her.
She kisses Leia, and Amiya mouths, Good luck, as they leave.
“All right, kiddo. Let’s find you some cartoons so I can get ready.”
We walk out of the wharf’s gift shop with two kites, a Nerf football, a bag full of candy, and a remote-controlled boat before stopping at the ice cream shop.
“Bubble gum and grape,” Leia requests.
The boy behind the glass display case fills the waffle cone with two large scoops, wraps it in paper, and passes it to me before fetching my cup of butter pecan.
I hand the cone off to Leia, and she carefully carries it outside to the bench facing the water while I pay the cashier.
Sebastian and Gramps should be finishing up the first charter of the day soon, and Seb can take an hour to eat lunch with us before he has to go back out.
It’s a beautiful spring day. Great for fishing. The surf is calm, and there is a light breeze coming in off the water.
Leia regales me with tales of dance classes and her excitement at starting kindergarten this year while we enjoy our frozen treats. She reminds me so much of Sebastian at that age.
When I receive a text that the boat has docked, we walk over to the pier to find Sebastian and Anson tying off the vessel.
Seb takes one look at us and chuckles.
“You know you aren’t allowed to have ice cream before lunch,” he says to Leia, whose mouth is stained an incriminating shade of blue.
Her head immediately snaps to me. “Uncle Lennon, you weren’t supposed to tell him,” she reprimands.
“I didn’t. He must be psychic,” I say.
Her nose wrinkles. “What’s psychic?” she asks.
“It means he just knows things,” I explain.
She nods. “Like Mommy.”