Total pages in book: 143
Estimated words: 132834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 132834 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 664(@200wpm)___ 531(@250wpm)___ 443(@300wpm)
And so we went on, Nicky nailing almost every clue, with only a few hints from me, until he ended up in the scullery. Even in the dimming light from the windows, I noted with pride that every surface in here sparkled. I was too well trained to leave behind a dirty dish or countertop.
Nicky turned in a slow circle, looked back at the clue again, and when the answer sparked in his mind, he lurched for the faucet. From behind it, he drew a slightly beat-up Pikachu Pokemon card.
“It’s a Pikachu!” he shouted, “But I’ve never seen this one.” His voice trailed off in confusion.
“It’s a, uh—” I cleared my throat. “It was mine when I was your age.”
Savannah turned worried eyes to me. Under her breath, she said, “Finn, you can’t. I mean, that must be valuable.”
“It’s not,” I said, just as quietly. “Not the way you mean. It’s a little too beat-up to be worth real money. It’s sentimental, but it’s just rotting away upstairs, and I figured Nicky would appreciate it.”
I shifted under the concern in her gaze, suddenly wishing I was anywhere else. Didn’t I have dinner to finish? I wanted to pass the card off as no big deal, but Nicky’s reaction was clear. The card was a big deal, and we all knew it.
Still, we didn’t have to make a thing about it. Couldn’t I do something nice without everyone freaking out?
“Oh, man, this is so cool.” Nicky turned the card over, studying every detail. “August is gonna be so jealous.” He turned his face up to me, tugging at his mask until his eyes slid into view through the mask. “I’m not trading this one, Mr. Finn. No way. This one I’m keeping forever.”
He threw his arms around my waist in a tight hug. I dropped my hand to give him an awkward pat on the top of his fuzzy yellow head before giving in to the urge to squeeze his shoulder. “You’re welcome, Nicky. Now, uh, listen, don’t eat too much of that candy right now. It won’t feel good on your throat.”
“I won’t,” he shouted, running out of the room and back toward the main kitchen, probably to tear off his mask and dive into the bags stuffed with candy.
That had been easy. I’m not saying parenting is easy. The circles under Savannah’s eyes would have told me it wasn’t, even if I couldn’t guess for myself. But making Nicky happy? Saving his Halloween? No big deal. A few hours of my time, and in return, I got that huge smile and that hug.
From my end, it was well worth it, and that tugged at me. It wasn’t that hard to make a kid happy. So why had no one ever bothered with me? After my mother died, I disappeared into the background. Prentice had been done with parenting, and there hadn’t really been anyone else. Miss Martha loved me, but she wasn’t my mom, and we’d both known that if she showed any of us too much attention, Prentice would have gotten rid of her. In his world, family and staff did not mix.
Back then, the only time anyone showed me any attention was when I was causing trouble. Was it any surprise I’d grown into an asshole of a teenager? I’d always thought it must have been too hard, too much work to bother with me. Watching Nicky run through the kitchen, I had to face the uncomfortable truth that it really wasn’t that hard to give a kid some attention. All it took was someone willing to go just a little bit out of their way. When it had come to me, no one had cared enough to put in the time. Savannah’s voice pulled me from memories I’d just as soon forget.
“Finn, that was, uh— That was really sweet of you. I appreciate it.” Savannah sounded at a loss for words for the first time in her life.
I shifted, avoiding her eyes. There was that word again. Sweet. Ugh. “Yeah, it’s fine. It was just, you know, he was so upset about missing Halloween, and I didn’t— I just wanted to help out.”
“You did. This was, uh, this was amazing. I, um, thank you. Really.”
You could have cut the awkwardness with a knife. Suddenly, the scullery was far too small for two people. A little insane since we used to have a staff of four in here back in the day, but never mind. It was way too small for Savannah and me.
It was bad enough for the others to call me sweet. Hearing it from Savannah? No. She was the last person who should ever think I was sweet. Given the way I’d treated her when we were kids, she shouldn’t be able to get her lips to form the word sweet if it was aimed in my direction.