She assumed, based on their conversation at lunch, that the orange children’s book on the screen was one of the ones he was ordering for his daughter. She didn’t want to butt in, but she also remembered reading that book series as a kid, so she couldn’t seem to help herself.
“Are those the books Alison likes?”
He glanced back at her, as if surprised that she could see the laptop sitting right in front of her. “Yeah. She’s got some of them, but she’s almost finished with the last one now.”
“Good choice. That author has another series, if I’m not mistaken—about a haunted school or something? I think I remember those being similar.”
He paused, then looked at her. “Remember, as in you read them yourself?”
“When I was a kid, yes.” Her response was measured and pointed. “It’s not a new series; those books have been out for like 20 years. Maybe more.”
He turned his attention back to the screen, clicking on the author’s name. “Did you read these mermaid ones? These look newer.”
“I’m not that young, Ethan. I’m pretty sure I’ve graduated chapter books.” Leaning forward, she looked at the screen, then lightly smacked him on the arm. “That came out two years ago. Obviously I haven’t read it.” She told him to go back a screen. “Do you have a list of what numbers she has?”
“No, I just sent titles. She said she doesn’t have the dragon ones or the ninja one.”
Willow nodded. “Well, I would ask for a list of what numbers she has, then mark down the ones you’re buying, that way if she wants more you don’t have to ask again. I read the phantom one to a seven year old I babysat a couple years back, she really enjoyed that one.”
Since she pushed her way in, they spent the next several minutes book shopping for Ethan’s daughter. It thrilled Willow in a weird way, being included—even if she shouldn’t be so invested, since Ethan wasn’t hers, and even if he was, she was certain his kids wouldn’t exactly love her.
After he placed his book order, he closed
the window, but there was another one open, a Word document with some kind of recipe on it. Ethan checked the time—it was nearly seven at that point—and asked, “Do you mind if I go put water on for pasta?”
“No, of course not, don’t mind me. Are you making dinner?”
“No, some macaroni salad. It’s for my kid’s party tomorrow.”
“Oh,” she said, standing when he did, even though she wasn’t sure why. “Um, the baby?”
He nodded, making his way into the kitchen.
Since she wasn’t sure what else to do, Willow put the little hippo down on the coffee table and joined him in the kitchen. “Do you want some help?”
“Nah, that’s okay. The water will take a bit, anyway.”
“Yeah, but it’s macaroni salad; you have other stuff to do while the noodles are cooking. Did you hard boil the eggs already? Do you have a food processor?”
Ethan frowned. “I should go get the recipe. I have to confess, I’ve never made this before.”
Willow flashed him a smile, going to his sink and washing her hands. “Okay, you do that.”
“I don’t have a food processor,” he told her, hauling his laptop in and putting it down on the edge of the counter.
“I’m a master chopper; get me a knife, I’ll take care of it. Oh, also, I need to know how big the batch is going to be so I know how many pickles to chop.”
Instead of answering, he consulted the recipe. Willow grabbed supplies out of the fridge, but she wasn’t sure which cupboard held the spices and she didn’t want to go poking around.
“Do you have ground mustard?” she asked.
“I doubt it? There’s actual mustard in the fridge.”
Nodding, she went back to the fridge, pulling the mustard out. “I always use ground mustard, but this will work.”
“My grocery list just said mustard, I thought that’s what she meant.” Heading back over to the counter, he said, “Looks like 8 to 10 pickles.”
Ethan got the pasta boxes out and set them on the counter while Willow chopped pickles and made small talk. Ethan grabbed the hard-boiled eggs and peeled them so he was at least contributing.