“And Ms. Peterson says next week we’re going to learn about habitats,” Quinn continues as we reach the parking lot.
Without hesitation, she reaches for Emily’s hand, her small fingers curling around Emily’s larger ones with complete trust.
Emily gives Quinn’s hand a gentle squeeze as they wait for a car to pass before we head toward my car. “What kind of habitats?”
“Forests and oceans and deserts. I hope we learn about tide pools. That’s where all the best creatures live.”
Quinn swings her arm with Emily’s as we head toward my car, and continues talking after I buckle her into the booster seat in the back, and we join the line of exiting cars.
“Guess what?” Quinn says, wriggling in her seat. “Jamie can name all the sharks! Even the deep ocean ones with the light-up parts! She has a book with pictures. She said she’d show me on Monday.”
“Sounds like you made a friend,” I say, happy at this development.
Quinn bounces with excitement. “She sits next to me at lunch. She has a sister in third grade and a cat named Bagel.”
Emily laughs. “Bagel is an excellent name for a cat.”
“That’s what I said!” Quinn squeals. “And she invited me to her birthday party next month, and Uncle Blake said I can go if they let me bring Sprinkles, because crowds are scary.”
My heart swells at this evidence of Quinn’s social progress.
“You’ll have to introduce Sprinkles to Jamie’s mom and see how it goes,” Emily responds. “Cats and dogs don’t always get along.”
“That’s what Uncle Blake said, even though Sprinkles is well-behaved.”
Quinn continues to chatter, carrying the conversation with minimal input needed from either of the adults in the car, and is still talking when I park at the curb on Harbor Street.
The bookshop sits halfway down the street, its blue awning visible from our parking spot.
Quinn spots it through the windshield and unbuckles her seatbelt.
“Wait for me to come open your door,” I remind her before she can grab for the handle.
I check the street before popping open my door and hurrying around the front of the car. Emily waits until I’m on the sidewalk to climb out, and the second I open Quinn’s door, the little girl bolts for freedom, Sprinkles clambering after her.
Quinn grabs Emily’s hand again, tugging her forward. “I can’t wait to show you my favorite section!”
I hang back, letting them walk ahead of me, Quinn now gesturing wildly while Emily listens.
Quinn turns back, waving for me to catch up. “Come on, Mr. Leif! We need to get there before they close the reading corner!”
I lengthen my stride to join them, falling into step beside Emily as Quinn darts ahead, Sprinkles staying at her side.
“She’s never this animated after school,” I murmur to Emily. “Usually she’s drained from the social effort.”
Emily smiles, and once again, I’m reminded of what a beautiful woman she is. “Quinn knows she’s safe with you.”
“With us,” I correct before I can overthink the implications. “She’s safe with us.”
Emily turns toward me with a flash of emotion there and gone too quickly to name. Before she can answer, Quinn calls from the bookstore entrance, palms pressed flat on the glass.
“Hurry up, slowpokes! The books are waiting!”
Emily’s lips curve upward. “Can’t keep the books waiting.”
The bell above the door chimes as we enter Pinecrest Books, releasing the scent of paper, coffee, and wood polish. Quinn dashes toward the children’s section, Sprinkles maintaining perfect heel position despite her excited pace.
Warm lighting from copper fixtures brightens the store, while ceiling-high bookshelves create miniature rooms throughout the space. Quiet conversations buzz beneath the classical music piped in through the speakers.