Pip, the clever little minx, had mentioned a few days earlier that since they were staying with Uncle Victor, they’d probably be able to go to Disney World with the jar money. Belle hadhowled with laughter, and while Victor had growled…he hadn’t disagreed.
“Fuck,” Victor grumbled, reaching for his wallet. He scowled when he looked inside, then pulled out a twenty. “That should cover me for the next couple of hours.”
Belle laughed. “You’re as bad as your sister.”
Victor shrugged. “We come by it honest. Our dad was a retired Marine, and he cussed like a sailor. It didn’t matter how many times our mom chastised him for it. Fortunately for him, Viv and I didn’t pick up the habit of dropping F-bombs until middle school, and never within Mom’s hearing. So, what should we have for dinners this week?”
She and Victor spent a half hour creating a menu and then the grocery list. As expected, Pip didn’t return, but as she was only across the foyer and they could hear her singing loudly as she colored her picture, they knew she was okay.
“Pip,” Belle called out once they were done. “Ready to head to the store?”
Pip darted into the kitchen, holding out her masterpiece. “Look! It’s us! I want to mail it to Mommy.”
Belle took the piece of paper, smiling at Pip’s drawing. In it, she’d drawn herself perched on top of her uncle’s shoulders, while Belle stood next to them with a bright-red crayon smile. In the background was a decent representation of Victor’s backyard—Pip’s favorite part of his house—complete with the pool, pool house, and the giant dragon floatie Victor had bought her for this summer.
“Can you help me send it?” Pip asked Victor.
He took the picture from her, studying it. “Your mom will love it. We can put it in the mail tomorrow morning. The mail carrier has already come today.”
“Okay,” Pip said. “We can put it on the frigerator until then.”
“Refrigerator,” Belle corrected, even though Pip always forgot the first syllable.
“Sounds good.” Victor placed the drawing in the middle of his refrigerator door with the photo magnet Pip had given her uncle for Christmas. It was a picture of her sitting on Santa’s lap. “There. You’re quite the artist, squirt,” he said, ruffling Pip’s hair affectionately. “Let’s get your shoes on and we’ll head out.”
Twenty minutes later, Belle found herself walking through the produce section with Victor and Pip. Again, she was struck by the domesticity of it, wondering how such a mundane, everyday chore could feel so…well…sexually charged.
The grocery cart rattled as Victor pushed it, one wheel squeaking in protest every few feet. Pip sat in the seat section of the cart like a tiny queen on a rolling throne, swinging her legs and narrating the entire shopping trip as if it were a live broadcast.
It was strange how natural it all felt.
Victor navigated the aisles like he’d done this a hundred times, even though Belle knew he rarely shopped for himself, preferring the delivery method. Given the fact he’d already been stopped a handful of times with requests for autographs or pictures, she understood why.
Regardless, he continued reaching automatically for things after consulting their list. He tossed apples into a bag after Pip carefully inspected each one for “shininess.”
“Too spotty,” she declared, rejecting one.
Victor took it from her and put it back. “You’re five years old,” he pointed out. “Why are you so picky about apples?”
“I have standards.”
Belle snorted at Pip’s very grown-up, very Vivian words. The girl heard everything, remembered everything, and regurgitated everything. It was as adorable as it was dangerous.
“You have opinions,” Victor corrected her.
Pip ignored that, then sat up straighter when they left the “boring” vegetable aisle and made their way down the cereal one.
“We need to get the marshmallow cereal,” she declared, pointing toward the shelves at the brightly colored boxes.
Victor didn’t even slow down. “Nope.”
Pip gasped. “You didn’t even look!”
“I don’t need to look,” he said. “The answer is no. It’s not good for you.”
Belle followed a few steps behind, grateful he hadn’t thrown her under the bus as the food police. Although, it occurred to her that sugar cereal was one of the few “junk food” things hehadn’toffered Pip this past week.
Pip twisted around, pointing at the box she clearly wanted. “Uncle Vic. Lucky Charms are breakfast!”