“Thursday!” She bounced on her toes.
“Thursday is so close,” Palmer encouraged. “How old will you be?”
“Five,” Heather said, holding out four fingers.
Palmer giggled and took Heather’s hand, helping her unfold her thumb. “One, two, three, four, five,” she counted for the Little girl.
Heather grinned sheepishly.
“I think we can put your mixture in the pie dish now,” Palmer said, modeling how to scoop the mixture into the silver dish.
“Like this?” Heather asked.
“Yes, great job!” Palmer praised.
“You’re really nice,” Heather said softly, looking up at Palmer with wide, grateful eyes. “I was worried nobody would be nice to me and that I wouldn’t make any friends. But you were nice to meandyou helped me.”
Palmer felt her cheeks heat up. “Thanks,” she said, unsure of how to receive the praise. She scooped another spoonful before helping Heather pat down her mixture. “Now we can ask Miss Price or Miss Samantha to help us put it in the refrigerator.”
“I am here to assist you Little ones,” Chef Connor said. “I’ve been watching you two and I think you might be natural pie makers. If I ever need help in the kitchen, I know who to call.”
Palmer looked down quickly, brushing the toe of her sneaker across the tile floor. Praise still made her feel exposed, but the warmth in Chef Connor’s voice made it a teenie-tiny bit easier to accept. She liked to think each compliment, big and small, was like a little chisel, slowly loosening the bricks her past built up.
“Is Master Beau your Daddy now?” Becky asked.
The two Little girls were sitting side by side coloring apple pictures. Heather sat across from them coloring too. Palmer was so happy she’d stayed. It had been scary, but she’d had lots of fun too. Becky, Heather, and Palmer had played in the dramatic play area for a long time. The dollhouse was Palmer’s favorite part of the whole preschool room.
Palmer smiled, her heart flip flopping at just the mention of Beau. “He is.”
“That’s so exciting!” Becky lifted her arms over her head in a cheer.
“So exciting,” Heather agreed. She lifted her own arms over her head, exposing her round tummy.
Palmer carefully selected the best red crayon for her picture. Maybe Beau could put it on the refrigerator when she got home.
“I live with him now,” Palmer said after a moment of silence.
“No way!” Becky exclaimed, her eyes going wide.
Palmer giggled and nodded.
“I’m so happy for you!” Becky squealed.
“Me too! I don’t know him, but you look so super happy so he must be a good man,” Heather added before picking up a yellow crayon.
Palmer bit her lip. Apples weren’t daffodil yellow. Maybe Heather didn’t know what colors apples should be. Or maybe she was rebellious and didn’t follow the rules of coloring. Palmer reached over and gently slid the blue crayon away from Heather just in case she decided to be willy-nilly and color an apple blue. That would be absolutely unacceptable.
“He is a good man and Palmer is such a good girl. They’re a perfect pair,” Becky said.
Touched by their words, Palmer smiled. “Thank you.”
“We’re really glad you’re here with us, Palmer.”
Becky’s statement was so genuine that Palmer couldn’t help but believe it. Palmer bit her lip, trying to work up enough nerve to ask the question that kept plaguing her. “Why?” she finally blurted out.
Becky blinked a few times. “Why what?”
“Lots of people have said that they’re glad I’m here and it makes my heart so happy when they say that to me.” Palmer twisted a curl around her finger as she tried to find her words. “But I don’t understand. Why are you glad I’m here? You just met me and.. I haven’t even done anything for you to... like me.”