Palmer held up Allysa. “I have a baby.”
“You can have more than one baby doll.” Pippi giggled.
Palmer looked confused and it pulled at Beau’s heart.
“Maybe your baby would like a friend,” Sam suggested.
Their conversation was interrupted when Pippi fell from her chair.
Sam and Catherine jumped up to help her up. “That’s why we sit on our bottom, young lady,” Sam said, eyebrows raised sternly.
“Sorry, Daddy. I’m just so excited to have dinner with Palmer.”
“Calm down a bit or you’re going to come sit between me and Mommy understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Are you okay?” Palmer asked when her friend was settled back into her chair.
“Yas, huh. I’m A-okay. Well, maybe P-okay cause my name is Pippi.”
Palmer laughed, reaching for her napkin, but her elbow caught her milk glass.
It tipped before she even realized what she’d done. Chocolate milk spilled across the table in a dark wave, flooding over the lace tablecloth. Some of it splashed onto Palmer’s lap, creating a dark stain.
For a second she didn’t move, but Beau was already grabbing napkins to clean the spill.
“Oh no,” she whispered. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly, her voice shaking. “I’m really sorry, I didn’t mean to?—”
“Hey, hey,” Beau said, kneeling so he could face her. He grabbed another stack of napkins and started soaking up the milk before it could drip onto the floor.
“It’s okay,” he said calmly. “It’s just chocolate milk.”
Palmer shook her head, wiping at her face even though the tears kept coming. “I ruined everything.”
“You absolutely did not,” Beau said. “It was just an accident.”
Pippi had already pushed her menu out of the puddle. “Honestly, this is the first time we’ve been here that it wasn’t me who knocked something off.”
Auntie Catherine handed over more napkins. “That’s very true.”
Uncle Sam leaned over, using a coaster to stop the milk from dripping off the table. “Milk cleaner-up reporting for duty!”
Palmer sniffed, trying to breathe normally again.
Daddy turned toward her, his voice gentle. He wasn’t upset with her in the slightest.
“Look at me, pretty baby,” he said.
She did.
“You didn’t ruin dinner,” he said. “You spilled a drink. That happens to literally everyone.” He dabbed a napkin against the chocolate milk on her dress. “See? Already fixable.”
The server hurried over with a towel. “Oh! Don’t worry about it, it happens all the time.”
Within a minute the table was mostly dry again, and fresh napkins were passed out.
Palmer was still quiet. “Daddy?”