Grace appeared nothing like the apprehensive worker Victoria frequently condemned.
Her locks had escaped from their binding, a dusting of powder across her cheek.
She giggled as an uneven pan-cake nearly collapsed from a turner.
“Careful! The pancake tower’s collapsing!” she teased.
The boys anchored to her legs, giggling with a liberation Nathan had never observed in them.
“The secret ingredient,” Grace declared theatrically, “is dinosaur sprinkles and extra love!”
Something contorted inside Nathan.
Envy. Remorse.
This female, obtaining a modest compensation, had presented his boys what his riches never had—joy.
He advanced forward, his footwear reverberating against the tile.
Everything went motionless.
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