Page 29 of A Simple Regret

But we did other things together. We crafted. Mom is a wonderful artist, and we’d spend hours together, drawing, coloring, creating gifts, and making memories.

The timer sounds, so I grab a mitt and pull the tray from the oven. I place it on the stove and give it a minute to sit, placing a strip of parchment paper on the counter for the cookies to cool on. Then, I retrieve a spatula and carefully remove the freshly baked cookies from the pan, and when all twelve of them are off, I grab a glass.

This is another one of Linda’s tricks.

A perfectly circular cookie.

When you scoop them off the pan, usually the shape changes, so while they’re still hot, if you place a glass over the cookie and carefully make a steady, rotary motion, you can reshape the cookies into perfect circles.

I place the rest of the balls of dough on the pan and replace it in the oven, setting the timer for another ten minutes. While I wait, I flip a load of laundry from the washer to the dryer and tidy up around the small back entryway space.

Finally, the second batch of cookies is done and cooling on the counter, and even though the first ones are still warm, I go ahead and start packaging them up to take to my neighbor. I wonder if he still likes M&M cookies, or if he’s discovered a new favorite in the last seven years. This might be all in vain, but I want to try to offer a bit of thanks for his generosity and time.

“Theo, are you ready?” I ask, walking into the living room to turn off the TV. I know we’ll only be gone a minute, but I don’t like to leave electronics on while I’m not home.

He jumps up from his chair and drops his juice cup on the floor. Thank goodness for leak-proof lids. “No, sir. Your cup goes on the table, not the floor.”

He picks it up and sets it on the coffee table, and thankfully he did it gently. Not that the tables in my living room are nice, but I’m trying to teach him to take care of everything we have, not just the items that have a greater monetary value.

We go to the back door and take a few minutes to put on our snow boots, coats, gloves, and hats. Even though it’s a short trip, the freshly fallen snow last night does add an extra layer of complication to move from our place to his.

“I carry,” he says, holding out his glove-covered hands for the container of cookies.

“How about I carry it over to his house, and then you can give it to him?” I suggest, hoping he agrees. Not that I don’t want him to carry it, but I know how Theo is now and how easily he can get distracted. He’ll want to play and could very well drop the cookies as he’s monkeying around.

“Okay,” he agrees, anxiously waiting at the door.

“Stay with me, please.”

We exit the back door, and out of habit, I lock the door. I’m sure it would be fine, just to take a minute to walk next door, but I’ll never risk Theo’s safety.

We walk across the driveway, which could use a bit of shoveling, but fortunately, it’s not too deep. I should ask my dad for a name of someone who can plow the driveway for me when it does get deep. I can’t be out here shoveling the entire driveway by myself. The sidewalks and steps, sure, but not the length of the driveway.

I realize immediately Camden is in his garage. Not only is there light shining through the side door, but there’s noise coming from within. It sounds like a grinder of some sort, and I start to reconsider our drop-in. He’s busy, working, and it’s rude just to show up at his doorstep, especially when I already wrecked his Thursday night last night. Now, I’m causing him to stop working a second time, even for just a minute or two.

But I know Theo won’t be happy with just walking away now. I have no other choice but to knock on this door and interrupt him. Hopefully the M&M cookies will make the disruption a little more bearable.

Lifting my hand, I give my knuckles a firm rap against the door. Instantly, I realize he’s not going to hear me, not with the grinder going. Taking a deep breath, I reach for the knob and give it a turn. It moves, letting me know it’s not locked. Hesitantly, I peek inside the garage, my eyes scanning to see where Camden is working.

Before I have an opportunity to politely make our appearance known, Theo pushes open the door and hollers, “Cam! I here!”

Cam is sitting on a stool, grinding on a fender of an old truck. I’m not sure when he got this thing in here, because this truck wasn’t here last night, and I didn’t see or hear it being brought in after work. He spins around and turns off the grinder, his eyes colliding with mine in a wave of fresh emotion that is both haunting and freeing.

As if he needs to look away fast, he turns his attention to Theo. “Hey, buddy.” He spins on his stool and sets the grinder on the concrete.

Theo starts to run toward him but stops himself only a few steps away from the door. He points at the container in my hand, silently asking permission to take the cookies.

Handing it over, I remind him, “Be careful so you don’t break them.”

He nods and makes a beeline straight to where Camden is sitting. “Cookies for you,” he states, holding out the container.

“For me? You made me cookies?”

Theo nods insistently, a big grin on his little face.

I shut the door behind me, keeping the cold out of the garage, and lean against the door. I don’t want to push myself into his space, despite just showing up unannounced. My goal is just to drop by quickly and leave him to his Friday night.

Camden opens the lid and seems to just stare at the contents. He clears his throat and asks, “You made me M&M cookies?” He keeps his attention on Theo, but I know the question is for me.