Page 23 of Worth the Trip

“Malcolm would love hearing you say that.”

“Don’t tell him. He already thinks highly enough of himself.”

I laughed.

Pops nudged my shoe with his. “Being dependable don’t mean you gotta make yourself permanently available.”

I looked at him.

He pointed the flashlight back toward the faucet. “Now, fix your mama sink before she think I got you down here discussing feelings.”

Mama’s voice floated in from the dining room. “I can hear both of y’all.”

Pops closed his eyes.

I grinned. “Caught.”

“Forty years, and that woman still eavesdropping.”

“I am standing ten feet away!”

“That ain’t technically a denial,” Pops muttered.

I laughed hard enough that the wrench slipped against the fitting.

We secured the faucet a few minutes later. I turned on the water and let it run while Pops crouched in front of the cabinet, running his fingertips along the underside like the plumbing might betray us if he stopped watching too early.

I folded my arms. “You checking behind me?”

“I’m checking the plumbing.”

“You don’t trust my work?”

“Trust you fine. Pipes got character issues.”

“Fair.”

Satisfied, he shut the cabinet. “Put them tools away.”

“That my compliment?”

“You fixed it.”

“Proud of me?”

“Don’t push it.”

I grinned.

That was yes.

Mama appeared, carrying a basket of cornbread wrapped in one of her flowered dish towels. “Y’all finished?”

Pops stood. “Sink fixed.”

She walked over, turned the faucet on, and let it run.

Pops frowned. “You checking behind me now?”