Page 17 of The Moment He Couldn’t Walk Away

They both turned to find Ally, Brody and Phoebe Duke’s oldest kid, waving at them. She was pushing her bicycle up the Becker driveway.

“Hello, Ally. How are you today?” Mr. Becker said, a wide smile on his face.

Finch had watched this kid grow from a baby to a teenager, and one thing about her had never changed—well, two actually—she loved to wear colorful things, and she loved her people passionately.

“Why are you pushing your bike and not riding it?” Finch asked when she stopped before them in purple padded ski pants, a matching jacket, and a yellow woolen hat with earflaps.

Her face scrunched up in frustration. “I got a flat tire a few minutes ago.”

“How come you aren’t in a nice warm car with all those relatives you’ve got?” Finch asked as he dropped down to inspect the tire.

“Dad said he never got rides everywhere, so I can’t either.”

“What a mean father,” Finch said. He found a small piece of wire sticking out of the rear tire. “You want me to drop you and your bike somewhere, Ally? Because this is not taking you anywhere until the tire is fixed.”

She hissed out a breath. “If Dad had dropped me at Uncle Ryder’s café for my shift, this wouldn’t have happened.”

“I noticed right off what a bad parent he was,” Finch said, raising a brow at her.

“He still won’t let me have an iPhone. I’ve got a phone that won’t give me internet access, just make phone calls.”

“Like I said, bad parent,” Finch added, regaining his feet.

She sighed.

“Need a muffin for the journey to your uncle’s café, Ally?” Klaus said.

Ally’s expression slid into a sweet smile. “Yes, please, Mr. Becker. Leah’s muffins are the best, but don’t tell Uncle Ryder that.”

Klaus mimicked zipping his lips and then went into the coffee hut.

“I bet you tell your uncle his are the best too,” Finch said, knowing this kid had it all worked out.

Eldest of the next generation of Dukes, she’d been spoiled by the adults in her family, for all that she was a good kid.

“Shall I drop you at the café?” he asked.

“Yes, please, and thanks, Finch.”

He picked up her bike, took it to his pickup, and lowered it into the truck bed.

“So tomorrow, Finch,” Klaus said, returning with Ally’s muffin.

“Aren’t there actual builders in this town?” Finch suggested, giving it one last shot to get himself out of the work.

“They’re all busy,” Klaus said without even blinking at the blatant lie.

“Are you building the extension to the coffee hut, Finch?” Ally asked.

“Seems like I am,” Finch replied. “You get the supplies, and I’ll come tomorrow, but don’t blame me if it leaks or falls over in the first storm, Klaus.”

“I have faith in you,” he said.

But I no longer have faith in myself.

Finch was practical. He’d had to be, growing up with his parents. Someone had to do repairs, and usually it landed on him and his siblings, seeing as their father was good with his hands but never got around to getting anything done.

They’d learned along the way with help from a few others. He knew he could build this small extension to the coffee hut and that it would be good for him, even if he didn’t want to. Besides, if he didn’t, the locals would just move on to finding something else for him to do.