“Your shoes?” India asked, taking the shoe from Cal and peering inside. “I had shoes like this when I was little. They pinched and made my toes feel squished.”
Amberleigh watched her closely.
“Is that the problem?” Brody asked. “We can get you new shoes, darlin’.”
Amberleigh shook her head. “Don’t like ’em.”
“Don’t blame you,” Cal said, sounding off. “Barefoot’s always better. Unless you’re working outside.” He placed the shoe back on the table.
Amberleigh smiled at Cal again, offering him more of her newly peeled crayons.
“Not in a restaurant, it’s not,” Vic Wallace said, recovering from his embarrassment to scowl in Cal’s direction.
She stiffened. He could be as rude as he wanted to be to her father—or her. But her son was another matter. She urged Cal back to their table and sat, smiling his way.
“The boy’s trying to help,” Miss Francis said.
“No help needed. She needs to learn to keep her shoes on,” Mr. Wallace grumbled. “It’s ridiculous.”
India watched Amberleigh slump farther down in her seat.
“Vic,” Mrs. Wallace scolded, softly.
“I’m so hungry I could eat a cow,” Brody said, making the girls laugh. “Or a hippopotamus.”
“Or a ephelant?” Marilyn asked.
“Elephant?” Brody nodded.
“Or...or a whale?” Suellen asked.
“Maybe,” Brody agreed, winking at them. “I’ll ask Sara if there’s whale on the menu.”
The three girls “aahed” in unison, their little noses wrinkling up in distaste.
“We should celebrate. Sara, get the little ones here a milk shake,” Mr. Wallace said. “Not every day your son decides to run for mayor. We’ll run a big campaign, plaster the name Wallace all over the place.”
Brody for mayor?
“Might run.” Brody glanced her way.
He’d do a good job—because he was a good man.
“Time to make a decision. There’s not a single reason to stop you, Brody,” his father said.
Brody glanced her way again. “I can think of a few. Besides, I’m not much of politician, Dad. What you see is what you get.”
“That’s why at least half of Fort Kyle wants you, Brody. There’s no one else in these parts with the experience you have.” Miss Francis seemed to be his biggest fan. “You’d do good things. Be fair.”
India agreed, but she didn’t say a word. Brody would make this town proud and make the town a place to be proud of.
“And you’d make your daddy happy.” Miss Francis nudged Vic Wallace in the side, earning a small smile from the man.
India had given up trying to make her father happy—it was impossible. Besides, something this big shouldn’t be about one person. It was a lot to take in, to consider. Especially for a single father of three.
She was a single mother to the smartest, kindest, most patient five-year-old in the universe, and it was tough.
Brody’s sigh drew India’s attention his way. There was a slight furrow on his brow, like he was working through something complicated. Did he want this? If there was one thing the last few years had taught her, it was to follow your instinct.