“That’s because I’m not working tonight.”
Simon drew a hand from behind his back, revealing a sheet of paper gripped in his little fingers. “I made you something.”
“Um—” Caught off guard, Adam blinked a couple times. “You made something for me?”
Grinning broadly, the boy nodded. “Do you like it?”
Adam examined the sheet he now held. Using crayon and pencils, Simon had created a colorful scene depicting features of the resort. He’d drawn buildings and fountains, figures in a swimming pool, an ocean in the background with fish on top of exaggerated waves, even a fairly recognizable van driving away with smiling faces in the windows. Two other figures—one a woman in a yellow dress, the other a man in a green shirt and light brown pants—waved goodbye to the van. Were those people supposed to be Joanna and him?
The page was completely filled with the artwork, but on the back, Simon had written in shaky block letters, “To Mr. Adam, from Simon Z.”
Adam tried to speak lightly, as if he hadn’t just been rattled by a five-year-old’s friendly gesture. “This is really great, Skipper. Thanks.”
“You’re welcome. I like to draw.”
“I can see that. You’re quite an artist.”
Simon giggled, preening with pride.
Taking advantage of the boy’s momentary silence, Adam looked at Joanna. She was chewing her lip, a habit he recognized as a sign of nerves. He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile before asking, “How was your day, JoJo?”
As if realizing what she was doing, she released her lip and managed a credible smile in return. “Very nice, thank you. I did some shopping and chatted with a couple of other day camp moms. I heard about your heroic rescue of Cami’s stuffed unicorn, by the way.”
He grimaced at the reminder of yesterday’s dramatics, and a semihysterical little girl who’d all but taken him down with a too-fervent tackle when he’d returned her toy. “Yeah. I never know what I’ll be doing from one day to another.”
Mostly he sat in meetings, set schedules and placed orders, double-checked others’ work, kept an eye on vendors and subcontractors—whatever Trevor asked of him—but when a guest asked for help looking for a stuffed unicorn, he pitched in if he could. Kept things interesting, he supposed.
“Mom said we can have pizza for dinner, if it’s okay with you. I like vacations because we don’t always have to eat healthy,” Simon said with a laugh. “Do you like pizza, Mr. Adam?”
“Who doesn’t like pizza?”
Simon beamed. “I know, right? But Grampa hates pizza. He said it’s just junk food and nobody should eat junk food.”
“Simon.” His mother placed a hand on his shoulder. “That’s enough information for now.”
“Oh. Sorry, Mom.”
She smiled down at him. “I know you’re excited. But save a few words for later, okay?”
The boy grinned up at her. “I’m sure I’ll have more words to say.”
Laughing, she gave him a hug. “I have no doubt.”
She really was a great mom. Adam could tell she and Simon had a special relationship. They were very close, but there was still no question about who was in charge.
Adam had lost his own mother a long time ago, but his relationship with her hadn’t been as tight as Simon’s with Joanna. She’d moved him place to place and gotten involved with one loser after another, only to spend weeks moping in her room after each relationship crashed. He’d been closer to his maternal grandmother, who’d been the only steady adult in his childhood.
He’d seen his footloose father only sporadically through the years. His dad had died in a car accident while Adam was still in boot camp, leaving him with no immediate family members and few extended ones. The army had become his family, and then the resort his home. For now, at least.
He’d never expected to find himself suddenly dealing with another very close relative. His son. Who knew him only as “Mr. Adam.”
“Would you like to go in my car?” he offered to Joanna.
“Thank you, but Simon’s booster seat is in my car, so it’s probably best if we take that.”
“I have to ride in a booster seat until I’m eight,” Simon clarified, always eager to chime in. “I’m kind of small for my age, but Aunt Maddie says I’ll probably have a growth spurt and someday I’ll be taller than her and Mom.”
“Yeah, I was pretty scrawny at your age, too. I shot up in high school, so you’ll—” Realizing what he was saying, Adam shot a quick look at Joanna, who was frowning. “Kids grow at different rates,” he amended awkwardly. “I’m sure your aunt is right about that growth spurt.”