I laugh so hard I nearly miss the fact that half her braid has worked itself loose. Blonde curls are escaping everywhere. I reach over and tug lightly on one. “What happened to your hair?”
Sadie grabs at it and looks horrified. “Oh no.”
“Looks like you lost a fight.”
She frowns. “My hair started it.”
I laugh. “Did it?”
She nods very seriously. “It got all knotty.”
I can’t argue with that logic. “Come here.”
She abandons the guitar without hesitation and climbs onto the bench beside me.
While I start separating the tangled strands, Sadie launches into a story so abruptly I’m not entirely sure where it begins. “…and then Molly sneezed.”
“The horse?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Was she okay?”
“Yeah. But she got horse slobber on my boot.”
I glance at Emmett. “Sounds serious.”
“It was really serious,” Sadie confirms.
Emmett nods solemnly. “We almost had to notify the governor.”
Sadie giggles.
I keep working the braid back together while she bounces from one subject to another. Horses, school, a bug she found yesterday, the cloud that looked like a chicken. None of the stories connect, but each one seems extremely important to her.
By the time I tie off the braid, I’ve learned far more about kindergarten politics than I ever expected. “There.”
Sadie reaches back to touch it. Her face brightens. “It’s prettier than Daddy’s.”
Emmett looks offended. “I’ve never braided my own hair.”
“Maybe you should.”
“Maybe I should.”
She nods, apparently satisfied with this solution.
Emmett glances out the diner window before looking back toward us.
“Sadie’s mom called yesterday.” The words are casual enough that I almost miss them. “She’s supposed to come this weekend.”
The second Emmett mentions Tori, Sadie’s fingers stop moving across the strings.
It’s such a small reaction. The guitar rests awkwardly across her lap, one hand still curled around the neck while she stares down at it.
A minute ago she was bouncing between questions, stories, and declarations about her future music career. Now all that energy seems to have drained away.
“Oh.”