A big raise.

Somehow, together, we managed to get all the yarn put away. Granted I had to move several balls to the right spots, but she was a bigger help than I thought she’d be.

She slowed me down a bit, but hey.

She was only four.

After that, Immy settled her in the back room with a snack and some coloring and rejoined me in the front of the store. I took a box of acrylic paint from her and took it over to the paint stand while she grabbed another box. The store was half empty and in need of desperate restocking.

I got right to it, ignoring her first elbow nudge. Her second one was a little hard, but the third one went right into my ribs and made me squeal. “What?”

“Grandma said you’re having dinner with Isaac,” Immy said in a teasing tone. “Is that true?”

With a sigh, I explained how it came about.

“Ew! She told me she was going to a wine and paint place! She’s really drawing naked old men instead?”

“How the hell did she get that past you? Immy, nobody around here does a wine and paint thing. I’m surprised you aren’t doing it yet.”

She paused. “You’re right. Will you run it with me on a Thursday night?”

“No! I have a life.”

“You have a kitten and a neighbor you sext. I wouldn’t call that a life.”

“And you have a kinky old lady living with you. What’s your point?”

“I have no idea,” she mused. “Are you having a date with him though? Like more than just a neighborly dinner? I wanna know!”

“Ugh, my God. It’s not a date. I know he kissed me but—”

“He kissed you?” Immy squealed. She turned and grabbed hold of my arms, squeezing them in a death grip.

“Please let go,” I squeaked out. “That hurts.”

She darted back, releasing me from her claws. “Sorry. He kissed you?”

“Yeah. He dropped Lucifer off and after we talked for a bit, he was going to leave, but didn’t. I went to go after him and he was still at my door, then he kissed me.”

“Was it amazing? Do British people kiss differently than us? I bet they do it with style.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? It’s kissing, Imogen. It’s universal.”

“I know, but does he kiss with a British accent?”

I stared at her. “Are you high?”

“I wish,” she muttered. “But does he?”

“People don’t kiss in accents. It’s not like we’re all taught how to kiss based on where we live.”

“Well, that’s a shame. There goes all my fantasies.”

I wasn’t going to respond to that. I was starting to think she was taking after Grandma Jen a little too much.

“Riiiiight,” I said slowly, putting a multipack of paints on the shelf. “Well, we’re having dinner, but it’s not a date. I’m not sure how I feel about this whole situation.”