Leo's Worries Grow

The days after Dad’s trip began to stretch into a long, quiet hum. Leo still played with Sam, and Buster still chased his tail with wild abandon, but a subtle shift had settled over their house. It was like a soft blanket had been pulled over the usual sunshine, not enough to make it cold, but enough to make it feel different. Leo found himself watching Mom more. She’d always been busy, of course, with making lunches and tidying up and reading stories, but now, when she wasn’t doing those things, she was on the phone, or her eyes would light up with a smile that wasn't directed at him. It was when Mrs. Gable came over.

Mrs. Gable was a whirlwind of bright colors and tinkling laughter. She smelled like lavender and something sweet, like freshly baked cookies. Leo remembered her from the park, her hair the color of spun gold pulled back in a messy bun, her eyes crinkling at the corners when she smiled. At first, Mom had just mentioned her name, a casual introduction. "Oh, Leo, this is Mrs. Gable, she lives down the street. We met at the grocery store." Then, Mrs. Gable started appearing more often. She’d bring over a plate of cookies, or a bunch of cheerful daisies from her garden.

Today, Mrs. Gable was sitting at the kitchen table with Mom, their heads bent close together, their voices a low, happy murmur. Leo stood in the doorway, Buster nudging his leg with a wet nose, a silent question in his soulful brown eyes. Leo didn't know what they were talking about, but it sounded important, and it sounded like it was *their* conversation. Mom was laughing, a deep, genuine sound that Leo loved, but it was Mrs. Gable who made her laugh that way. It was a different kind of laugh than the one she shared with Dad, or the one she’d share with Leo when he told a particularly silly joke. This laugh was softer, more conspiratorial.