Adam’s Boys by Anna Clifton Read Free Book Online

Maeve’s direction and then reached out to take her extended hand in greeting. “I’m one of Abbie’s UK partners at Griffen Murphy. This is my boy, Pete—he’s at school with Henry, as it turns out. And apparently I’m coming in to help Pete and Henry make cakes because Abbie’s not well and definitely needs to lie down.”
    â€œWell, hello to you both! Lovely to meet you!” Maeve responded with a musical Irish accent before beaming a greeting, oblivious to the fury building in Abbie’s eyes. “And what a lovely way to celebrate the boys’ first day at school,” she added with an approving smile. “So why don’t you three come in and start on the cooking, and I’ll tuck my niece into bed where she belongs. Come along with me, Abbie. You’re still very pale, my darling.”
    â€œMaeve, there’s really no need. I don’t …” Abbie began, but Adam couldn’t hear the rest of Abbie’s protests because her determined aunt was propelling her up the narrow staircase just inside the front door. And as she propelled, Adam could hear Maeve chastising her niece for various lifestyle choices, such as not eating enough and burning the candle at both ends.
    Adam couldn’t help his smile of satisfaction that Pete would be spending some more time with Henry in that warm and inviting home. Feeling a sudden spring in his step that took him completely by surprise, he headed purposefully towards Maeve and Abbie’s tiny kitchen, all the while listening to the muffled voices and footfalls from upstairs as Maeve fussed over her niece and bossed her into bed.
    As it turned out, his cake-making supervision wasn’t needed for long. In fact, it was soon clear that Henry was a very confident little cook. He knew where all the pots and pans were as well as the measuring cups. He knew about greasing the trays and could even read most of the words on the back of the cake mix packet. Once he’d relayed the instructions to Pete he announced authoritatively, “Okay, I’ve done the tray greasing, Pete, so now you can do the pouring and mixing.”
    Pete stared at Henry with a blank look as if his new friend had just broken out into a foreign language.
    â€œCome on,” Henry pressed when Pete failed to move a muscle. Then with a sweep of his arm, Henry pushed all the ingredients, bowls and utensils onto the bare section of bench space immediately in front of his new friend.
    Pete stared at the assortment of items in front of him, shrugged and shook his head quickly, the edges of his mouth turning down as though he’d just been offered a sour lolly.
    â€œWhy not?” Henry asked perplexed.
    â€œI don’t really want to,” Pete replied as he shook his head again and looked uncertain.
    â€œBut this is the fun part!” Henry declared. “Mum and Aunty Maeve always let me do it, so you can do it today.”
    And with that Adam felt an all too familiar sick feeling rising up within him. It was filling his mouth with an acrid taste as he watched Pete freeze with overwhelming timidity—his boy always did when life threw something up at him that he wasn’t expecting. Adam was about to interject and save Pete by hurriedly explaining to Henry that he was happy just to watch when Henry broke out with another protest.
    â€œWell I’m not doing it, Pete, so you’ll just have to—here you go.”
    Henry picked up the wooden stirring spoon and with a grin presented it to Pete. He then set his jaw in a way that suggested he would brook no further opposition—just as his mother did when she’d set her course over an issue.
    Adam took a seat on one of the kitchen stools and looked on in fascination as Pete tentatively poured the dry mixture into the bowl with some oil, cracked an egg into it and then stirred it all together, slowly and painstakingly.
    At first his hand movements were clumsy and