ushered her through the door.
âLivvie.â Gracie ran into the foyer and threw her arms around Oliviaâs legs.
Olivia smiled, though it didnât reach her eyes this time as it usually did while playing with Gracie. âHappy Thanksgiving, Gracie.â
âHappy Thanksgiving. Are you staying for dinner?â
âOkay, okay, thatâs enough.â Garrett disentangled his daughter from his assistant and set her back. He laughed. âLet her walk, Gracie.â
Gracie took Oliviaâs hand and guided her into the kitchen.
âMmmm . . . it smells so good in here.â
Garrett tried to guide Gracie toward the living room. âWhy donât you go see if the paradeâs started yet, Gracie?â
Gracie ducked away from his grip, hopped up onto a stool at the breakfast bar, and began to swivel back and forth. âIt doesnât start for another hour.â
âWell . . .â He paused, unsure what errand he could send her on while not wanting to hurt her feelings by chasing her away.
âItâs okay, Garrett. I um . . . I just needed to tell you something.â Olivia looked at her hands.
The thought that she might quit flickered through his mind, and he was surprised to realize how much the idea upset him. He held his breath and waited.
âI forgot to drop your shirt off at the cleaners.â She winced. âAnd then I tried to wash it, and it got ruined.â She held up the crumpled wad of material as evidence, looking at him with huge, mournful eyes. âIâm so sorry. I found a store open. I figured if you come with me, Iâll buy you a new shirt. I know you were planning to wear it today.â She stopped, seeming deflated, still holding the shirt out. âI feel so bad. Iâm sorry.â
Garrett stared at her. He studied her as she bit furiously on her bottom lip.
Gracie laughed. It started as a small chuckle, as if she were unsure of what the crisis was, but then escalated into a full-on belly laugh. Garrett couldnât help it. Relief poured through him, and a laugh erupted out of nowhere before he could stifle it. Gracie clutched her stomach. Garrett laughed harder. Olivia lifted her eyes and gaped at the two of them as if they were crazy.
âOlivia.â He gasped, struggling valiantly to get himself under control. âIâm sorry.â He held his palms up toward her and heaved in a deep breath.
Gracie had control for a brief moment but then burst into another fit of giggles.
âOlivia, I have other shirts. Itâs okay. I liked that one and wanted to wear it today, but itâs really not that big a deal.â He tried to ignore the intense range of feelings the thought of her quitting had provoked, shoving them stubbornly aside to examine at some other time. Or, more likely, not at all.
âIt seemed like a big deal to you yesterday.â Her eyebrows plunged into a scowl.
âI apologize. Everything was a big deal to me yesterday. I was having a hard time getting through the files, and I had . . . a lot on my mind.â He didnât want to get into particulars: heâd misplaced an important file, had an argument with a client, and was under pressure from the Harrises for answers to every ridiculous question they dreamed up five minutes before they thought of it. The last thing he needed today was to relive that kind of stress.
A small smile played at the corners of her mouth, ruining the effect of the scowl she held firmly in place. âYou mean I got up at three in the morning to try and do something with that shirt so you wouldnât have to go to Thanksgiving dinner half naked, and it doesnât even matter?â
He grinned and shrugged, gracefully changing the subject. âSo . . . what are your plans for today?â
She held his gaze a moment longer, but then let it go with a laugh. âWell, I was planning to take you to