Upstairs, Preston found Abby in the hallway bathroom. She wore her nightgown over her jeans, and her hair was pulled back from her face with a plastic tiara, the remnant of another Halloween costume from years past. When Preston peeked through the open bathroom door, Abby turned from the sink and grinned around a mouth full of toothpaste. “Brushing!” she said proudly, her voice muffled.
“Keep at it,” he told her. “I like the crown.”
Abby rolled her eyes and spit into the sink. “It’s a tiara, Daddy.” The tone she took might as well have added, Don’t you know anything?
With a grin, Preston asked, “What’s the difference?” Sometimes he liked to toy with her, to see what her answers would be. She could come up with some pretty inventive stuff.
Holding back her long hair so it wouldn’t fall
