Chapter Two
chapter two
KIRA
One Month Later
“Unfortunately, with it being only a few months before summer, we’re not hiring,” June, the principal at Apple Academy, says. “But if you’d like to fill out the online application, we’ll be reevaluating once we know who is returning in the fall.”
“And you don’t have anything available for the summer?” I ask just to make sure since I’ll take anything I can get at this point.
“No, we close for the summer, but you can check with Rosemary Montessori. They host a summer camp program every year. They might be hiring.”
“Thank you. I’ll do that.”
I take my daughter’s hand in mine, and we walk out of the school and back down the street toward the building where I parked the SUV.
Rosemary is a quaint but beautiful town and the perfect place to settle down, but it also lacks job opportunities and isn’t exactly cheap. I’d probably be better off somewhere like Houston, where there are hundreds of schools and more places to rent, but I’m afraid that’s exactly where he’ll look for me … and I know he’ll be looking, if he’s not already.
When I spot a bench in front of the building, I stop so we can sit while I make a note to apply to the school we just left and check out the Montessori school she mentioned when we go to the library later.
“Mommy, I’m thirsty. And you know what I love? Chocolate milk. Can we get some?”
I glance down at my daughter, who’s peering up at me with her innocent blue eyes—the same color as mine—asking for something so simple without realizing just how much she’s asking for. And I hate that I’m going to have to tell her no.
What’s worse is, she doesn’t understand that it’s not because she doesn’t deserve it, but because something that was once the norm is now out of my reach. Milk is expensive, and chocolate milk costs even more. And to waste money on something that isn’t a necessity isn’t an option.
“Violet,” I say, taking her small hand in mine.
She looks at me with such hope that my heart sinks into my stomach. The past month has been hard, but my precious four-year-old daughter has been so good every step of the way. She rarely complains, and she doesn’t ask for much because, despite her age, I think she knows we’re having a rough go at it right now.
“We can’t get chocolate milk today,” I tell her, swallowing past the lump of emotion that’s lodged in my throat. “But tomorrow, you can have milk in your cereal.” When we sneak into the hotel around the corner and pretend like we’re guests so we can eat breakfast, I think but don’t voice out loud.
She’s too young to understand what we’re doing, and I try to shelter her the best I can. Stealing from anyone, even a company that probably won’t notice or miss it, makes me feel sick, but desperate times call for desperate measures. And the fact is, I’m more than desperate.
“Okay,” she says softly, her lips turning down into the saddest pout. “Can we go play at the park?”
“That we can do,” I tell her with a smile that forces one out of her as well. “Let’s go back to the car and eat lunch, and then we’ll go to the park.”
She nods in agreement, and we’re about to stand when a woman walks over and sits on the bench next to us. Normally, I wouldn’t eavesdrop, but what she says gets my attention.
“I understand there’s a shortage in childcare providers. Yes, I know.” She sighs. “Well, if you do happen to know of someone looking to work part-time. Yes, thank you. Have a good day.”
The woman removes the phone from her ear, and I catch her sparkling diamond ring on her left finger. It has a princess-cut stone in the center, like the one I had—and pawned—but hers is bigger and more expensive.
She’s dressed in a beautiful blue-and-cream floral wrap dress, and when she recrosses her legs, her blue pumps with the red soles catch my attention, invoking a flashback from before .
“I’ve given you everything you could ever want, and this is how you repay me.” He grabbed one of my navy-blue Louboutin heels from the floor and flung it across the room, barely missing my head.
“I didn’t want to be rude,” I explained calmly. “When he asked for my number to schedule a playdate, I offered to take his instead so he wouldn’t have my number. I was going to delete it.”
“You’re lying!” he barked. “Admit you were planning to cheat on me.”
A loud sigh brings me back into the present as the woman next to me looks up at the sky like it will somehow have all the answers.
I hate to tell you this, but it doesn’t.
I know because I’ve spent the past several weeks staring up at the same sky, hoping it will give me some kind of guidance. And I’m still as lost as I was a month ago.
“I swear it gets hotter every day,” the woman says, glancing over at me.
Her manicured hand goes to her belly, and it’s then I realize she’s pregnant.
“It does,” I agree. “How far along are you?”
“Seven months,” she says with a small smile. “Although, in this heat, I feel like I’m past due.”
“My daughter was born in July. The last couple of months of my pregnancy were brutal. I think I took, like, four showers a day.”
We both chuckle, and then she says, “Well, I’d better get back in there.”
She nods toward the building behind us and then places her hands on the bench, as if needing to mentally and physically prepare to stand. “Need to pull a childcare provider out of a hat.”
Her words remind me of the conversation she was having when she first sat down.
“I, um … I have a degree in early childhood education, and I’m certified in childhood development.”
She glances from me to my daughter, who’s leaning against me, watching the conversation take place. We’ve been to enough places of business that she’s learned to have patience while I talk since I have no choice but to bring her along to every interview.
“I’m Kira,” I tell her. “And this is my daughter, Violet.”
“Nice to meet you,” the woman says. “I’m Ana.”
“Mommy, can we go to the park?” Violet asks, looking up at me.
“Yes, sweets. Just give me one minute.” I kiss her forehead and then look back at Ana. “I don’t know the job you’re trying to fill, but I have experience in early childhood education, and I’m currently looking for a job.”
“One of the childcare providers had to quit unexpectedly,” she explains. “Do you have time to interview now?”
A wave of hope surges through me. “I would love to. But I’d have to bring Violet with me.”
“That’s fine,” she says, standing. “I’m assuming if you’re hired, you would use our childcare facility for her.”
“You allow that?” I ask in shock.
“Of course. That’s the purpose of the corporate childcare. It’s only for those who work for Kingston Limited, and it’s discounted based on income. Do you live nearby?”
“Right around the corner.”
She smiles. “Let’s go inside where it’s cool, and we can discuss this further.”
Since I’m speechless, I simply nod and follow her with Violet by my side.
When we step inside the building, a blast of cold air hits us. The main lobby is beautiful and modern with a marble floor and gold trim. It screams wealth and sophistication, and while I can’t imagine this place housing a childcare facility, I thank the clothing gods I’m dressed in a button-down cream blouse and black slacks with my black Gucci pumps. It’s the only professional attire I own since it’s what I was wearing the day?—
“Welcome to Kingston Limited,” Ana says, cutting off my thoughts. “This is Margaret Cole. She runs the front desk, and this is Mr. Vega.” She smiles at the security guard standing next to the desk. “He handles all the visitor passes. This is Kira …”
“Miller,” I say.
“Kira Miller will be interviewing with me. Can you get her a visitor pass, please?”
“Yes, ma’am,” he says. “May I have your ID?”
“Oh, um … sure.” I reach into my back pocket and pull out my ID and hand it to him. I knew if I got a job, I’d have to give my information, but I pushed it aside, telling myself that once I got hired, I’d deal with the rest later.
“Kira Williams,” he says, handing me my visitor badge.
I flinch at the use of my legal last name and force a smile. “Thank you,” I tell him, then turn to Ana, wanting to address my last name before it becomes an issue. “I’m in the middle of a divorce,” I explain, and she nods in understanding.
“Childcare is on the second floor,” Ana says as we get onto the elevator. “We have an indoor and outdoor playground, a full-sized kitchen and lunchroom, a naptime room, three playrooms, and a theater room.”
The bell chimes, and we get off the elevator and step into an empty hallway. Ana guides us toward a door that reads Kingston Childcare and swipes her badge, unlocking the door.
“Nobody can get in without a badge,” she explains. “And only employees with the special badges can get off the elevator and onto this floor. The children’s safety comes first.”
Unlike the opulence in the lobby, the walls are painted various primary colors with hand-painted designs. Ana takes us on a tour of the childcare facility, and I’m in awe at how welcoming and cozy it is while housing the most state-of-the-art equipment.
I meet two other teachers, who are very pleasant, and one offers to let Violet play with the other kids while I interview.
Before I can insist that she stay with me, Violet runs off in excitement to play, and I can’t tell her no since I know she’s been missing the stimulation from playing with other kids.
“At Kingston Limited, we want to make the environment more family friendly,” Ana explains. “By offering childcare to our employees, it allows them to work and know their children are taken care of. Many of them will come down during lunch to visit their babies.”
“Makes sense. A happy employee is a dedicated employee.”
“Exactly,” she agrees, opening the door to an office that only has the bare minimum—a desk and two chairs.
“This isn’t my office,” she says, rounding the desk. “But I’m too tired to walk all the way there.”
I laugh and have a seat across from her. “I get it. I loved being pregnant, but toward the end, I couldn’t wait to evict her.”
“I’m counting down the weeks,” she admits. “Now, Kira, tell me about yourself.”
We spend the next half hour chatting, and I find Ana easy to talk to. We go over my experience, and she asks me about various situations to gauge how I would handle them.
When it seems that she’s satisfied with my answers, she hands me an iPad so I can fill out an application with my references. I pray she doesn’t notice that I’ve been unemployed for the past year. Of course, she doesn’t miss a beat.
“There’s no mention of any workplace during the past year,” she says. “Mind if I ask why?”
“I was fortunate to be able to be home with my daughter,” I tell her, giving her a half truth. “But my financial situation has changed, and I need to go back to work.”
“And before that, you worked at a bar. Why not in the educational field?”
“Bartending pays better.” I shrug. “I worked in childcare for six years—two during high school and the four years I was in college as well as the months leading up to me giving birth. But after Violet was born, it didn’t make sense to work just to pay for her to be in day care. So, I worked nights while my mom watched her,” I admit truthfully.
She nods in understanding. “The position is only part-time. We already have two full-time providers on staff, but we need a third to meet the state requirements. So, if you need more hours …”
“I’ll take anything,” I say. “I’ve interviewed at several places, and nobody is hiring. Part-time is better than nothing at all.”
“Okay, good. It’s nine to five, three days a week—Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. It pays twenty-five dollars an hour, and if you aren’t needed that day, you’ll still be paid. Since you’ll only have two, sometimes three children with you, if you want your daughter to stay with you, she can, but there’s also room with her age group.”
“Thank you. As much as I’d love to keep her by my side, I’m sure she’d enjoy playing with kids her own age.”
“They grow up too quickly,” Ana says, rubbing her belly. “This is our second. My son, Kingston, will be with you a few days a week. He’s about to turn one.”
“Kingston?” I ask, recalling the name across the top of the building. “As in …”
“Yes.” She laughs. “Kingston Limited. My father built this company from the ground up. Last year, he stepped down and handed the reins over to my husband, Julian, and me. You’ll meet him eventually. He’ll be the grump complaining that I need to go home and take a nap.”
She rolls her eyes, but I can tell she secretly loves that her husband cares.
“Anyway,” she says, “the agency we use will have to run a background and reference check. They’re usually the ones to do the interviewing as well, but as you heard, caregivers are hard to come by, so I wasn’t about to let you out of my sight.”
She winks teasingly, and my heart soars at how sweet she is. She doesn’t know it, but she’s throwing me a lifeline.
“Does that mean I got the job?” I ask, excitement buzzing through me.
“As long as everything checks out, yes. I’ll call you once I’m given the green light.”
Shit. She’ll call me …
“I actually don’t have a phone,” I admit. “I just moved here, and money’s been tight. I do have an email though.”
She looks at me for several long seconds, and it feels as though she’s looking into my soul. Like she knows everything I’m thinking without me saying it. She knows there’s more to this story, and she’s going to call me out on it.
I wait for her to bombard me with questions or to change her mind, but instead, she says, “You’ll need a cell phone in case we don’t need you to come in, but the company can provide one. I’ll make sure it’s part of your contract.”
I sigh in relief. “Thank you.”
After we head out so I can grab Violet, who whines that she doesn’t want to leave, Ana walks us down to the lobby.
“I’ll be in touch,” she says, and I pray that’s the truth because if I don’t get this job, I have no idea what I’m going to do, moving forward.
And going back isn’t an option.