Chapter 14
Chapter Fourteen
DREW
I ’m just finishing up a meeting with Rick and a few of our senior staff when my phone rings. It’s a number I don’t recognize, but with a local area code, so I answer on the second ring, “Andrew McGuire speaking.”
“Drew McGuire, you’d better come rein in your help right now,” a vaguely familiar voice screeches, loud enough to make me pull my cell away from my ear. “She’s trying to get Martha banned from the library!”
“Carrie?” I ask, my stomach sinking. I’ve managed to avoid Carrie Cummings the past two years, pulling out of Gym with Me and avoiding the community pool in the summers to keep Sarah Beth safe from her out of control child.
“Of course, it’s Carrie,” she says, her pitch sliding to an even more ear-piercing decibel. “And that nanny of yours is a red-headed menace. She’s picking on an innocent little girl, and I won’t stand for it. Come make this right this minute or you can forget any more work from my husband or family. You hurt my little girl and I’ll make your bottom line hurt, McGuire. You can count on that.”
“Which library branch are you at?” I ask, fighting to keep my voice calm, even as my blood starts to boil.
Carrie snorts out an ugly laugh. “Oh, that’s rich. You don’t even know where your own kid is and your nanny’s taking it upon herself to critique mine.”
“I trust Tatum to pick activities for Sarah Beth,” I say. “So no, I didn’t know she was going to the library. But tell me where you are, and I’ll be right there. I can take an early lunch.”
“Oh, thanks so much, so glad you can fit doing the right thing into your busy schedule,” she says, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “The Main Branch downtown. We’ll be right here. My baby isn’t going anywhere. Your nanny is the one who should be banned.”
My jaw clenched, I say, “I’ll be there in ten minutes, and we can discuss this further in person.”
I end the call and turn to find Rick standing a few feet behind me, a sympathetic look on his face. “I heard,” he says. “Didn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it was hard not to.”
I sigh. “Yeah, sorry. I’ll take care of it and be right back.”
“No rush,” Rick says, jabbing a thumb toward Henry, our boss’s office. “I’ll tell Henry what’s up and that we may be losing the Cummings account.”
My brows shoot up. “No, I can smooth it over. I’ll tell Tatum not to take Sarah Beth to that library or?—”
“Like hell you will,” Rick says, surprising me. He isn’t usually a profanity-using guy, not even mild profanity. “Carrie Cummings is the menace, not your nanny. You go stand up for your family. We’ll get by just fine without her husband’s business.” He grins. “Though I doubt we’ll lose it for long if we do at all. We’re the best real estate attorneys in the area, and he puts more value on good work than his wife’s personal grudges.”
My shoulders relax a little as I nod. “Thank you, Rick. I really appreciate that. I’ll try to pacify her, but if I can’t, it’s good to know I have your support.”
“And mine, too,” Henry calls out from his office. “I’m half deaf in one ear and I could hear that woman all the way in here. Ridiculous.”
Rick and I share a look and a grin. Henry’s a man of few words. That was practically a speech from him. It’s clear Carrie Cummings doesn’t have the leverage she thinks she does.
Though, honestly, I’m not sure it would have made a difference if Henry had told me to play nice. As soon as I reach the library and see Sarah Beth sitting in a tiny yellow chair in the kids’ corner, with a bright red rug burn on the side of her face, all concerns about business go out the window.
I hurry over to Tatum, who’s positioned herself in front of Sarah Beth like an avenging Valkyrie, ready to take down any threat to her charge. A nervous-looking librarian with glasses and an oversized gray cardigan stands nearby, wringing her hands.
“What happened?” I ask, as I gather my daughter into my arms, cradling her close with a whispered, “It’s okay, honey. I’m here.”
Carrie, who’s seated in the cushy “storyteller” chair with a pouting Martha on her lap says, “Your child tried to shove to the front of the line and?—”
“That’s untrue,” Tatum cuts in, her voice calm, but firm. “Both girls were in line for seeds. Martha said unkind things to Sarah Beth and shoved her to the ground for no reason at all. Then she kicked her. If I hadn’t stepped in, I’m not sure when the abuse would have stopped.” She motions toward the librarian. “Which is why I’ve asked for Martha to be banned from this location until such time as she’s undergone counseling for her anger issues and learned to treat other children with respect.”
Carrie laughs, an ugly sound that makes the back of my neck prickle. “What a liar. I don’t know how you spew that nonsense with a straight face.” She strokes Martha’s blond curls. “My sweetheart would never!”
“Well, we’ll know what happened soon,” the librarian says, pushing her glasses up her nose with a trembling hand. “My supervisor is pulling the footage from our camera system.”
“We already know what happened,” Sofia, one of the women I interviewed for Tatum’s position pipes up from the block station where a cute little boy is building a tower. “We all saw it go down. It happened just like Tatum said it did and I, for one, respect her for taking a stand. Martha’s behavior has been a problem for years, especially with Sarah Beth.”
“Because Sarah Beth has a horrible temper,” Carrie says, making my daughter cringe closer to my chest. “Just like her nanny. They don’t call redheads spitfires for nothing. If anything, they’re the ones who should be banned. And reported to the police.”
“I didn’t do anything bad, Daddy, I promise,” Sarah Beth whispers. “Not like last night with the lasagna. Don’t call the police.”
“Honey, you weren’t bad last night,” I say, kissing her forehead. “And no one’s calling the police. Especially not on you. I know you didn’t do anything wrong. You’re such a good kid.”
Tatum appears beside us, rubbing Sarah’s back with shining eyes. “Absolutely, sweetheart. You’re blameless here. Don’t worry or be scared. Daddy and I are going to handle this. We’ve got your back, girl. One hundred percent.”
“I’ve reviewed the footage.” A second librarian, a tall, thin man with a prominent Adam’s apple comes to stand beside Nervous Cardigan. “It happened exactly the way Miss O’Leary said it did and we have a zero-tolerance policy for bullying, Mrs. Cummings.”
“Bullying?” Carrie bleats indignantly. “She’s five years old. She’s just a baby, not a bully.”
“She injured another child,” the man continues, standing firm. “And that’s not okay. We’ll have to ask you and your daughter to leave and refrain from visiting any of the public library branches until you can show proof your daughter’s been through a counseling program and can behave herself with other children. I’ll be sending an email to my colleagues to make sure the ban is enforced.”
“You’re going to regret this. I’ll sue the library and get all of you fired.” Carrie rises to her feet with a huff, gripping Martha’s hand hard enough to make the little girl wince.
For a moment, I almost feel sorry for the child—she can’t help being raised by a sociopath—but then she sticks her tongue out at me and the moment of empathy fades. This kid is trouble and has made Sarah Beth’s life miserable since they were toddlers.
It’s high time someone held Carrie accountable for her daughter’s cruelty.
It should have been me, two years ago, when Martha started abusing Sarah Beth in Gym and Me.
“And you can forget any more work from my husband, McGuire,” Carrie hisses at me on her way by. “Your firm overcharges anyway.”
“That’s just fine, Carrie,” I say calmly, cradling Sarah Beth closer. “You do what you need to do. I hope you find a great counselor for Martha, and we can all move forward in peace.”
“You wish. Martha doesn’t need counseling,” she spits, tugging on her daughter’s arm. “Come on, baby. We don’t need to go to the library. We can afford to buy books to read at home. Your daddy has a good job, and you have a mommy at home who cares about you enough to stick around. Not like some little girls.”
I feel blood rush to my head and experience a moment of shock that she actually took a jab at my innocent daughter for not having a mother. But before I can say anything Tatum steps forward, until her nose is inches from Carrie’s.
“I tried to keep this civil, but you just crossed the line,” Tatum seethes. “Your soul is the ugliest thing I’ve seen in a long time and if you dare say anything to Sarah Beth or about Sarah Beth again, you’re going to have to deal with me. And I’m not nearly as nice as I look, I promise you that.”
“Did you hear that?” Carrie looks up at the librarians. “She just threatened me! Are you still going to believe her side of the story?”
“I believe the footage,” the male librarian says flatly. “And I’m inclined to agree with her. I suggest you leave without saying another unkind word to this little girl or anyone else, or I’ll arrange to have you banned from the playgrounds in town, too. My brother works for the park service.”
Carrie’s eyes bulge in their sockets and her mouth opens and closes like a landed fish. I can safely say I’ve never been happier to see a person speechless.
“Don’t let the door hit you on the way out, Carrie,” I say, shooting her a look I hope expresses that I’m on the exact same page as Tatum. If she lets my daughter’s name pass her toxic lips again, she’ll be sorry.
“Crazy,” she finally huffs. “This town’s gone crazy.” She hustles toward the door, Martha in tow, and a beat later we’re alone with the librarians and Sofia and her charge.
“Bravo,” Sofia says with a slow clap. “Good job, Mama and Papa bear.”
“Don’t be sad, Sarah Beth,” the little boy with the blocks says. “I’ll be your friend. You’re way nicer than Martha. She’s mean, and took my candy at Halloween.”
Sofia brushes his hair from his forehead. “I know! I remember that, Conrad. Thank you for being such a good boy while we waited for this to get sorted out. You want to go get a cheeseburger lunch as a special treat?”
Conrad cheers, his face lighting up. “Yay, cheeseburger!”
Sarah Beth lifts her head from my shoulder. “Can we have cheeseburgers, too?”
“We sure can,” I say. “You, me, and Tatum can go to Riff’s, and you can have curly fries, too.”
She grins. “Yay! I love curly fries. And extra ketchup!”
“All the ketchup your mouth can handle,” Tatum agrees. “And if you want to talk about anything Martha’s mom said, we can. I know it can be confusing when grown-ups say mean things. Grown-ups should know better.”
Sarah Beth’s smile fades. “It’s okay. I know I don’t have a mommy. But I have Daddy and Grammy and Aunt Melissa and my aunts and uncles and cousin. And now I have you, Tatum.”
“You sure as heck, do, honey,” Tatum says fiercely. “And I’m going to send the bad fairies after anyone who messes with you. You’re my girl.”
“You’re my girl, too,” Sarah says, reaching for Tatum.
I ease her into Tatum’s arms, my entire body vibrating with a silent promise that I will never do anything to get between the two of them. No matter what I feel for Tatum, no matter how full my heart still is from seeing her stand up for my baby like Sarah Beth was her flesh and blood, I will keep my distance and keep this professional.
Somehow, I got lucky enough to hire the best nanny a single dad could wish for. I would be a fool to do anything to put that at risk.
And I’m no fool, a fact I prove by calling off work the rest of the day and spoiling the two best girls I know. After lunch, we head home and grab our warm clothes and head out to my father’s ice fishing hut, one of Sarah Beth’s favorite winter activities. We spend the afternoon fishing and sipping hot chocolate and cheering every time we catch something big enough to keep for dinner.
Tatum comes home with us to share in the fish bounty, whipping up a batch of hush puppies better than any fish fry restaurant I’ve visited.
“The secret is love,” she says, before adding with a grin, “and maple syrup. Maple syrup makes everything better.”
“Just like on pancakes,” Sarah Beth says, running through the kitchen with Ajax trailing behind her on a ribbon “leash” she made.
“And we’ve come full circle,” I say to Tatum as I flip the fish in the pan on the stove.
She grins. “It’s been a long day. But a good one, even with the little blip there in the middle.”
“We don’t let bullies ruin our day,” I say.
“No, we don’t,” she agrees, leaning closer.
For a second, I think she’s going to kiss me, and I want her to so badly my stomach goes into free fall when she reaches for the salt grinder on the other side of me instead.
But I shake off the disappointment and force another smile.
We’ll get used to this. To being friends and collaborators in the fine art of raising a sweet little girl. It’s going to get easier, not harder. And if I’m ever tempted to cross a line, I’ll just look at my baby’s smiling face and know my sacrifice is worth it.
She’s worth any sacrifice.
Even if it means giving up anything more than friendship with someone, I’m pretty sure I could love more than any woman I’ve ever met.