27. Alexandra
twenty-seven
Once we get started on work later that day, Christopher is quiet. He focuses on Skye, as if he feels guilty and is trying to compensate. She got a small part in the spring show , and he’s helping her memorize her lines.
I love seeing his interaction with her. He’s funny but strict, forgiving yet demanding. I didn’t grow up with a father, and seeing them interact could be bittersweet to me, but it’s not.
It’s uplifting, and I can’t get enough of it.
But I understand how important it is that this unique relationship be protected, and I would hate to cast a shadow on it. Skye is a perceptive child, so I keep my distance from Christopher when she’s home.
They have their family dynamic, and I need to stay out of it, even if they’re constantly including me like I’m family. I can’t let myself fantasize about a life like that.
Later that week, I decide to send Barbara a selfie of me in my baker garb. She’ll get a chuckle out of it. I send it from my phone to her work email, so it’s easier for her to print. She’ll like having it pinned to the corkboard she keeps next to her desk with all her memos and reminders.
I upload the photo, add a quick note, and hit send.
Then I put the kettle on for tea. Christopher went to pick up Skye at school, so the place is quiet for now. I pour my tea and enjoy the moment. The warmth of the kitchen. The clock ticking the seconds away. Snow lazily falling outside. My manual open in front of me. I’m memorizing processes, but then my thoughts drift to Barbara and I check my phone.
The email came back. Invalid email address.
I used the email I always use for her. Maybe they have a firewall now that prevents external emails? That wouldn’t be very helpful. Just in case, I log into my work email.
Access denied.
Ugh.
It must be some technical issue, so I text Carlos who works in IT at Red Barn’s Headquarters.
I take a sip of my piping hot tea while I wait for his answer.
Carlos IT:
Sorry, Alex. Me and a bunch of others were laid off this week. How’s Vermont?
Whaaat? Why laid off?
They don’t need a reason. At will employment. Shit got real after you left. Gotta go, interview for new job now :) wish me luck
I send him a hug emoji and a four-leafed clover emoji right as Skye barges in from school, pecks my cheek and washes her hands, momentarily distracting me from the stunning news.
Then a low funds alert from my bank pops on my screen. I log in, and sure enough, I haven’t received my paycheck. Which makes sense, in a way.
I email HR anyway, from my private address, and this email doesn’t bounce back.
Hands clean and dried, Skye goes straight to the cupboard. She pulls out an almost empty jar of maple butter, the one with her name on the lid, and unscrews it. She goes to duck her finger in the pot, but glances at me and grabs a spoon. Settled on her favorite chair, she loads the spoon and licks it like a lollipop, then loses patience and closes her lips around the spoon, wiping it clean. Ducks the spoon, again. Repeats the process.
I’m queasy just looking at her eat so much sugar. Should I say something?
Nope, that wouldn’t be right. Would it?
There’s already an email from the HR Department at Red Barn, but no answer from Barbara yet. “How was school?” I ask Skye as I start reading.
“Alright,” she says, shrugging.
“That good, huh?” My eyes are stuck on the email. “Where’s your daddy?”
“Doin’ stuff upstairs. What are you reading?” she mumbles, her mouth full.
“Not sure yet,” I mutter as I’m jerked from the warmth of Christopher’s bakery in Emerald Creek to the coldness of corporate life at Red Barn. Just as cold as I remember my grandmother, the email reads:
When you accepted the terms of the offer made by your grandmother, Ms. Rita Douglas, in her will, and subsequently took on the apprenticeship she organized as a condition of your ownership of her shares and appointment to the board, you implicitly lost your status as a Red Barn Baking employee.
We look forward to welcoming you back at RBB as a fully vested leader of our great company, should you succeed in your current endeavor.
Yup. Makes sense.
I log back into my bank account app.
Christopher pays me a decent wage for the apprenticeship, but it’s nothing close to what I used to make. Of course, I won’t get paid for a job I’m no longer doing.
I have some savings to see me through the next couple of months, plus the small lump sum Rita left me in her will. It won’t be enough to cover my Brooklyn rent until I come back, though, so I’ll have to pick up some side work while I’m here, and I’ll talk to Sarah about subletting my room for a little time, if I can find someone.
Both The General Store and Millie at Easy Monday have already approached me about managing their social media and marketing, and others might be interested. Even if I’ll charge them a very reasonable fee, that might be enough to make up for the gap in income until I return to Brooklyn.
I move some money from my savings account to my checking account from the app on my phone and settle my attention on Skye.
Her jar of maple butter is now almost empty. She goes to the cupboard again and grabs a second jar, this one with Daddy written across the lid. She swiftly swaps both lids and puts back a nearly empty jar of maple butter with the name Daddy back in the cupboard, then digs into the mostly full jar.
I try not to chuckle. “I saw that, you know.”
Her spoon freezes midair. “Are you going to tell on me?”
Good question. “No.”
Her legs are dangling faster and faster under her chair. “What are you going to do?”
Another good question. God, I love this kid. “I think I’m going to watch how this turns out for you.”
“Like what?”
“Like… is your tummy going to hurt? Are you going to throw up? Are you going to feel guilty when your daddy has no maple butter left? That sort of thing.”
“Why?”
“What else do you want me to do?
“Adults are s’pposed to tell kids what’s right and wrong.” She licks her spoon, the sticky paste clinging to her tongue.
This time, I laugh out loud. “Oooooooh-kay. So, you would want me to tell you what you did is wrong? Or maybe I should take the jar away from you?”
She shrugs. “I don’t know. I’m just a kid.”
She’s funny as hell, and at the same time, there is something so mature about her that breaks my heart. I reach across the table to wipe a dollop of gooey maple butter off the tip of her nose. “You already know it’s wrong. But, in case you forgot, your belly is going to remind you of it. Come here, sweetie. Here’s what we can do.” I take her hand and lead her to the countertop where the grocery list sits. “Just write down Maple butter right there. Put a little heart next to it, for extra points.”
She stands on the tip of her toes and sticks her tongue out as she forms her letters. I ruffle her hair when she’s done, then pour her a glass of apple cider. She puts her hand in mine, and we go back to the kitchen table. She snuggles on my lap. Her unruly hair tickles my nose, and I comb it with my fingers.
She grabs my phone. “What were you looking at, earlier? Bad news?”
“Something I didn’t quite think through.”
She brings the phone level to my face so it unlocks, then goes through my pictures. “Are you going to need a lawyer?”
I’m taken aback. “Aren’t you a little young to know about lawyers?”
“Daddy always says we’re not in real trouble until we need a lawyer.”
“That’s very true.”
She nods pensively. “So, you’re going to watch how this turns out for you?” she says, repeating the expression I used earlier.
This kid. “I’ll figure it out,” I say and kiss the top of her head. Although my financial situation just got a little trickier, a weight has lifted. I’m done doing things to try and please someone who doesn’t deserve it. From now on, the things I do, I’ll do for me, for what I believe in.
It’s liberating.
Skye snaps a selfie of both of us, but it comes out blurry. I show her how to focus, and she tries, again. “Let’s save that one.”
“Can I have it?” she asks.
“Sure. I’ll email it to your daddy. You’ll just need to ask him to print it.”
“Silly face, now,” she says, and we push out our tongues. I cross my eyes, and she laughs hysterically, imitating me and taking a slew of photos. I show her how to edit them, then email a couple more to Christopher’s address.
“Hey there.”
We both look up as Christopher materializes in front of us. He’s leaning against the door frame, his head tilted to the side, his thick hair all mussed up. The top buttons of his flannel shirt are opened, revealing his dark chest, the sleeves rolled up on his muscular forearms. His faded jeans hang low on his hips, his leather belt loosely fastened.
“Hey,” I answer.
Half a smile floats on his lips, his eyes are fixed on mine as Skye snaps a photo of him.
“Daddy, make a face!” With his hand splayed across his face, he makes a piggy face, duly captured by Skye on my phone.
“Can we please delete this, now?” he asks, coming into the kitchen while Skye continues to snap photos of him.
“Absolutely not,” I object, to Skye’s delight.
He frowns, but his lips curl up as he reaches over to peck Skye on the forehead. He smells of soap and something earthy. Skye wraps her arms around his neck and latches onto him, and as he picks her up in his arms, the back of his hand brushes against my breast. I feel myself blushing and straighten in my chair.
“Guess what?” Christopher asks, his eyes between Skye and me.
“Whaaat?” Skye shrieks, beaming at good news she hasn’t even heard yet.
“Lynn and Craig are back from their cruise.”
Skye shrieks louder and applauds. “Can we go tonight?”
“Not tonight, but soon,” he says, his eyes darting between the two of us. “Lynn and Craig are the owners of King’s Knoll Farm.”
“Oh right,” I say, happy I’m starting to know who is who in Emerald Creek. “Justin and Haley’s parents?”
“That’s right. You know Haley?” A small smile forms on his lips.
“From game nights,” I inform him.
“Right. Well. you’ll soon meet the whole family. Craig and Lynn have a bunch of people over for dinner once a month. We have an open invitation. Skye loves it, and you will too. Right, Skye?”
“Are you sure I’m invited?” I say. “I think I’d rather stay h—”
“You’re coming.”
Is it normal that my panties heat up? And not because of the word he used. Because he’s ordering me around, and I like it.
I glance at him, my cheeks flushed.
“Alek-zandra has lawyer problems, Daddy,” Skye cuts in.
Christopher faces me, and Skye wiggles in his arms to look at me too.
I tuck my hair behind my ear and clear my throat. “It-it’s nothing. Skye, it’s nothing to worry about. No lawyers,” I add, suddenly concerned I’m causing her some stress. Clearly, she’s used to being in tune with grown-up problems, and I feel the need to shield her from that.
“What’s going on?” Christopher asks.
I shake my head. “Really, nothing.”
His gaze goes right through me. Is it care I see in his frown? It warms me to the core. “We can handle ‘nothing,’ right, Skye?” he says, and she nods. “And, if it becomes something, I’m here for you.”
I’m here for you. When was the last time someone said those words to me, except Sarah on one of my rare drunken nights?