Chapter 21
The next morning I’m at the kitchen sink, tap hissing, bubbles foaming, and sponge scrubbing, when my phone rattles on the
island. It’s Friday, one of our last before school lets out for the summer, so naturally it is also a teacher workday.
Hallie is on her way to the sink with her breakfast plate full of discards.
“Hal, could you grab that and see who it is, please?”
Hallie nods, sets down the plate, and grabs the phone. “It’s Dad.”
Inside I groan because I can guess what this is about.
“Pick it up for me, honey? I’ve got wet hands.”
As Hallie greets her dad, I shut off the water and dry my hands on a striped dish towel.
“Ok, here she is,” Hallie says and hands the phone to me.
“Thanks, Hal. Go brush your teeth and then you can play.”
I lean back onto the counter and pull the phone to my ear. “Grady. What’s up?”
“Mack, hey,” he says. “So I’ve had a slight change in plans.”
Since there’s no school and I’m deep in work on the Daniel House, Grady agreed to have Hallie all day. His new employment
arrangement with his father is supposed to be flexible.
“Okayyy.” I stretch it out.
“I can’t keep Hal today. Sorry,” he says.
My palm flies up to cover my eyes, and I lower my voice. “Seriously, Grady? We’ve had this on the calendar for weeks now.
I’ve got meetings scheduled.”
“I hate to do it, Mack, but my dad’s got some potential investors coming in, and he thinks it’d look good to present a father-son
front.”
“All right,” I say, knowing he won’t be talked out of it. I never have and now certainly never will outrank his father.
We hang up, and Hallie comes back into the kitchen, a comic book tucked under her arm.
“What did Dad want?” she asks.
I frown. “I’m sorry, honey, but he’s had something come up with work with Grandpa. You’ll have to tag along with me to the
studio today. Maybe give your house a makeover?”
Hallie sighs and throws her arms out at her sides. “Ugh! I don’t want to wait around all day and be quiet . We were supposed to go to the park and lunch, and now I’ll have a boring mom day.”
I count to three in my head and remind myself this isn’t about me. She’s hurt and feeling let down. Even if it stings a bit
to be the boring parent, I’d rather be reliable and boring than fun and flaky.
“I wish you could’ve done your plans with Dad too,” I say. “We’ll leave in about fifteen minutes, so pack anything you want
to bring.”
We walk out of the house right on time, me with a thermos of coffee and my work bag and Hallie with her purple backpack slung
over her shoulder. We circle the car to the trunk to load our bags, and a call comes from the driveway next door.
Foster stands there waving. “Can Hallie come over?”
“Have to go to my mom’s work today, sorry!” Hallie yells back.
Foster pauses. “What if you stay with us? Let me ask my dad.”
Before I can stop him, Foster runs inside, and Hallie and I stand there waiting.
Hallie crosses both sets of fingers, squeezes her eyes shut, and whispers, “Please, please, please.” She opens her eyes and
catches me smiling at her. “Sorry, Mama. You know I love the studio and being y’all’s magpie, but sometimes I just want to
do kid stuff.”
I pull her into a side hug. “It’s ok. I get it. It’s also ok if you change your mind about design too. Just because I like
something doesn’t mean you can’t prefer something else. It won’t hurt my feelings or change any bit of the way I love you.”
As soon as I found out I was pregnant, this was one thing I was determined to do differently than my mother: give Hallie complete
freedom to love whatever—and whoever—tickled her fancy.
After a few minutes, Lincoln wanders out, his hair tousled, wearing sweats. It feels entirely like we’re imposing on a slow,
no-school morning.
“I’m sorry,” I say to him. “I didn’t mean for Foster to ask you to keep Hallie. The kids were just excited to see each other,
and he ran off before I could stop him.”
“I’m happy for her to stay with us—if you’re ok with it, of course,” he says. “Honestly, it’ll be easy. These two can play
for hours without a single problem. I might even be able to sneak in some editing work.”
I agree. I’d thought the same more than once when Hallie got bored and lonely on her own.
“Only if you’re sure,” I say. “Here, let me give you my number. Call or text if anything comes up. Oh, and Hallie is allergic to eggs, so no omelets for lunch.”
I walk over to share my number, and the smell of Lincoln sleepy and warm in the morning hits me; it sears unexpectedly.
“Ok, so what about bread, like something it’s baked into?” Lincoln asks, suddenly serious. “Or cookies, crackers, that kind of stuff.”
“That’s all fine. Just no plain eggs—kinda weird, I know.”
“I know which foods I can’t have!” Hallie calls over. “And where the EpiPen is at home.”
“We shouldn’t need that,” I say, then turn to Lincoln. “Do you have Benadryl? It’s ten milliliters if she needs it, and call
me.”
“We’ve definitely got some,” Lincoln says.
“I guess I should also ask if you’re comfortable with that?” I laugh self-consciously.
Lincoln nods intently. “Of course. I would just never forgive myself if I made a mistake with her.”
My heart lurches in a fluttery way.
“You’re a lifesaver,” I say and turn and march back to my car with discreet, slow breaths.
I’ll get used to this , I tell myself.
I crank the car and go.
***
Fitz and Maya are already assembled when I walk into the studio.
“You made it,” Maya says. “We got bagels and spreads from the shop down the street.”
“Not all heroes wear capes, and Maya, you are that come to life today.” I flop onto the sofa—computer bag, sunglasses, phone,
and all.
“And to what do we owe these dramatics this morning?” Fitz swivels his computer chair and looks over his lime-green glasses
frames. “This is quite the departure from your usual OCD entrance routine.”
I remove the sunglasses from my face. “I’ll have you know that my neurotic settling of personal items into their correct place is the aftermath of being raised by my mother. And second, what happened this morning has kind of sent me into a small, unreasonable, probably idiotic tizzy.”
“Get her a bagel, honey,” Fitz says to Maya, getting to his feet and trotting to the sofa. “Next we’ll have to try mouth-to-mouth.”
I laugh. “Oh stop. I’m just being sassy, and I’m good on the bagel front.”
“That’s Magnolia speaking,” Fitz whispers behind his hand.
“It’s my new neighbor. Lincoln Kelly moved in next door, and he’s got Hallie today.”
Fitz leans down, staring at me. “Did you say Lincoln Kelly as in the Lincoln Kelly, and if you did, I might just wring your neck for holding out on me.”
I grin. “He’s living next door.”
Fitz’s face turns red, then some odd shade of purple.
“ Breathe , Fitzy,” I say. “I won’t be responsible for your untimely death.”
He sputters. “What—? Who—? Where—? You’d best fill me in from the word go .”
I pull in a slow, deep breath and put on my best version of calm. “It shocked me, too, but that house went up for sale, and
as luck would have it, he bought it. He’s got a son, seven like Hallie, and naturally they’re in the same class and have formed
a special friendship—”
“Hopefully more platonic than the special friendship you had with the child’s father.”
I shoot Fitz a half-hearted glare.
Fitz wasn’t ever friends with Lincoln. They came into my life around the same time—even if only one stuck. Still, I spilled my guts to him back then about Lincoln. My giddy excitement, date play-by-plays, and of course my worries about the pairing. Fitz was a new friend, but I trusted him like I’d known him for years.
“You’ll need to catch me up because I’m completely in the dark,” Maya says.
I wrangle my composure enough to fill them in on the details of Lincoln’s return to town, and to give Maya an overview of
the history.
“She’s playing it way down,” Fitz says to Maya. “Girl was devastated when he left. She swanned about all summer calling him her fling , and then he up and left—like a fling just might do—and she got her heart broken over it.”
I wave him off. “Yes, thank you. I don’t need my personal mistakes thrown in my face like I’m not already well aware of them.
I’m probably scaring Maya.”
Maya laughs. “It’s ok. Honestly it sounds interesting, like a nice love story maybe.”
I smile. “It wasn’t nice at the time, but yes, I was in love.”
My insides warm, and it feels like a muscle I haven’t exercised in a while. I did love Grady, but this feeling? It’s one I’ve only ever gotten about Lincoln Kelly.
But all of this is far too real and far too personal to be hashing out at work, especially when I don’t know who else might
come in today.
“Maya,” I say, “want to check in on the audition tape?” I drag myself over to our conference table.
Fitz drops into the seat beside me. “We’re coming back to this,” he says.
Maya opens her computer and navigates to email. “Yes, I have the video from Collin—I just didn’t watch it yet. I figured it’d be fun to watch together.” She clicks and adjusts the screen. “The portfolio’s ready, and I let Coco at Exquisite Interiors know that we’re submitting today.”
Fitz claps, and I shiver with excitement.
“Thank you, Maya,” I say. “None of this would even be a chance without you.”
Maya smiles and clicks Play on the clip.
The screen springs to life, and our smiles fall, our brows creasing. The images are garbled, and the audio jolts, then flows
in a robotic frenzy.
“Whoa,” Maya says. “Let’s try that again.”
She closes and reopens the video file, then hits Play again.
It’s the same muddy mess.
“Are you connected to the right internet network?” I ask.
Maya looks. “Yup. Everything’s good. I’m loading other sites... Let me try YouTube.” She clicks around. “I’m able to watch
videos there.”
“What about on a phone?” I ask. “That’s how he records it.”
“Let me try,” Maya says, taking her phone from her bag. After a few seconds she says, “Ugh, it’s the same disaster.”
“We’ll have to call the kid, get him to resend it,” Fitz says.
The hair on the back of my neck stands up. “I’m sure it’s an easy fix.”
I’m lying. All my worries about the college student with a phone who only needs a single day’s worth of tape stream back.
Did we trust the wrong guy?
“I’m sure you’re right,” Maya says. “Let me call him. I’m sure this will be simple.”
Maya stands and paces as she waits for the phone to ring. It rings and rings. She calls again. No answer.
“Maybe we email him and come back to it Monday?” I ask.
“I will,” Maya says. “Maybe a social media DM.”
“Yeah, I’d check his accounts,” Fitz says.
“I’ll do it,” I say.
I open Instagram on my phone and type in CC Video. Collin’s page pops right up. There’s a new post, a small white square with
black text:
Sorry, folks, Collin’s phone took a swim at the marine lab. Getting a replacement soon. Message me here for now. Peace.
I groan. “Collin isn’t answering his phone because it’s swimming in the ocean somewhere.”
“Hmm. Well, it sounds like this is about to get interesting,” Fitz says.