Chapter 20
MASON Team Daisy
So I was excited to see Daisy’s name pop up on my cell phone screen. I reminded myself to let it ring twice, not be so overeager, even though I was. I was getting older now, and I knew that, finally, I would really like to find someone. I had this strong feeling that that someone could be her.
“Hey, Daisy,” I said.
“Hi!” she said, her voice kind of high-pitched. She was nervous. It was cute. “I’m so sorry to bother you, but I don’t have anyone else to call.”
“Well, I’m flattered.”
She laughed. “Oh, gosh. No. I didn’t mean it like that!” My anticipation was really mounting here.
“Mason, I’m trying to foster Maisy, and they want to do a home visit tomorrow.”
“Oh, wow. That’s so great!” I paused. “But you’re going to have to give me more. I don’t know anything about babies, and I know less about foster care.”
“Right,” she said. “So, I’ve already been approved to foster, so we’re good there, but they come inspect your house before they’ll approve the placement.
And, well, I don’t have a crib or a changing table or anything.
My second bedroom is completely empty. And I kind of lied and said I was totally ready for a baby. ”
My heart was racing, and it took me a minute to figure out why: I couldn’t imagine being in a world where I didn’t get to see Maisy, didn’t know what happened to her. I needed her to be with Daisy as much as Daisy did.
“And I have four more hours of my shift at the hospital!” Daisy wailed.
Rarely was I the voice of reason. I loved that I could be right now. “Dais, don’t give it another thought. I’ve got this.”
“You do?” she asked, sounding relieved.
“Of course.”
“I can give you my credit card or—”
I interrupted. “No, no. We won’t need it.”
“Mason, I owe you. I really do. I can’t thank you enough. And, um…”
“And um, what?”
“Well, there’s one more thing, but I can probably figure it out.”
“Lay it on me.”
“I have to have a plan ready for her day care. The state will pay, but, obviously, I have to work, and I know you know everyone.”
I laughed. “On it. Go save lives. And kiss Maisy for me!”
Wow. This was a lot. But, well, I didn’t have too much on my plate today. I debated for a half second about what to do. Then I called Amelia.
“I’m putting an issue to bed today, Mason, and leaving on a trip tomorrow. Make it snappy!”
I rolled my eyes. Work Amelia was so intense.
“Well, I need your help.”
She sighed. “Of course you do!”
I filled her in on Daisy’s situation.
“Damn it,” she said, under her breath. I could hear her pacing. “Okay, so, you know I’m going to help Daisy, obviously. But, look, for now, get the Marlin moms on this. They will be all over it, and I will be your finisher.”
“I hate to ask them…”
“Mason!” Amelia snapped. “I know at least one of them has sent you topless photos to try to finagle playing time for her kid. This isn’t a big ask. I will see you tonight!”
“But Amelia, maybe you could ask—”
Silence on the other end of the line. She was already gone. I was going to have to handle this myself. I opened my “Team Reach” app that had the numbers of roughly thirty Cape Carolina mothers. And I wrote:
Mason Thaysden
1:16 pm
Hi, Marlin Moms! I need a favor. A friend is looking to foster the baby that Drew and I so heroically rescued ;) But she doesn’t have any baby gear!
Does anyone have baby things we could potentially have/borrow/buy at a good price?
We’re on a super time crunch here. We need everything by tomorrow!
Preferably this afternoon… Here’s what I think we need:
*Crib
*Changing table
*Car seat
Um, y’all know my bachelor status. What else am I missing? Thank you in advance.
Also… I’ve heard that day care around here takes a million years to get into, but she can’t get the baby unless she has that arranged. Any leads?
Maybe we could gather after school?
The replies began instantly:
Jessica Brasher: My husband would be so thrilled to get the crib out of storage! I have a crib, mattress, sheets, the works! We’ll meet you at school at four.
Cheryl Christianson: I’m at Walmart right now. I’ll grab a car seat. You’re going to want that to be new because the safety recommendations are changing all the time. She’s going to need bottles, clothes, diapers, wipes, diaper cream… A lot of things!
Heather Salter: Cheryl, stock her up, and I will split it with you! Coach, I have a changing table in the attic, but it needs a new pad.
Cheryl Christianson: Awesome! I’ll pick up a new changing pad too.
Sarah Foster: I’ll donate too, Cheryl! But I have tons and tons of baby clothes that Leah has outgrown, so you don’t need those. Maybe some fresh onesies. I have lots of cute bibs I’ll bring too!
Julie Moore: I’ll donate too, Cheryl! Also, I’ve been out of the baby business for a while, but I just painted some really sweet ballet slippers. I’ll bring some artwork that will make it really finished and cozy!
Whoa. These all came in within the span of seven minutes. And more and more replies of I’ll donate too! were coming in on their heels, followed by women who wanted to make meals for Daisy to keep in the freezer because she wouldn’t have time to cook.
I’d said it before, and I’d say it again: these moms could easily run the world.
If they were in charge, they’d have all our problems solved in the span of a group text.
But there was one thing we hadn’t solved.
And I really didn’t want to have to call her separately…
but I would swallow my pride. For Maisy.
Just as I was about to send a text, a message popped up:
Carmen: I will take that sweet thing, but you owe me, Mason Thaysden!
Carmen just so happened to own Tiny Tots, the most sought-after day care in town. She didn’t work there, but she was a majority investor, so I knew she could pull any strings she wanted. I should have said thank you, but, instead, I said:
Mason: Carmen, that sounds menacing… THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH.
Three hours later I had gone to the hospital, gotten the key to Daisy’s town house, and was sitting on the tailgate of my truck when my players began to arrive. “Boys,” I announced. “Practice is going to look a little different today.”
The moms were starting to arrive too. I corralled everyone in the parking lot. “Team, I want you to unload these ladies’ cars and put everything you can in the back of my truck.” I smiled. “And I want you to figure out the best system for doing that.”
We were volunteering, strategizing, and team building. This was way better than regular practice.
In about fifteen minutes, my truck bed was crammed full of furniture and bags and boxes. The ladies had even collected a rocking chair for the nursery and a giant six-foot stuffed giraffe. Cheryl, Drew’s mom, said, “No offense. But maybe I should come with you?”
“No offense taken,” I said. “This might shock you, but nursery decorating isn’t my forte.”
“You don’t say!” Cheryl replied.
“I’ll help too,” Julie said. “I’m kind of picky about how my art is hung.”
“Great. Drew, Kevin, hop in with me. Your moms can follow us.”
“Braden!” I called to my most responsible senior. “You’re running practice until I get back.”
He lit up. “Seriously?”
“Just something to add to the college résumé.”
I felt sorry for these kids. The high achievers had so much pressure on them to be everything.
Great academically, superstar athletes, world changers.
And it wasn’t just going to the soup kitchen.
It was, like, starting your own nonprofit and a podcast by the time you were fourteen.
Braden’s mom wasn’t writing term papers for him or coordinating volunteer projects.
I was proud of him. I was proud of all of them.
Not every kid had it all together by this age.
Not every kid was—or needed to be—college bound.
But they were all making their way the best they could, and I felt increasingly privileged to be a part of their lives during this critical time when they were figuring it all out.
It made me wonder if I could actually leave them all behind.
Drew, as if reading my mind, said sarcastically, “Thanks a lot, Coach. You could have put Braden and me in charge of this whole baby collection campaign. We really could have used the press coverage.”
Braden was number one in the senior class; Drew was number one in the junior.
They teamed up a lot for résumé-building activities and kept each other motivated.
You were, after all, the sum of the five people you hung out with.
Maybe that’s why I was getting to be an increasingly better person.
These kids were my role models. Sad but true.
“Sorry, man. I’ll try to be better.”
Walking into Daisy’s town house for the first time without her felt kind of wrong.
She’d lived here for only a few days, which was evident by how sparse it was.
The small living room had a couch, two chairs, and a TV set up on a cardboard box.
Out the window, between the two houses across the street, was a sliver of sound view.
To the right was a small, well-appointed kitchen and space for a table and chairs, which she didn’t have.
Through a small hallway was a new bathroom, well-sized for the town house, with a bathtub and separate shower.
To the left, again with a slight water view, was Daisy’s room.
To the right, as promised, was an empty room.
I dropped all the bags I was holding in the kitchen and pointed for the boys to put the crib they were carrying in there.
Julie and Cheryl walked up behind me holding bags and—Julie’s contribution—art. “It’s in there,” I said, pointing to the baby’s room. “Hey, can you guys handle this? I have one more thing I want to do.”