Chapter 11 A Grand Grimes Gesture – Kerry
I slept like a peaceful princess on plush pink pillows that smelled of clean linens and strawberries.
My body feels renewed, and my mind refreshed.
Though I have a long day ahead, I don’t want to get up.
Waking up at 6 am is one thing I don’t miss about teaching, especially not after the best sleep of my life.
Nevertheless, I jump up and get ready for a day filled with lots of activities.
Vic mentioned he’d be in the office early and leaving late moving forward, which is great for me because I’m going to wear whatever the hell I want.
And today, it’s a super cute pink crop top and high-waisted jeans.
After getting ready, I head to the kitchen to prepare the girls’ breakfast, but upon entering, I’m stopped in my tracks by a beautiful spread already laid out on the kitchen island.
Whoa!
I’ve never seen anything like this.
The island is covered in an opulent display of golden croissants beside an array of fresh berries and pancakes topped with vanilla whipped cream and drizzled maple syrup.
On the opposite counter is a crystal pitcher filled with freshly squeezed orange juice next to chopped bacon, smoked salmon, capers, and cream cheese, ready to crown the toasted bagels.
The food doesn’t even look real.
“What do I eat first?” I ask myself, awestruck by the extravagant breakfast array.
“Anything you want, Ms. Kind,” comes Ms.
Tina’s voice from behind, making me jump slightly .
“Oh gosh! You scared me,” I exclaim, placing a hand over my heart.
“What is all this? Where’s Mr. Grimes?”
“It’s your official welcome, I guess. He always cooks breakfast but never like this.” Ms.
Tina remarks with a raised eyebrow, her tone laced with intrigue.
I shrug, still taking in the spread.
“I guess he’s just overdoing it since he’s missing out on spending time with Syd and Ari.”
“Sure…believe that excuse if you want,” Ms.
Tina replies, leaning against the counter.
“I’ve known that man for a long time, and I’ve never seen him flustered, overdo anything, let alone yield a hammer.”
I laugh, remembering the odd sight from yesterday.
“Uh, yeah…about that hammer? What in the world was that about?”
Ms.
Tina nods towards the hallway with a smile.
“Go and take a look for yourself.”
I slowly walk towards the library and push the thick cedarwood doors open only to be stunned by the mini-renovation—a reading nook by the window where the sun beams, bathing the room in a warm glow.
I make my way to the cozy, alcove, spacious enough for a much-needed lunch nap.
There, atop a stack of my favorite books, I find a note.
I can’t believe I’m writing on pink paper, but here I go.
Words can’t express how sorry I am for being such an asshole to you, but hopefully my actions can.
I’ll never mistreat the woman who treats my daughters like the diamonds they are.
And when I say my home is now yours, I mean it.
So, I hope you enjoy reading while watching the sun rise and set.
You deserve to be surrounded by warmth and books.
Have an amazing first day.
P.
S.
Please don’t lose any more twist ties
Clutching the note to my chest, a giggle escapes me as I marvel at the sincerity of his words and the breadth of his actions.
I trace my fingers along the edges of the beautifully constructed nook.
His craftsmanship and hard work are evident, but it’s not just the skill that impresses me.
It’s his desire to do all of this for me in the first place.
The act of kindness confuses me, while it also stands as the grandest gesture any man has ever made solely for my sake.
I’m gently brought back from my reverie by a soft touch on my shoulder.
Ms.
Tina’s warm voice breaks the silence, “He was up until 3 a.m. working on this. Then he was in the kitchen early to prepare not just breakfast but lunch too. The poor man was so disappointed about not having time to make dinner as well. You’re special, Ms. Kind, and your spirit has already lifted this household. Mr. Grimes might seem rough around the edges, a tough nut to crack, but once you get past that, you’ll find he’s the most intentional, protective, and gentlest man you’ll ever meet.”
Ms.
Tina leaves, but her words sink in, echoing through me as I absorb the beauty of my new sanctuary.
Shortly after, I wake up Ari and Syd and prepare them for their school day, but I can feel Vic’s absence hanging heavy in the air.
“It’s so weird not seeing Daddy’s face first thing in the morning.” Ari comments while begrudgingly dragging her feet through the quiet kitchen.
Suddenly, his voice booms from the kitchen camera, “Will hearing my voice first thing in the morning do?” The girls’ faces light up, and their sleepiness vanishes as they chirp in unison, “Daddy!”
Syd’s voice wobbles a bit as she admits, “I miss you already, Daddy.”
“I miss you too,” His response is soft before turning his attention to me.
“Ms. Kind, your outfit is... rather casual. I mean, you look nice.” His awkward compliment catches me off guard, but I twirl in defiance and desire to show off just a tad.
Ari cuts through the awkward moment, “Isn’t Ms. Kind pretty in pink, Daddy?”
His reply comes quickly, almost too quickly, “Have a great day, girls.” Then, the camera light cuts out.
I chuckle to myself, shaking my head.
There’s something oddly enjoyable about throwing Mr.
Structure off balance.
Still, a part of me wishes he lingered just a moment longer so I could express my gratitude for making his home mine, too, even if he communicates in his own cryptic way.
The lessons for the day flow smoothly.
I dive into reading comprehension, sight words, and single-digit math equations with Syd.
Her concentration constantly breaks, but it’s steady enough to get through her work.
I enjoy watching her confidence grow as she conquers each new challenge.
Ari, on the other hand, breezes through multiplication and decimals before some structured story writing.
She’s sharp, razor-sharp , and her ideas flow with the ease of someone twice her age, like storytelling is stitched into her DNA.
“Ms. Kind,” Ari starts, her voice soft as she dips her head, hiding behind the curtain of her braids.
“I want to write a story about me becoming the greatest soccer player in the world.” She pauses, her voice growing quieter.
“Even with me only having one leg.”
I can feel her insecurity suffocating her aspirations, but as I gently lift her chin, meeting her eyes with an encouraging smile.
“Ari, let’s fix that last part. You’re simply gonna be the greatest soccer player in the world because you’re the best. End of story.”
She smiles a bright, toothy grin that could outshine the sun and nods, her confidence reigniting like a spark catching fire.
“But first, we gotta convince Daddy to let me play! He thinks I’m gonna get hurt, but I can play against anyone. He won’t even let us leave the house until he feels comfortable enough to trust the people in town.”
Before I can respond, Syd dramatically throws her hands in the air, her face scrunched in exaggerated frustration.
“We’re gonna be like Rapunzel for the rest of our lives!” she exclaims, flopping onto the rug like the weight of the world has crushed her.
“How will I ever be a world-famous dancer?” She crosses her arms, letting out an overly dramatic huff for good measure.
Ari rolls her eyes.
“Ugh, you won’t since Daddy thinks just because there were a few bullies at my last school that everyone’s evil. He says only great people deserve to be in our presence.”
I bite back a laugh, amused by their dramatics.
Sitting cross-legged on the floor beside them, I reach out to squeeze their hands gently.
“And you know what? He’s right. Great people do deserve to be in your presence. Which is why I’m gonna make sure you meet all the great people in this town, especially kids your age.” I glance between their hopeful faces, my voice soft but firm.
“I’ll talk to your father. I may not get him to say yes overnight, but I’ll warm him up to the idea of letting you two get out and make new friends. I promise the kids around town are as sweet, funny, and kind-hearted as the both of you.”
Ari’s eyes light up with a spark of hope, and Syd’s pout softens into a grin as we continue to work through until the afternoon.
At lunchtime, the staff rolls in with a second extravagantly prepped meal of the day—an array of gourmet sandwiches, colorful fruit platters, and chocolate-dipped marshmallows nestled perfectly on a tray for the girls’ dessert.
“Wow,” I breathe, my eyes widening as the aroma fills the air, rich with hints of freshly baked bread, ripe berries, and the faint sweetness of melted chocolate.
My stomach growls in anticipation.
“When did this man find the time to prepare all this?” I ask Ms.
Tina, still marveling at the spread.
Then, half-joking, I add, “Why can’t we just eat the leftovers from this morning? Seems like a waste.”
Ms.
Tina pauses mid-step, her expression softening with something between pride and nostalgia.
“A waste?” she repeats gently, shaking her head.
“Oh no, Ms. Kind. Once everyone eats, the leftover food is packaged and taken to a shelter. The entire Grimes family has done this every day for nearly fifteen years. Giving back is what he does. It’s also how he found us—in shelters, boarding houses, soup kitchens. Our families have been with him ever since, and we happily moved down here when he realized he needed to get away. He even purchased us homes not too far away.”
I pause, and a wave of admiration washes over me as I absorb the depth of his love, loyalty, and generosity.
“Wow, that’s... incredible,” I manage, my voice tinged with awe.
Ms.
Tina chuckles, her eyes twinkling with pride as she adjusts the plates.
“I told you, Mr. Grimes is quite the man.”
By mid-afternoon, Ari’s cellphone buzzes from the no-touch bin.
The caller ID flashes Dad, and considering his strict rule about no devices before 5 p.
m.
, it must be urgent.
My heart skips, and without overthinking, I answer the video call.
Mr.
Grimes’ face appears on the screen, his expression shifting from surprise to something softer—something that feels a lot like delight.
“My God, you’re beautiful,” he breathes, his eyes widening slightly as he realizes it’s me instead of Ari.
Heat creeps up my neck, coloring my cheeks.
“I’m sorry for answering,” I say quickly.
“I thought it might be urgent. Is everything okay?”
His features relax into a weary smile, the lines around his eyes deepening just enough to hint at exhaustion.
“No, everything’s fine. It’s just been a long day.” His voice softens, warm and sincere.
“What I really need is to get out of the office at a decent time so I can come home and take care of you three.”
His words land like a warm flutter in my chest that I swallow.
“Um…oh yeah! Thank you for the amazing breakfast and lunch—and for the reading nook. I absolutely adore it.”
His smile grows, genuine and lingering just a moment longer than necessary.
“I’m glad you do,” he says softly.
After a brief pause, he adds, “Maybe we could sit down for a drink this evening? It’d be good to get to know each other a bit more, like you suggested. ”
A ripple of excitement stirs in my chest.
“I’d like that,” I reply, keeping my tone light.
“I don’t want us to act like strangers when we go out in public.”
He chuckles, the sound low and comforting.
There’s a brief silence, more comfortable than awkward, before he gives a small shake of his head as if snapping himself out of it.
“Right. I actually called to speak to the girls.”
We both laugh.
“Of course, let me get them for you.” I say, still smiling as I hand the phone to an eager Syd and Ari.
They chat for what seems like forever, sharing details of their day and weekend plans.
After lunch, our day passes like clockwork, with school outside soccer drills and impromptu dance sessions.
As evening falls, the house settles into a quiet hum.
I start dinner, determined to surprise the Grimes gang with one of their family recipes—a Trini beef pelau I found tucked in an old cookbook from the library.
I immediately regret picking this hell of a complicated recipe.
By the time the food is ready, I’m frazzled but triumphant.
I wrangle the girls into the tub, then take the fastest shower of my life, mindful of the family’s strict 6 p.
m.
dinnertime.
However, I do allow myself a few extra minutes to primp in eager anticipation for my wine down with Mr.
Grimes.
I wash my hair, letting my tight, bouncy curls air dry.
Then I embark on an internal fashion crisis, cycling through five outfit changes before settling on a soft blush satin two-piece pajama set—tasteful yet form-fitting in all the right places.
At 5:50 p.
m.
, I rush back to the kitchen to set the table for four.
But there are still only three of us.
“Don’t worry, Syd. He’ll be here,” Ari says, her voice steady as she reassures her sister.
But when 6 p.
m.
comes and goes, it’s still just the three of us, and the girls’ faces grow gloomier with each passing minute.
Ari’s voice wavers with worry.
“Breakfast, yes. Lunch, yes. But Daddy has never missed dinner. Is this how it’s always going to be now, Ms. Kind?”
I feel a pang of disappointment in my chest, seeing their distress and gently cover their hands with mine.
“Absolutely not. Your dad wants nothing more than to be here with you. Sometimes, though, work will keep him longer than he’d like.” I try to soften the blow of reality with a hopeful tone, but their frowns deepen, pushing me to lighten the mood.
“How about a special treat after dinner? Ice cream and 45 minutes of screen time. Syd, you can catch that dance competition you love, and Ari, isn’t there an Atlanta United game on tonight?”
Their expressions instantly brighten, and after dinner, I set them up with their ice cream and tv shows in their rooms, but as I wander through the quiet, sprawling house, a wave of loneliness creeps in, and I retreat to the library, curling up in my reading nook.
Engrossed in my book, I lose track of time and doze off until phone notifications awaken me at 8:00 p.m.
“Holy crap! The girls’ bedtime,” I gasp, scrambling to my feet and rushing down the hall.
Relief washes over me when I find them both fast asleep in Ari’s room, snuggled next to Tum Tum with the TV playing softly in the background.
I switch it off and lean down to press gentle kisses on their foreheads.
“Sweet dreams, girls.” I whisper softly.
As I turn to leave, Ari stirs, her sleepy voice tugging at my heart.
“Daddy never came home, did he, Ms. Kind?”
The question knots my stomach.
I hesitate, choosing my words carefully.
“He’ll be in to kiss you goodnight soon.” I answer, hoping it’s not a lie.
Back in the kitchen, I tidy up and put away the plates I’d prepared earlier, but my thoughts are heavy with concern for the girls and the promises I hope their dad can keep.
Just as I’m reaching for the last plate, I hear the door open and sharp voices pierce the quiet, the clash of raised tempers echoing through the house.
“No, Mom! I don’t care what Hudson did for the company before. He isn’t the CEO. I am! This game he’s playing needs to end now! ” Vic’s voice thunders through the hallway, sharp and unyielding.
Curious yet cautious, I slip behind the kitchen doorway, peeking out from the shadows.
There, in the dimly lit hall, he stands face-to-face with his mother, their silhouettes tense in heated debate.
“Son, try to see it from Hudson’s perspective,” Ms.
Vicky calmly pleads, a striking contrast to her son’s clear frustration.
“He managed the business with your father for years while you focused on the restaurants. He knows the company inside and out. It’s as much his business as it is yours. ”
“But it isn’t! ” His chest heaves with every breath, his voice cracking under the strain, and fists clenched at his sides.
“Dad left the company to me, and the least I could do—to make up for what I did—”
“No!” Ms. Vicky cuts him off, her voice sharper now.