Chapter 2 #2
“Call me when you evolve into a creature who’s able to see the deeper meaning in things.” He gathered his wet sketches and snapped the case shut. “Nuance, layers, subtleties… God forbid your caveman brain has to tango with a metaphor or two.”
It only made me laugh harder, and Miles’ confusion deepened.
“No, seriously, what did I miss?”
“Miss, miss, you’re a diss. Miss, miss, mister miss.” Emma hooked the last of Miles’ question and taunted her sister in a sing-song voice. “You missed me, you missed me, you m—”
The juice box hit Emma square in the face, shutting her up good and solid.
Realizing she was out of fuel, Sadie had problem-solved like a pro and launched the whole thing at her.
The look on Emma’s face was priceless, and gave rise to the most triumphant giggle in Sadie.
I would’ve high-fived her impressive aim if I didn’t think it would make things a whole lot worse.
She rolled on the floor with glee, while her sister’s expression cycled through shock, humiliation, and mortified rage with surprising speed. Talk about layers.
Then Emma moved, and Sadie jumped to her feet.
Reading the development, Adrian pushed between them in a flash, arms stretched out to hold each back from the other as their little arms swiped and slashed at the empty air.
Emma hurled threats, while Sadie goaded her to ‘go ahead and try it.’ It was chaos, but that moment in a bubble made me grieve being an only kid.
“Are there any weekend daycare centers around here?” he asked with a panicked smile. The deeper we got into this trial, the more clear it became that we weren’t equipped for it.
“I’m in fourth grade, not daycare,” Emma said, and finally backed off.
The mere mention of shipping them somewhere else had taken precedence over squishing Sadie under her shoe like a bug.
Her words. That had brought on tears from the youngest, who held a heartbreaking measure of love for all animals.
Sadie sniffled a few times, and added, “There’s no school on weekends. Right, Uncle Ethan?”
I was no match for those blue eyes brimming with held-back tears.
Where Emma and Will looked like their mom with dark hair and hazel eyes, Sadie was the carbon copy of Gabe and me.
I had more gray in my eyes than either of them, but the sleek nose, dimpled chin, and dirty blonde hair was a mirror.
Down to the stubborn set of her mouth, which now stretched into a slightly crooked smile (much like mine), when I said:
“You’re right, kiddo. No school on weekends.”
Adrian and Miles shared a look, and I was in full agreement. There was no way we were getting through the next few weeks with three crazy kids in the mix.
“Any replies on that ad you posted last night?” Miles asked.
I glanced at my phone where I’d discarded it on the table, the screen showing a few stray droplets of juice. No calls or texts from Gabe, but there was a different notification.
“Didn’t hear it in all the excitement,” I muttered, and pulled up the email.
“How many bites?” Adrian came over, his head damn near blocking my whole phone from view.
I snapped it away. “Do you mind?”
“Just call them all and pick the one who’s ready to start immediately.” Miles gently guided Emma and Sadie back in the direction of the living room. “Uncle Adrian said he’s making cookies after you guys clean up the cushions.”
The bribe worked, and the girls hurried through to speed-clean. Adrian didn’t look too impressed with getting dragged into cookie-duty, but didn’t protest. He was more interested in the potential lifeline.
“Well? What are you waiting for?” he egged me on.
I stared at the professional photo headlining the short resume attached. “I don’t know…”
“What don’t you know?” Miles asked. “We’re not exactly in the position to not know. Just call them, and—”
“It’s just her,” I said, showing him my phone. “Just the one. Maren Calloway.”
He whistled low, one eyebrow raised. “She’s hot.”
I wasn’t about to argue with him on that. But there were other things to consider. “Hardly qualifying criteria.”
“Let me see.” Adrian grabbed the phone, his eyes practically popping out of his head at a generic LinkedIn-style profile pic. Granted, Miss Maren Calloway pulled it off better than most I’d seen floating around online. “Says here she’s a kindergarten teacher. Sounds like a qualification to me.”
“No.” I took back my phone and with one last look at her, added, “We can’t take someone we’ll end up having to micro-manage. She looks like a pushover.”
“The only other option,” Miles said, adopting his business tone of voice so I’d know he wasn’t flexible on this, “is to stick your nieces and nephew on a flight to Kenya, and hope Gabe gets the message by the time they land so he can pick them up at the airport.”
I’d spent years in finance and we’d been running Lumen for the better part of a decade.
My biggest lesson was that making decisions out of desperation always came back to bite me in the ass.
There was no way to know if this applicant was the right choice without any contenders to compare her with.
We could end up doing more harm than good, with the kids taking the brunt of it.
I nearly dropped my phone as another notification pinged. A text from Cara. She wanted to confirm the meeting with our team later.
Shit.
No school on weekends was a promise I couldn’t go back on. And I couldn’t see those two firecrackers behaving in an upscale gallery in the South End.
Double shit.
“What’s it gonna be, Ethan?” Adrian tapped his wrist. “Time’s a-ticking.”