Chapter 12
Sutton
Hours later, with my booth torn down, Nellie and I watch the fire safety demonstration.
To her, the display is as exciting as a firework show.
For me, the terror of a house fire winds up compartmentalized in the box with the accidents, falls down the stairs, drowning possibilities, severe animal bites, and all the other bad shit parents do their best not to imagine.
My career has given me a unique vantage point.
Anything one can imagine can and does happen.
I’ve seen it. And if I let my mind run wild with possibilities, I’d be sleepless and sick with worry.
“Ready to go home, Buttercup?”
The setting sun glints off the top of her purple helmet. Nellie climbs onto her bicycle with a yawn. “Re-Re-Ready.”
“I’ll say. You’d better pedal fast so you don’t fall asleep before we get there.”
“That’d be silly.” She giggles. “I’m glad we came here today, Daddy.”
I trek along the cracked pavement beside her slow roll. “What was your favorite part?”
“Well, Jeremiah said I couldn’t beat him in a race, but I went super fast. He tried to stick his foot out to knock me over, but I raced right past him, and I won.”
“He did what?” My face pinches into a scowl. Pulse roaring in my ears. I’m going to have to talk to this Jeremiah.
“It’s okay, though, because after I crossed the finish line, Jeremiah ran into a street sign and fell on his butt.”
“Kid probably wouldn’t have lost his balance if he wasn’t trying to knock you down.”
“That’s what Miss Alice said.”
Tension flickers to life in my palms. “She was there?”
“Uh-huh. She made sure he was okay of course, but then she told him if she saw him try to kick me down again, she’d beat up his mom.”
My eyes nearly bulge out of my head. “She did not say that.”
“She did! It was so cool. Jeremiah even said sorry without her makin’ him.”
Cool. Right. Just my nanny making threats of bodily harm in front of children.
There’s about a 75 percent chance I’ll get a call at the station tomorrow.
“I’m glad he apologized.”
Nellie swerves around a clump of weeds on the sidewalk. “She’s the best, isn’t she?” The amusement evaporates, leaving her tone gloomy. “I wish Miss Alice could be around all the time.”
My fingers wrap tightly around the nearest handlebar, slowing her crawl. “Hey, what’s going on?”
“Nothing!” My little girl knocks my grip away with an unexpected swipe. “Race you home!” she shouts, her voice wobbly.
I watch her leave earshot before I unleash a curse. “Fuck.”
Instincts tell me to give her space, so I follow silently behind, letting her work through whatever she’s dealing with. She stays within sight, reaching our driveway only a few minutes before I do.
The sound of muted sniffles beckons me into the house. After flipping on the porch light and arming the alarm, I step out of my sneakers and jog down the steps. The yellow glow from my bedroom indicates which way my girl went.
My heart clenches at the sight of Nellie face down in my pillow. Her legs hang off the edge, shoes still on her little feet. She looks so small it’s easy to forget she’s growing quickly and no longer the toddler I used to rock in my lap when the world felt big and scary.
Cocking a knee, I ease myself onto the edge. I smooth my fingers over a crease in the comforter as I wait.
Five, ten minutes later, Nellie takes a big breath and rolls over. With both hands, she shoves messy strands of hair out of her face and wipes those teary eyes with the backs of her hands.
“Do you want to tell me what’s got you down?”
I fight the instinct to demand the name of whoever hurt her so I can pay them a visit. That’s not how we do things. Yet. In a few years, my methods will most likely change. That is, if her uncles don’t handle the problem before I get there.
Though I don’t think this is something I can fix with a few threatening words.
“There’s a princess dance at school on Friday, and Maddie said I don’t get to go because I don’t have a mom.”
Well, fuck. Those words have me this close to reconsidering my earlier thought. This is one of those single-parenting things that doesn’t have a good answer.
“I’m sorry, Nellie. She shouldn’t have said that to you. That was hurtful.”
Those big, teary eyes sink into my chest like claws and score across my heart. “I really, really want to go to the dance, Daddy.” Her lower lip trembles.
Yep, I take it back. The right thing to do is pull out my phone and tell her uncles to assemble. All of them. Blood related or not.
“You can still go. I’ll take you. Hell, I’ll wear a dress if I have to.”
“You can’t wear a dress.” A little bit of the light returns to her eyes.
“Says who?” I grump.
“Me!” She slaps her palms down at her sides. “Stop being funny. I’m sad right now.”
“Right. Sorry.” I cross my arms over my chest. “What about asking one of your aunts to go? We could call them and ask.”
Technically, Nellie only has one aunt. Cortney is married to my brother, Spencer. But Lee and his brothers are as close as family, and each of their wives is like a sister to me.
Except Whitney. The reason Ms. Thompson is under my employ. She might not be receiving a Christmas gift this year for the stunt she pulled with hiring my new nanny.
Nellie slowly sits. “Do you think Miss Alice would go with me?”
My jaw falls slack. “I don’t know, Buttercup.” I reach for an excuse, anything to deter the direction of her thoughts.
“She doesn’t like me either,” she mumbles, covering her eyes with the heels of her hands.
Oh fuck.
“Now you know that’s not true.” The words fall out in a rush.
“So I can ask her?”
The acquiescence oozes from me like a toxic sludge. Cornered like a damn stray, I mutter, “You can try.”
Nellie flings her body onto her knees so fast I brace for her to hurtle straight off the bed.
“Can I call her right now? On your phone?”
“It’s late—”
“Please, please, please. She might make other plans.”
The determined set of her jaw reminds me so much of myself. Digging my phone from my back pocket, I tap the second name in my recent call list.
She answers on the third ring. “Now I know my glucose monitor isn’t the reason for this phone call.”
“Eleanor would like to ask you a question,” I state, my voice curt.
Nellie plucks my cell from my hand, jumps from the bed, and scuttles across the hall into her own room. Just before she leaves, I see the screen light up with Ms. Thompson’s face.
I slink down the hall after her, pausing at the door.
Nellie’s back is to me, the phone extended from her face with both hands.
“Hi, Miss Alice.” The melancholy from moments before vanishes.
“Hey, kiddo. Did you have fun today?”
Her slim shoulder shrugs. “Kinda. I have a question to ask you.”
Ms. Thompson fills the frame. Her black messy bun bounces on her head as she moves closer and adjusts her baggy sweatshirt. “Go ahead.”
“Will you go to the princess dance with me at my school on Friday?”
“You want me to go to the princess dance with you?”
Nellie nods. “It’s a mommy-daughter princess dance, but I don’t have anyone to take me.” She pulls the phone close to her mouth and whispers, “Except my dad, but I don’t want the other kids to make fun of me.”
Ms. Thompson doesn’t even wait a beat. “Of course I’ll go with you! Do I get to wear a pretty dress too?”
My daughter bounces on her heels. “If you want to.”
“Do you already have a dress?”
“Mine’s pink with sprinkles.”
Ms. Thompson’s warm, rich laughter fills the room. “Do you mean sparkles?”
Nellie groans, followed by the smack of the heel of her hand thumping her head. “I meant sparkles,” she says through her laughter.
“I’m going to find one with sparkles too. What about your hair? Can I take you to get your hair done?”
Nellie spins around, eyes wide as ever. “Can I?”
I incline my head. “You have my blessing to give her the full treatment, but I’m paying,” I announce loud enough for Ms. Thompson to hear.
“Okay! I’ll set up some appointment times tomorrow. Thank you for asking me. I’m honored and excited.”
Nellie beams into the phone. “Me too. Bye, Miss Alice. I’ll see you soon.”
“See you Monday, kiddo. Good night to you both.”
The screen goes dark.
“I’m going to get ready for bed!” Nellie shoves my phone in my hand on her way.
It’s not until she returns and crawls beneath her covers that I realize I haven’t moved.
And I’m smiling.