Chapter 9 #2
Nina thought about that. He had said something similar when he’d been talking about desensitizing Barbie before calling the vet and farrier to look her over.
And while being responsible for one’s child was the most basic of metrics for parenthood, she was beginning to understand that Maverick Hunt accepted responsibility for a lot of things.
His child. Forty rescue horses. The ranch and resort. His staff. And now, Nina.
She would have felt guilty had she not been so relieved. Even sitting in the confined space of the Jeep with him made her feel safe.
‘I’ve seen you with the horses,’ he added. ‘You’re kind and gentle. Stop worrying. Poppy will love you.’ And with that, he climbed from the vehicle and walked around to get her suitcase out.
Nina took a moment to look at the beautiful white ranch house with its wide porch and big windows before following Maverick up the three front steps and inside, Shadow on their heels.
The moment the door slapped shut behind them, a happy ‘Daddy!’ rang loudly through the house, followed by the sound of little feet on hardwood.
Poppy came running out, her face lit with unbridled joy as she made a beeline for him.
She was adorable. She had Maverick’s brown hair, big brown eyes, and she was dressed in yellow Beauty and the Beast pyjamas. Nina watched as Poppy threw herself at Maverick, wrapping both arms around his knees in a hug. ‘Daddy, I made dinner with Sisi!’
Maverick reached down and lifted her up in a quick hug, but he shot Nina a wink over his daughter’s shoulder. ‘Mud pie?’
‘No! Pasta!’ Poppy chirped. ‘With ’matoes!’
Maverick put her back down. ‘Yum,’ he replied, sounding genuinely enthused. ‘But you forgot your manners in the kitchen.’ With one hand on each of Poppy’s shoulders, he turned her around to face Nina. ‘Did you say hi to Nina?’
Poppy angled her head. Those eyes sized Nina up openly, and a little sceptically. ‘Hi!’
‘Hi, Poppy.’
‘Who are you?’
The question, the direct manner it was asked in, had Nina searching her mind for an appropriate response. ‘I’m a friend of your dad’s,’ she said finally, choosing the path of least resistance.
‘Oh.’ Poppy laughed. ‘I have friends too. Lots.’
‘I bet you do,’ Nina replied, genuinely amused.
Before she could defer or escape, Poppy came forward and took her by the hand. ‘I made dinner. Come see!’
‘Oh.’ Nina let herself be led. ‘Okay.’ She cast one slightly panicked glance in Maverick’s direction, but he only grinned and followed close behind them.
They walked down a wide hallway that was lined with dozens of framed family photographs. Nina caught glimpses of a young Maverick and Sierra and even Benji before she entered the kitchen slightly bent over, Poppy’s tiny hand encased in hers.
Sierra Hunt stood at the stove, a white chef’s apron over her pristine black pencil skirt. She didn’t turn around, only asked, ‘How did it go with Nina?’
Knowing that she had been a subject of concern to them had Nina flushing in embarrassment.
But when Sierra turned, a spoon in her hands, and saw Nina standing in front of her, her dark eyes widened in surprise for only a moment.
‘Oh. Hi,’ she said, recovering quickly. ‘I guess this answers my question.’
‘I’m so sorry for imposing,’ Nina began.
But Sierra only waved away her concern. ‘It’s no imposition.’
‘I offered Nina a more private place to stay in lieu of the resort.’ Behind them, Maverick spoke up. ‘Figured it would be a weight off all our shoulders.’
Sierra didn’t miss a beat. ‘Absolutely. We’ve been worried.’ She pointed the spoon in Maverick’s direction.
‘Please keep billing me,’ said Nina. ‘I wouldn’t feel right staying here otherwise.’
Sierra nodded slowly as she thought it through. ‘We’ll bring it down to our bunk rate and apply the summer special,’ Sierra said. ‘That way you’re still in our system as a guest and can access all the resort’s amenities even though you’re staying with us.’
Nina was instantly appeased. ‘Thank you.’ She consciously refrained from wringing her hands. ‘I know this isn’t exactly normal—’
‘Your situation’s not either,’ Sierra said simply. She turned to her brother. ‘Could you put Nina’s bag in the second spare room – the one next to yours. It was cleaned recently, and I’ve been storing some of my boxes in the other one.’
‘Yup.’
As Maverick disappeared around the corner again, Sierra walked to the fridge and pulled out an open bottle of white wine, held it up for Nina’s inspection. ‘Riesling?’
‘That would be great. Thanks.’
‘Come see,’ Poppy said, and tugged Nina’s hand again.
Nina followed. She watched in amusement as Poppy released her to pull one of the chairs from the kitchen table over to the stove. The five-year-old climbed up and peered into the pot of bubbling pasta sauce. ‘I made it,’ she said proudly.
‘I heard,’ Nina replied, but she couldn’t quite relax with Poppy standing so close to the bubbling pot.
Maybe she just had an overactive imagination, but all she saw were the numerous ways things could go wrong.
‘Hold on,’ she said, and when Poppy gripped the back of the chair with both hands, Nina pushed the entire chair a good foot off to the side of the stove.
Poppy looked at the stove, then back at Nina. She frowned. ‘But now I can’t stir.’
‘How about I stir?’ Nina offered.
Poppy seemed to genuinely consider the pros and cons of allowing Nina to intervene before nodding slowly. ‘’Kay.’
Nina picked up the wooden spoon from the side of the stove and stirred the marinara, but she was very aware of Poppy’s hawkish gaze. ‘This smells really good,’ she offered. ‘What did you put in here?’
‘’Matoes and … stuff.’
‘You don’t remember what we put in?’ This came from Sierra, who walked to them and passed Nina the glass of wine before taking a seat on the chair Poppy was still standing on.
Poppy roped her arms around her aunt’s neck. ‘I forgot.’
‘Onion, garlic, oregano, basil, and salt and pepper.’
Nina smiled as Poppy repeated the list of ingredients as if Nina hadn’t just heard Sierra rattle them off herself, and the moment she was done, Nina said, ‘Wow, that’s a lot to remember.’
‘Yeah. We use a book.’
‘A recipe book of my mom’s,’ Sierra clarified. ‘She handwrote the recipes she liked her entire life, so every now and then we try to do one of the recipe books justice.’
Nina nodded, but she wondered what that must have been like, growing up with a sibling and both parents. Stable parents. Parents who ran a successful ranch and handwrote recipes and tucked you in at night. To Nina, the Hunts’ lives may as well have been a movie. ‘How many recipe books are there?’
‘Seven.’
‘Seven?’
‘Yeah, but her recipes always end up stressing me out. Mom was really disorganized,’ she explained, ‘so her only rule was that she started a new recipe on a new page.’ Sierra stretched to reach a notebook that sat on the kitchen table. She passed it to Nina.
Nina put the spoon down and took the notebook. She opened it randomly in the middle and found herself smiling as she read both pages. The first, neat handwriting, read: Mav’s Favourite Chocolate Cake. The second page’s title was: Cream of Artichoke Soup. ‘I see what you mean.’
‘I keep telling myself to scan all the pages onto my computer so that I can reorganize and sort them, maybe print them and have them book-bound in some coherent categories, so I don’t have to flip through forty pages of random recipes to find the one I need.’
Nina couldn’t imagine having something so special and choosing to digitize it, even if it was for convenience. ‘Don’t do that.’ She passed Sierra the book back. ‘Or do it to preserve the recipes, maybe have them copied for when Poppy leaves home one day. But those shouldn’t be digitized.’
Sierra smiled. ‘Yeah. It’s funny how many of our memories are linked so closely to a person’s physical things. Every time I take one out, I hear my mom’s voice in my head, saying “Now where on earth did I write that recipe down?”’
Nina chuckled, but she couldn’t help but think that memories of her own mother hid in darker places. In a stranger’s cigarette smoke. In old bars that had that stale booze smell. In instant ramen noodles and boxes of Cheerios, neither of which she could stomach anymore.
‘Was your mom a cook?’
Nina laughed outright at that. ‘No. I don’t think I ever saw my mom cook anything. She …’ Nina thought about how to explain, while being sensitive to Poppy’s young ears. ‘She wasn’t like your mom.’
She didn’t realize how bitter she was and how it bled into her tone until Poppy looked up at her, and in a voice so blunt, so accepting, said, ‘I don’t like my mom too.’
Nina didn’t know what to say to that. She was so astounded by the child’s astuteness, so shocked at the transparency, that for a long moment, she simply stared.
Poppy kept right on talking. ‘She doesn’t know what I like to eat. And she always makes my dad sad.’ Poppy’s lower lip trembled.
Oh, God. She’d made Maverick’s child cry in her first hour.
Nina didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know Poppy’s story, so couldn’t tell her that some women shouldn’t be mothers, or that she was better off without a mother like that in her life.
The only truth she absolutely knew was, ‘But you don’t need your mom because you got the best dad in the world. ’
Poppy seemed to like that. Her eyes brightened immediately. ‘Yeah!’
And perhaps wanting to push them all back to their previous happy chatter, Sierra roped her arms around Poppy’s waist and pulled her onto her lap. ‘What about the best aunty in the world?’ she asked and started to tickle Poppy.
Poppy squealed, clearly used to the game. ‘You’re the best, Sisi! You’re the best, Sisi!’
Sierra stopped tickling her as soon as she got what she wanted. But she finished with: ‘Damn right, I am.’