8. Caden
Irush through appointments over the next couple of weeks, eager to get home and see what the new nanny is up to with Lily.
It’s not just that Aspen is gorgeous—which she is—but I’m enthralled by the way our little ward has taken to her, as if the nanny has been a part of our lives forever.
As a doctor, I’ve seen firsthand how intuitive children can be, and if Lily trusts Aspen, I can’t help but believe that there’s something to her instinct. If I hadn’t become so disenchanted with emergency medicine, with all the death and destruction that human suffering can cause, I might have chosen a career path with children.
Coulda. Woulda. Shoulda.
Today, I park my pearl-gray Porsche outside the garage and look for my housemates’ vehicles. Pike’s trusty Jeep is there as always; the hermit-like creature would never be far from home if his agent didn’t force him on tour or into town for more supplies.
Flint’s deep red Aston Martin is nowhere to be found, but that doesn’t tell me anything except that he’s not home now. He could be returning in five minutes or five days. One never really knows with him. His schedule can likely be found on the whiteboard in the kitchen, but I pay little mind to Flint’s comings and goings.
But the car I’m most interested in sits at the far end of the garage, cool to the touch, and I smile. Aspen’s new BMW, shiny and untouched, waiting for an excursion.
As I enter the house through the garage door, I’m stunned to see Pike sitting in the kitchen with Lily—and Aspen. The girls sit at the table, coloring as Lily chitters to them, the adults listening intently. No one seems to notice as I enter.
“Well, isn’t this a Kodak moment!” All three of them offer me a blank look, and I shrug. “It’s something my father used to say.”
“Papa Caden!” Lily cries, scampering over to hug me. I scoop her up in my arms and drop a kiss on her cheek before setting her back on her feet to rejoin Aspen at the table.
“Hello, my little Lilbug,” I say, ruffling her loose, dark hair. “Are you having fun?”
“We’re coloring!”
“I can see that,” I chuckle, meeting the nanny’s warm, chocolate eyes.
Aspen stands. “Hi, Caden. How was your day?”
The question gives me a shiver of unbidden pleasure. It’s ridiculous because I’m sure she doesn’t really care, and yet I suddenly have the urge to tell her all about the three consultations and the many Botox injections I administered. But I don’t.
“Same old,” I say, opening the fridge and casting Pike a casual glance. I do a double take as I realize he’s sketching, his hands working skillfully, unaware of my eyes following his quick, even movements over the page.
He’s drawing them!
I’ve never seen Pike do anything other than abstracts before, and I’m awed by the intricacies of his work. He must have been at it for hours, if not days.
He feels me watching eventually and glances over his shoulder with a scowl, folding his arms over the page like he did when we were kids at school, hiding his test answers from me.
“Are you going to stand there with the fridge open all day?” he demands sullenly.
I crack a grin. “You want a beer?”
Pike holds up a hand, and I ask Aspen if she wants one but remind myself that she’s on Lily-duty.
“What are we doing for dinner tonight?” I ask.
“Pizza!” Lily predictably calls out.
Zoe materializes from nowhere, as always, her blue eyes shining as she takes in the busy kitchen. “Did I hear someone say something about dinner?”
Taking a survey of the room, my eyes fall back on Zoe. “Lily’s feeling pizza tonight,” I announce. “But if we eat pizza one more day, I suspect we’ll all turn into pizzas.”
“What about tacos?” Zoe suggests.
Lily pouts sullenly. “I want pizza.”
Preparing for a tantrum, I brace myself, but before Lily can fully have a meltdown, Aspen speaks. “Tacos are my favorite!” she exclaims with far too much enthusiasm.
Uncertainly, the little girl looks at her. Aspen bobs her head vehemently. “I love tacos as much as you love pizza!”
“Oh…”
“I love tacos, too,” I agree, realizing what Aspen is doing. I snatch a beer out of the fridge and close the door. “Don’t you love tacos, too, Pike?”
“What?” Pike looks baffled by this discussion, his mind clearly on his work still.
“Tacos,” I say again. “We’d all like tacos for dinner, but Lily wants pizza.”
“Oh…” Pike glances at Zoe and then Aspen, both of whom smile at him encouragingly. “Yeah, I like tacos.”
Not the ringing endorsement that we are looking for, but it sways Lily enough.
“If everyone else likes tacos, I guess we can eat tacos,” Lily says in a small, slightly disappointed voice.
“Oh, thank you, Lily!” Aspen says happily, and the child’s face brightens with her glee. “I’m so excited about Zoe’s tacos tonight. Can we help you make dinner, Zoe?”
Our housekeeper smiles appreciatively and slides past me toward the pantry. “Of course. I can use all the help I can get in here.”
I roll my eyes. We’ve offered to hire more staff at least a dozen times since moving in, but Zoe insists on handling the place on her own with her husband, Ryan, just like she had with Alexandra and Ryker.
She barely tolerated Sonia when we brought in the nanny, but she appears to like Aspen a great deal. I share her sentiment. Aspen is very likable, indeed.
“We can help, too, can’t we, Pike?” I offer.
Pike’s cerulean irises grow large, but he doesn’t refuse as we get to work under Zoe’s orders, the countertop lining with all the fixings for that night’s dinner.
Zoe turns on some music, and a pop song floods the kitchen, adding to Lily’s pleasure.
“This is Taylor Swift!” she screeches.
“Who’s that?” I tease, winking at Aspen across the black-and-white marble.
Lily gasps in horror. “You don’t know who Taylor Swift is?!” She looks helplessly at Aspen. “Aspen, he doesn’t know!”
“We’ll have to educate him, won’t we?” Aspen replies.
“Is she the one who played in Black Sabbath?” I ask thoughtfully.
Pike snorts. “You wouldn’t know good music if it bit you on the butt, Caden,” the artist pipes in, and Lily giggles hysterically.
Our banter grows sillier as the meal cooks, Zoe jumping in to guide us on shredding and cutting until the spicy scents overtake the kitchen, and my mouth waters. I didn’t even realize I was hungry.
“Can someone set the table?” Zoe asks. “Food is ready in two.”
“I’ll do it,” Aspen and I say in unison.
“We can both do it,” Aspen suggests. “I still get all the drawers confused in the dining room.”
“I keep telling Flint to label them,” I chuckle, leading her toward the adjoining room as the others remain in the kitchen. “But he’s too anal about appearances.”
She pauses at the buffet, opening the delicate glass doors to remove the wine glasses from inside as I bend down to find the plates and linens.
“Is he coming home soon?” she asks, a wistful note to her question.
My eyebrows raise innocently. “Is he gone again?”
She eyes me, carefully balancing the glasses in her hands before closing the doors softly. “He’s in New York again, isn’t he?”
“Is he? I don’t know. I can’t keep up with his comings and goings. His real estate stuff keeps him fairly tied up.”
“And your ‘doctor stuff’ doesn’t?” she asks teasingly.
“Not anymore,” I reply shortly, turning away. A small silence falls between us as I lay out the tablecloth, and I clear my throat. “That was quite a little psychological game you pulled on Lily back there with the tacos. Where did you learn that?”
“Empathy?” Aspen counters with a smile.
I shrug. “All I know is that if any of us had tried to sway Lilbug from pizza, World War III would erupt—and we’d be eating pizza.”
“Children need to be taught empathy,” Aspen explains. “They’re inherently selfish, not because they’re cruel, but because their worlds are tiny, and their parents—or guardians—make them the center. They need to learn that other people have feelings and preferences, too, and sometimes, we need to sacrifice to make others happy.”
Our eyes lock across the table, and I wonder if she’s only talking about children or about life.
“Dinnertime!” Zoe sings, interrupting our shared look, and hastily, I glance away, finishing my task of setting the table as the spiced ground meat takes its place in the lazy Susan in the middle.
She’s a remarkable woman, I think, and not for the first time. I like Aspen. Maybe a little too much.
Maybe I need to spend less time around the house before these feelings lead me into making stupid choices. Like getting attached.