“Nope. But—where are you going, again?”
“New York.”
“Hmm. When you’re done with the phone, I’ll make a couple of calls. Might be able to get you a flight with a potato pilot who ships to the Ore-Ida plant in Pennsy.”
I just nod.
“Tell him you need five hundred—and if I get you this flight, then you’ll just need bus or train fare from Pennsylvania to New York.”
“Oh! Oh, my goodness. Thank you! I’ll pay you b—”
“Sure you will. You’ll go have a good, happy life, and that’s the payment I want.”
OCTOBER 29TH, 2025
Pine Ridge, New York
“And the wheels on the bus go round and round. Round and round. Round and round!” I spin Laurel’s little feet as she sits in my lap. I’m worried about her looking at my screen for so many hours, even though I try to have other things for her to play with, so I try to change positions so she’s not facing the laptop.
But I just got another big assignment: a debugging and re-coding of another AI disaster from Kravable Kitchen Hot Hams and Smokehouse. Apparently, their biggest sales season is from November 1st to December 23rd, and the AI took a question about “vegan options,” and now all their menus and ordering options list tofu and texturized veggie protein as the main ingredients. My boss says they’re passing it off as a Halloween trick and running a big sale as the “Treat” to counteract the disaster, but if we don’t fix it by midnight on Halloween, we could lose the contract.
Fourteen-hour days. No nanny. Not yet. I can’t work when I’m tired, not on this, so Laurel is stuck being my work buddy.
When my phone rings, I’m expecting my boss to chew me out for not having made the first checkpoint yet—but instead—it’s a strange number. It rings as Unknown Caller, Alaska.
Is that the nanny? Imogene?
My... wife?
“Hi,” I answer the phone, holding it out and wincing. It’s probably going to be a deep, raspy smoker’s voice that makes Laurel cry.
Growing up like I did, you come to expect the worst.
“Mr. Taylor? This is Imogene Sommer.”
Her voice is beautiful. Light. Sweet.
Laurel stops scooting restlessly in my lap.
“I’m in Washington, and I’ll be flying into Idaho. Then I’ll b-be working my way to New York. I’m flying with a—a plane, but there might be delays. If it’s too big of a delay, I’ll get a train.”
“Oh, thank God. You have no idea how happy I am to hear that!” I exclaim, sinking back in my chair.
“Would you please send the travel money to the app I’m going to give you, and the address? It’s—”
I don’t even let her finish before I agree. I send the last of this month’s paycheck to a stranger, praying I didn’t get scammed, but desperate enough to believe that my usual luck is going to skip a turn.
It already has, kind of. Since I came to Pine Ridge, I’ve only had nice encounters with the neighbors. I fell asleep in the wilderness and instead of finding a snake or a bear—or getting mugged—I found Laurel. My boss didn’t fire me after a huge screw up.
“Keep me posted, okay? Call me when you land. I’ll come get you.”
“I m-might land in Pennsylvania. I don’t know which part yet. I could get a bus.”
“If it’s upstate, or heck, if it’s pretty much anywhere in Pennsylvania, I can come get you.” I hope it’s close. My car needs new tires. I just spent all the gas money paying for the nanny.
Wife. If she were a nanny, she’d have to get a salary.
I feel slimy and desperate, and then Laurel reaches for the phone. “Ba ba ba ba!” Happy little bursts of sound bubble from her pink mouth as her tiny hooves kick.
