The praise flooded her belly with such welcome warmth that it soon had her squirming in her seat, a brief back and forth swivel that moved the heat through her until it wasn’t just in her stomach anymore. It was in the flesh of her butt. Every place still tender enough to tingle, hurt when she wriggled. Pressing her cool fingers to her cheeks, she hoped she wasn’t blushing.
“It’s a little hot in here, isn’t it?” Pops said before taking another bite of his sandwich. She hadn’t seen him look up fromhis crossword, but he was obviously much more aware of his surroundings than he pretended to be.
“Muh?”
Stace jumped when Lily patted her leg, catching hold of her pants in an effort to pull herself up to stand unsteadily at her knee. Waving gimme-hands towards Stace’s plate, she stretched up her arms so she could be picked up. Grateful for the distraction, Stace pulled her daughter into her lap and broke off little pieces of sandwich for her to eat. Lily went straight for the cheese and chips, leaving Stace to munch on baby carrots so at least she could say she’d eaten her vegetables should Brock inquire later on.
“I have to go to the store,” she said, once they’d eaten and she’d cleaned up after the meal.
Pops perked up. “Want me to watch Lily for you?”
“I was going to ask if you wanted to come.” If Brock was looking for someone to watch his dad, there was probably a really good reason for her not to leave Lily in his seemingly capable care.
Brightening, Pops got up from the table and slowly shuffled off down the hallway to his bedroom. “I call shotgun. Just let me grab my hat.”
She texted Brock again, double checking that it was okay for her to borrow the car.
Keys are on the hook by the door, was his response. Followed by a decisively belated,You have a driver’s license in good standing, right?
Yes,she replied, rolling her eyes. She wasn’t stupid and she tried hard never to be irresponsible.I wouldn’t risk my daughter or your dad if I didn’t know how to drive.
I appreciate that, but we’re going to talk when I get home about why you didn’t include your own safety when you said that.
Her stomach blossomed into a chaos of fluttering butterflies. Chewing at her bottom lip, she tentatively answered,Talk, like, with our mouths, or the other way?
He let that go without reply, which was kind of a reply in and of itself. She stared at the phone, chewing her lip and praying he was too distracted by cows to respond right now. A moment passed before Pops came hobbling back. He’d put on a brown leather coat with fringes that hadn’t been in style since the eighties. His hat was a grey cowboy hat with a well-worn curve to the brim and what looked like a real snake-skin band.
“Let’s go, go, go!” he wheezed, racing her to the door one bow-legged step at a time.
Gathering up her daughter and the car seat, off they went. It was doubly strange to sit behind the wheel of someone else’s car, driving as safely as she knew how down the unfamiliar roads of her new town to the grocery store. She drove the cart while Pops followed along beside her in a scoot-about. She bought a can opener, and then a package of toilet paper because she couldn’t remember what she was forgetting she needed. And then, because she thought she ought to say thank you for being allowed to stay another night, she bought enough apples to make a pie.
“Mm, apples,” Pops said, smacking his lips as they headed for the register. “I sure do love apples.”
“And pie,” she said cheerfully. “I remember.”
Back home they went, and just as they were pulling into Brock’s muddy, snowy driveway, a flash of movement in her rearview caught Stace’s eye. A dark 1990s Cadillac pulled in behind her. Her heart lurched as she got out of the car and cautiously walked back to meet with the woman just now rolling down her window.
“Hi,” the woman said, smiling. “I’m here to interview for the companion position?”
“The position has been filled,” Pops called back to them as he got out of the car.
“Uh...” Stace said, knowing better. “Um...” She glanced at Pops, who had the back door of their car open and was cooing as he carefully scooped a sleepy Lily out of her car seat and into his arms. “Okay,” she finally decided, painting on what she hoped was a friendly smile as she faced the woman again. “Please come inside. Did you bring a resume?”
“Right here.” The lady handed her one, and in they went where Stace blocked Pops’s attempt to shut the door on the woman following her across the threshold.
Taking the notebook where Brock’s neat penmanship dictated the kind of notes he’d been taking for the other interviewees, she directed the woman to the couch and they both sat down.
Pops carried Lily with him down the hall. He was grumbling under his breath the whole way, not caring how rude it was or that the woman could obviously hear him.
“Sorry,” Stace said, once the bedroom door close behind him. “He’s a little grumpy sometimes.”
The woman kept her smile. “I know. It’s okay.”
Turning the page to a fresh sheet of lined paper, Stace got her pen ready. “So, tell me. What kind of experience do you have?”
She’d never given an interview in her life, but she did her best to write down what the lady said. She gave her past history, talked about other people she’d worked for, both the disabled children and adults, as well as the elderly folk she’d cared for. She seemed quite experienced, and perfectly qualified. She wasn’t sure she herself was qualified to judge, but she wrote that down too.
“And your contact information?” she asked. “So Brock can let you know when he decides.”
