She thinks?
No. Sheknows.
I pull my phone out of the back pocket of my shorts. “How do you spell that?”
“It’s spelled A-c-c-o-u-n-t-e-e-s.”
“Clever.” I bring up the website and smile. “Oh, I know which one I want.”
Willa stands and walks around the table until she’s behind me. “Which one?”
“Keep Calm. I’ve got a spreadsheet for that?” I see one related to sex with accountants, but I scroll past it. There are children here.
“That one.” Willa leans closer. “That’s my next one when I save up. It cracks me up.”
I read it and laugh. I’m not sure I get it, but I trust it’s funny. It says:Being an accountant is easy. It’s like riding a bike. Except the bike is on fire. You’re on fire. Everything is on fire.
“Are you really an accountant?” Willa’s pulled away slightly, but she’s still close enough to see the golden flecks of color in her eyes.
Pulling out the chair next to me, I gesture for her to sit. She does. “I’m the chief financial officer of my parents’ company.”
“Oh.” She frowns. “You said you were an accountant ‘of sorts’ at the baseball game. I see what you did there.”
“I crunch numbers all day long. I wasn’t lying.”
“No.” She shakes her head, making her ponytail swing. “I suppose you’re right.”
Her face tells me all I need to know. She doesn’t necessarily agree with my assessment of my job.
“I took a ton of accounting courses in college.”
A small smile crosses her lovely rosebud lips. “Do you like it? Accounting?”
It’s not my favorite thing to do, but it’s my job so I do it. “Do you?”
“I do.” Her smile widens. “Numbers make sense to me.”
“Me too.” That’s not a lie. Money makes sense to me.
“All right.” Brooklyn stands and gives us all a wave. “I need to get back to work.”
“Work?” Willa’s face scrunches a bit. “I didn’t know you worked here.”
“I volunteer.” Brook points at her tee. “It’s my summer gig while I’m home from college.”
“That’s fun.”
“Mm-hmm.” Brooklyn laughs. “Sure it is.”
“It was nice to meet you, Brook.”
“You too, Willa.” She glances at me, then back at Willa, adding, “I hope I get to see a lot more of you.”
“Oh. Um. Me too.”
“We need to take off too.” Sonia stands up, gathering up the crayons and the papers the girls were drawing on. Opening her giant bag, she shoves everything in at once. “Come on, girls, we need to get home.”
“Why?” They both whine, simultaneously.
