He winces and for a second, I worry that I’ve offended him.
“About that, I’m afraid I might have to slow down a bit. The woman who watches Olive after school called last night. Her mother is sick, so she wants to leave for Newfoundland right away to go look after her. It means I’ll have to shorten my days by quite a bit until I can find another sitter.”
Damn. That does not fit with my plans. “What if she comes here until you can find someone? I know there isn’t much to do, but if she can keep herself amused, it could work out.”
Liam tilts his head, his expression both surprised and relieved, and I can’t help noticing those blue eyes of his are sparkling a bit. “Are you sure?”
“Sure, I’m sure,” I say, looking down at the box so as not to gawk at him so close up. “The hermit of the sea needs to get you the hell out of here as soon as possible,” I say with a grin.
“Hermit of the searock,” he answers, grinning at me as he removes the Styrofoam from the nightstand. “Anyway, thanks. I’m sure it won’t take long to find somewhere else she can go. In the meantime, she won’t be any trouble. She loves to read and draw. She’d probably spend her time here with a sketch pad on her lap. Or Walt, if he’d put up with her. She loves anything soft and furry.”
“Well, I don’t know if he likes kids or not, but we can give it a try.”
We both stand on opposite sides of the bed, staring at each other until my face heats up. Then, at the same moment, we both start cleaning up the boxes and plastic.
Once everything is in a manageable pile, he picks it up, glancing at the bed again. “You need any help with the sheets?”
“I don’t think that was part of your estimate,” I say with a half grin.
“That’s why I like to be vague. So I can do what needs doing.” A panicked look comes over him and he says, “Not like that. I only meant I like helping people.”
“Sure, buddy,” I say, pretending I don’t believe him.
“No, seriously, Abby. That would have been creepy, if I meant it like that.”
I shrug and make atsking sound. “I know what I heard.”
He picks up the garbage and shakes his head while he walks out the door. “Okay, very funny.”
I call after him, “Is that what you meant by a jack of all trades?”
“Hilarious!” he shouts up the stairs.
I hurry to the hall and yell, “Is that the thing you do a little of or a lot of?”
* * *
The next day, Liam leaves at three o’clock to pick up Olive from school. As I wait for them to come back, a sense of anxiousness overcomes me. I have absolutely no experience with children. Other than having been one a long time ago, and having spent a few hours here and there with my brother’s kids, I really don’t know what to say to a child. I know enough not to treat her like a baby, but that’s about it. I try to think back to what I was like as a young girl. I remember that after school, I was tired and cranky and starving.
By the time I hear Liam’s truck pull up, I have a spread of sliced apples, some Camembert, and water crackers set out for my new guest. I place a napkin and a cheese knife next to it. It’s just the sort of snack Isaac and I would offer company. “Perfect.”
I hear the door open and Liam’s voice. “Abigail, we’re here.”
I peer around the corner while I wipe my hands on a dishtowel and take in the sight of a waif of a girl with unruly long brown curls that look like they might just spring right off her head at any moment. She’s standing slightly behind her dad, holding his hand and looking up at me with huge blue eyes behind a pair of red-rimmed glasses. I now get what he meant about her looking like she lives alone in the woods. She’s wearing a denim dress with striped green and yellow leggings under it that look like they’re two sizes too small, on account of how high up they come on her skinny legs.
Liam looks down at his daughter, then back at me. “Olive, this is Ms. Carson.”
I cross the room and hold out my hand to her. “Nice to meet you, Olive. Please call me Abby.” I look at Liam. “Oh, that’s if it’s okay with you.”
“That’s fine. I don’t get too fussed about being formal,” he says. “Say hello, Olive.”
She takes my hand, and we shake. Her fingers feel so light in my palm, it’s hard to believe she’s an actual human being. “Hello, Abby.” She gives me a tentative smile, and I can see she gets her smile from her dad. And her eyes. But the rest of her—the mass of thick curls and the slight frame—must be her mother.
“Are you hungry? I made you a snack.”
Her eyes light up, and she gives a quick nod.
“You didn’t have to do that, Abby,” Liam says.
