“It was no trouble. I just remember being really hungry after school when I was growing up.”
“Well, that’s very kind of you.” Liam puts his hand on Olive’s shoulder. “I’ll show her where the bathroom is so she can get washed up.”
A minute later, she follows Liam into the kitchen. I watch from my position in front of the sink as she slides into the chair in front of the fruit plate. “Do you like camembert and crackers?” I ask.
She stares at it blankly. “I don’t know.”
I see Liam eying the plate and the two of them exchanging a look. I may have overshot the whole snack thing. Perhaps peanut butter and jelly would have been better. “I have orange juice, water, milk, or Guinness. What would you like?”
She gives me a surprised look, then seems to understand that I was joking and smiles. “Milk, please.”
Liam watches her for a moment, then seems to decide she’ll be all right with me. “I’m going to be up on the roof if you need anything. Just call from down here though. I don’t want you on the ladder.”
“Okay, Dad.”
“And remember what I told you on the way here. Abby is a very busy person, so you’ll need to sit quietly and color so she can get her work done.”
“I remember,” she says, glancing at me nervously.
Guilt tugs at my chest for reasons I don’t understand. “I have a bit of time this afternoon, so why don’t I hang out with you a bit, since it’s a new place for you?”
“Okay.”
I smile reassuringly at Liam as I cross the room with a glass of milk. I’m too busy feeling smug about how naturally good I am with children to watch where I’m going. This results in me stubbing my toe on the table leg which causes the cold milk to splash all over my gray T-shirt, soaking me in the process. I follow it up with, “Oh, shit on a stick!” for good measure.
Olive’s eyes grow wide, and she erupts in a fit of giggles behind both hands.
“Oh, sorry! I shouldn’t have said that. I meant crap on a stick.” My face grows hot and I look at Liam. “That’s not much better, is it? Now you’re going to think I’m a bad influence. Which, to be honest, I probably am.”
Liam’s trying not to laugh as he stares at me.
“Crap on a stick,” Olive says, then bursts out laughing again. What a cute sound. I think I could listen to it for days. Her laughing, I mean. Not her saying ‘crap.’
“All right, Olive. Mind your manners.” He gives her a stern dad look, but I can see by her response that she’s not going to stop being amused by the clumsy American lady.
“Okay, let’s try this again.” I walk back to the fridge to retrieve more milk. This time, I make it to the table without incident. I hand her the glass and sit down across from her. “I probably should change, but I’m covered with dirt from the garden anyway, so what’s a little milk?”
She quietly munches on her snack, careful not to touch the camembert. I sip my tea and watch her. A shell necklace catches my eye. It looks like something from a booth at a music festival or a farmer’s market. The shell is white with light purple swirls and is attached to a braided hemp string.
“I like your necklace. It’s very beautiful.”
Olive smiles and touches the shell with one hand. “It belonged to a mermaid.” She says it like she’s telling me the greatest secret ever told.
“Really?” I hope she can’t tell that I have an urge to laugh.
She nods. “Yes. My dad found it on the shore up on Seal Island. That’s where all the mermaids on the hot days, so it must have belonged to one of them.”
She’s so sincere that if I didn’t know better, I’d grab my phone and Google it. “Are you serious?”
“Completely.” Her eyes are wide open behind the thick lenses. “Mercedes at school says there’s no such thing as mermaids, but she’s doesn’t know anything. She didn’t even know that if you mix blue and red, it makes purple.”
“Oh, well, then...” I offer, as though she has just provided ironclad proof.
She gives me a knowing look, and we’re immediately co-conspirators.
“How old are you, Olive?”
“Seven and three quarters.”
