I set up the hair elastics, a comb, a brush, and my straightener on the kitchen table.
“I’m frying some eggs. Can I make you some?” Liam asks.
“Sure.”Thanks, buddy.
“How do you like ‘em?”
“Fertilized.” I laugh.Why did I say that? That was ridiculous.
Olive looks up at me. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing. It’s an old joke for old people,” I answer. “However you’re making the eggs is my favorite way to have them.”
“Okay,” he says, trying to sound like this isn’t the most awkward moment ever.
Fertilized, Abby? You total moron.
I busy myself with the task at hand, glad that it allows us not to have to talk. For the next forty minutes, Olive does her best to sit still, which seems like torture because she’s so excited. Finally, I stand back and survey the results. Not bad.
The waterfall braid cascades down the sides of her head, just like the girl in the video. I hold up a hand mirror for her and she bites her lip, smiling as she sees herself. We smile at each other and Olive gives me another big hug. “Thank you, Abby.”
“You’re most welcome. This was fun.”
Liam takes out his phone. “Let me get a picture of you.”
“Abby, too, okay?” she asks, wrapping her arms around my waist.
I smile past the phone and look directly at him, scanning for any clues to his feelings, but he is an enigma. Or I’m too blind to see the truth. “Can I drive Olive to school? Just in case her hair gets messed up on the way. I can do some last-minute touch-ups.”
“Sure,” he says. “Listen, I have to head back to Virgil and Fiona’s again today. When I pulled up the carpet in the basement, I discovered the subfloor is rotten. I’ll need the day to get it torn out, but I promise I’ll be by to finish your place tomorrow.”
Shrugging, I say, “Whenever.”
* * *
I grin at Olive in the rear-view mirror as I wind my way through the village to the school. She is beaming, and I see her smoothing her hand over her hair each time I look back. It glistens in the early morning light. Shiny and healthy like her.
I find a spot across the road to park, and we get out. Olive slips her arms through the straps of her backpack, then takes my hand as we cross the road. I give her fingers a little squeeze of excitement as we walk, and the cold air cannot touch me through my cloak of happiness. When we reach the front sidewalk of the school, she stops walking and turns to look up at me.
“Thank you so much, Abby.” She lets go of my hand and grins again.
I lift my hands to the top of her head and let them glide down the length of her hair. “You’re welcome, sweet girl. It was my pleasure.” I give her a kiss on top of her head, and she is gone, racing to the door as the bell sounds. I stand watching, and my heart twists as I see her go in.
* * *
All day, I find myself restless and I can’t seem to sit at my desk for more than a few minutes without getting up to do something. Throw in that load of whites or dust the shelves in my office, which show a thin layer of white in the morning sun—anything but sit still and write. I can’t seem to return to Beatrice and her orphans. Instead, I’ve left her sitting in a tub full of warm water turning into a prune while I vacuum the entire house.
The house feels empty today with both Liam and Olive gone. Unable to face the quiet any longer, I go for a long walk along the beach, keeping my eye out for Isaac’s ring, just in case it’s somehow washed up onto the shore. After about twenty minutes, something shiny catches my eye. I hurry over and lean down. It’s my necklace. Laughing with excitement, I dig furiously around it with both hands, my pulse quickening as the chain continues on, deeper down. But then, it ends. No ring. Just a broken chain. Pocketing it, I continue digging, then stand and kick at the sand anywhere nearby, just in case. I’m determined to find it. It’s got to be here somewhere, if the chain is.
But it isn’t. After what feels like hours, I give up and go home, but I don’t give up hope because if I found the chain, there’s always a chance I’ll find the ring too.
After a long, hot shower, I sit back at my desk, checking the clock every few minutes and wondering if Olive will call to let me know how the day went. Finally, around two-thirty, I decide to pick up a few groceries. That way I can happen to be walking past the schoolhouse at three o’clock.
The next half hour is a steady climb in anticipation for me, as I peruse the aisles, keeping an eye on the time. It turns out, several moms use this as their chance to get groceries, and when I get to the checkout, I end up in a long line-up of women who know each other. They chat loudly, not seeming the least bit concerned about the time, while I tap my foot impatiently.
I walk out of the store just as the bell rings and see Liam pulling up in his truck. He gets out and gives me a confused expression until I hold up the bag. When I catch up with him, he’s wearing a knowing smile. “Needed a few things at the store, eh?”
“I ran out of bananas.”
