He nods and hugs me again, and I hold him close, breathing in the scent of his strawberry shampoo and letting myself have this one moment of comfort.
Because I know it won't last.
Then I pick up my phone to call the only person who still answers my calls for help when it comes to Zoe and Matthew. The one person who would never give up on us.
Sometimes, even a mom needs a mom hug. So I call mine.
Chapter 4
Noah
BeingbackhomeinSaltford Bay is bittersweet.
It's been six months since I moved back into Gramps' house. Well, it’s my house now, I suppose, though it still feels strange to think of it that way. When he passed four years ago, he left meeverything: the creaky Victorian with its wraparound porch, the garage full of fishing gear, the backyard where he taught me to catch fireflies.
I don't like being idle, and after six months, I'm just about ready to crawl out of my own skin. Seriously, I'm having a hard time since the Jarvises moved to Singapore.
At least I have a part-time job at the Mindful Pixie yoga studio. It's few hours, and the pay is dismal at best, but it keeps me sane. I'm still waiting to hear back from Drakesmere Academy. I had three interviews with them so far, but they still have to make a decision. Sharnia may have put in a good word for me, but I'm not holding my breath.
Truth is, I still don't know if I even want to find another nanny position or if I should finally take the jump and commit fully to that teaching career I always dreamed of.
I'm kind of in limbo. Not a good place to be.
It's still early, about thirty minutes before the Mindful Tween class and everything feels under control. The mats are stacked. The lights are soft. My phone is hooked up to the speaker with binaural beat music already playing.
And I have my own special touch all ready for the class. I smile as I set a chocolate chip cookie tray on the back table between the pink salt lamp and the smudging abalone shell. They're all homemade, baked by yours truly, and still warm enough that the smell should basically be illegal. The kids lose their minds over these. It's stupidly satisfying.
The front door chimes.
Belinda Everdeen's familiar scent of lavender and sage hits me. It's pretty distinctive, even to my human sense of smell. The older pixie who is the proprietor of the yoga studio always seems to be drenched in essential oils and clouded in incense.
She's a character, for sure. But she's an amazing boss when she's not trying to smother me under a yoga mat or make me bend like a pretzel.
I raise my brows as I see her ushering in two pixie kids who look like they'd rather be anywhere else. I recognize her grandkids immediately.
"Sorry for being late. I had to drive to school to pick up these two." Belinda's voice is bright and cheerful, as usual. I don't think I've ever heard her sound anything but chipper and buzzing with happiness. "But I see I shouldn't have worried. The place is perfect, as usual. Thank you!"
The little boy, Matthew, lights up when he sees me. His pale-green wings do a happy flutter, and before I can brace myself, he launches across the studio floor like a tiny missile.
"Noah!" he exclaims.
I catch him mid-flight, laughing as he wraps his arms around my waist with the kind of enthusiasm only seven-year-olds possess.
"Whoa there, buddy!" I swing him up, and he giggles. "Good to see you, too."
"Did you bring cookies today?" His purple eyes are wide and hopeful. "Chocolate chips?"
"Matthew," Belinda chides gently, but she's smiling.
I set him down and ruffle his green hair. "I did. But they're for after class, and only if you ask nicely."
"Please?" He clasps his hands like he's praying. "Please, please, please?"
God, this kid is adorable.
"We'll see." I wink at him, then turn my attention to the girl hovering near the door.
Zoe, Matthew's sister.
