“Thank you for meeting with me,” I say, to be polite.
“If there’s anything more I can do?—”
But I’m out the door before she can finish that sentence. I know she’s trying to do her job, but she could have kept her opinions to herself. She’ll realize Quinn’s not different. That she’s not…me.
I take the drive back to the house slower than I ever have, replaying that kindergarten memory I shoved into a box a long time ago. I can’t get rid of it. And maybe I wouldn’t have found myself in this position, feeling triggered, had I taken my mom’s advice. After running off the stage at my last show, she suggested therapy. But something about sitting in a stuffy room dredging up the past sounded like torture. I already know my demons. Talking about them won’t make them go away.
Matters get worse when I see a black Range Rover parked inmyspot on the driveway. I was already trying to prep myself to see bubbly Summer, but Caroline? If she knew I had a meeting with Quinn’s teacher it would be the Spanish Inquisition for me. And I’m trying to shove it all back in the past. Memories Caroline, Summer, and the rest of the world need to know nothing about.
I pull the business card from my pocket andstuff it in the glove box. Caroline is sitting at the table with Quinn, quizzing her with flashcards, when I get inside. Quinn doesn’t run to me when she sees me like she used to do with her mom. I acknowledge it, but don’t let it sting like it wants to.
“Where are Summer and Henry?” I glance out the sliding glass door to a map of color painting the patio and a couple dozen boxes taped together. The fact that Summer remembered Quinn likes to color… it’s something a nanny would do. A thoughtful gesture that’s hard to ignore.
“I sent her home,” Caroline says without looking up at me.
“You what?” I shove my hands in my pocket as I approach the table in quick strides.
What is it going to take for her to get that she doesn’t have custody over Quinn?
“This is an apple. Can you say, aaaa-ppple.” Caroline enunciates the word and ignores my proximity as I tower over her.
Quinn climbs on her lap. “Appow.”
“That wasn’t your call to make,” I interrupt.
She finally lasers in on my face. “You’d rather have your daughter spend time with some stranger than her grandmother?”
“She’s not a stranger,” I argue. In fact, as far as Caroline knows, Summer is the woman I hired to be Quinn’s nanny. She can’t just dismiss her when she wants to. That’s my job. And after the day I had, I wasn’t exactly ready for Summer to go home yet. For more reasons than simply not being in a great headspace to parent right now. Whether or not it’s appropriate to be thinking about how much I liked seeing Summer in my home is an entirely different question.
“Are you sure about that? How much do you really know about this woman?”
She’s acting like I’d trust my daughter with anyone. Summer’s son goes to school with Quinn. And I can bet Quinnhad a hell of a lot more fun drawing on the patio and playing in that impressive box creation than she is working through a stack of flashcards.
I don’t like the look in Caroline’s eyes. The Blackwoods are a highly connected family around here. They frequent country clubs and board meetings. It wouldn’t be impossible for her to know something about Summer that I don’t.
“I know plenty, thanks.” I turn away from her, taking long strides toward the island, because now I’m questioning everything. A list of things I don’t know about Summer unravels like a rogue roll of toilet paper in my mind. I don’t know her last name or where she lives, other than with a friend. Which seems odd if she’s married. I don’t know where she works or who Henry’s father is. And those aren’t even things I’d find on a criminal record if she had one.
Does she have one?Would El have trusted Summer so quickly?
Being the only grandchild on both sides, we haven’t needed to leave Quinn with so much as a babysitter. I convince myself this is simply new for everyone involved. And I owe Caroline some grace. She lost her daughter and is having to face watching her grandchild grow up without a mother. I get that it’s hard on everyone.
It doesn’t mean I’m a bad judge of character. Or that I should be taking the brunt of what she’s working through. I’m a good parent. I show up if her teacher says she’d like to have a meeting with me. Something I’d use to prove myself to Caroline right now if I were okay with her knowing about it.
When I’ve determined how I feel on this subject, I turn to face her.
“I trust Summer.”
Caroline raises an eyebrow. “Did you know Henry isn’t her son?”
I hide my shock as a sick feeling stirs in my gut.
How did you find this out?I want to ask, but that would give me away. Because no, I did not know that information.
Even when the muscles in my jaw want to lock, I force myself to relax. No matter what, I’ll get to the bottom of this.
“Quinn and I have plans this evening,” I say.
It’s a lie. The only plan I have is getting Caroline the hell out of my house and figuring out what I’m going to say to Summer.
