“That’s okay, kiddo. I don’t mind being called Rhys.”
She smiles and hugs me, and I try to hide my troubled expression.
How do I tell her she’s my daughter? Has she even asked about her father, and what did Sadie tell her?
“Hi, guys,” Sadie says, approaching from behind me. “Are you having fun?”
“Sure,” I answer, turning to face her.
When I see her striding towards me, I’m so shocked, my heart actually skips a beat.
Oh my God.
Sadie is wearing a new outfit, a knee-length, pleated skirt in shimmering pale blue. Her white blouse hugs her waist and frames her hips, the neckline showing just the smallest hint of cleavage. Her hair has been brushed back from her face and is pinned to the side with an attractive wire clip, and her new white sandals have just enough heel to show off her elegant legs.
“I’ve got the tags here,” she says, showing them to me. “And I’ve only chosen a few more items. I don’t want to spend all your money.”
“I don’t mind,” I say. “You can buy anything you want.”
She shakes her head. “I’ll wait until I have a job and get what I need. Don’t worry about it.”
“You can buy me something,” Cassie says boldly.
“Okay,” I reply, grinning. “What would you like?”
Cassie drags me over to the dinosaurs, finally choosing one that roars and has flashing red lights for eyes. We leave the store, and I buy a small bag of donuts for us to snack on while Sadie goes around and introduces herself at a few shops.
Even though I knew Sadie was educated and well-spoken, I’m still surprised by how smoothly she handles herself. Her manner is polite and professional, but warm and friendly enough to genuinely connect. I can see that people immediately like her, and in ordinary circumstances, she’d have no trouble finding a job.
But it all seems to fall apart when people ask about her experience. Sadie tries to answer with confidence, but when her only answers are “waiting tables, cleaning, ironing,” or similar, people shake their heads regretfully, and Sadie walks away, looking like she’s barely holding back tears.
Cassie notices none of this, happily munching on donuts and taking in the sights. When we stop for a few moments, I have to look around for a while before I realize what Sadie is looking at.
The bank? Really?
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Sadie says softly. “I could probably kick ass in there, you know. I’m better qualified than most financial analysts in the market. At college, I had a knack for numbers no one could ever match.”
“That’s right,” I reply. “You were studying economics or something, weren’t you?”
She laughs softly. “Something like that, yeah. I dreamed about working in gleaming skyscrapers in major cities,overseeing billion-dollar deals and being on the front line of cutthroat competition. It was my big dream.”
“And you really can’t do it now?”
“No,” she says, shaking her head. “It’s been years since I was at college, and I never completed the final degree. No one would hire me with that resume.”
“And you ended up… cleaning?” I ask in disbelief.
“Yes,” she says, looking me right in the eye. “I did any job I could to support my baby girl. I’ve happily worked three jobs at a time to pay the rent and make sure I provide for her.”
“I see,” is all I can say.
Sadie doesn’t give me a chance to ask another question, just heads back towards the food court. I can tell by the look on her face that she’s disgusted.
“I guess it’s back to cleaning or serving,” she mutters. “It won’t be so bad if it’s part-time.”
“Actually, wait,” I say. “I know someone who needs a hand. It’s not finance—but you’d probably be in charge of the books there.”
