She looks at me. “What?”
“Snowflakes in October?”
She rolls her eyes. “It’s the name of the town. We have snowflake themes all year round.”
“Exactly my point.”
“Do I need to put you in a time-out? You may be easy on the eyes, but you can’t get away with dissing my choice of art project. So begone.”
“Begone?” At least she noticed my biceps.
“Scram. I could have brought a pumpkin and been more seasonally correct. But I can tell Belle is a snowflake girl. She digsFrozen.”
Poppy has me there. My daughter is obsessed with the movie.
“I love snowflakes,” Belle says. “But I’m not very good at drawing them.”
“That’s why I’m here. This is going to be the best snowflake painting in the history of Snowflake Harbor.” She flashes an impish smile at me, her dimple on full alert.
I shuffle, needing to escape her force field. Everything about the scene is too inviting. The two of them in my living room, looking fresh-faced and bright on a Sunday morning.
“Okay. Well, I guess I’ll just begone, then.” My mouth kicks up in a small smile against my will.
“Unless you’d like a lesson as well?”
“I’ll pass,” I say, though the idea of Poppy up close and personal giving me other lessons is way too appealing. “I need to shower. When I’m done, I’ll be in the library working, if you need anything. There.” I point to a room next to my gym.
“Father starts shooting his movie tomorrow. That’s when the nanny arrives.” Belle glowers.
Guilt churns in my belly. Belle is upset at having yet another caregiver watching her, in what I understand is a long line of them. But we need a live-in nanny. Once production officially starts tomorrow, I’ll have little to no control over my schedule, with long hours, late nights, and early morning calls.
“I’m sure your nanny will be nice,” Poppy says. “Imagine all the fun you’ll have.”
“I guess.” Belle pauses. “I wishyoucould be my nanny. Father, why can’t she be my nanny?”
I freeze, imagining us having dinner at the large wooden kitchen table. Poppy’s laughter. Poppy wearing just my T-shirt making breakfast. Why the nanny would wear my shirt is not explained in my vivid daydream.
“If I were your nanny, silly, I wouldn’t be your art teacher.”
“You could be both. Please, Father. This new nanny could be mean. What if she hates me?”
I kneel to my daughter and take her small hand.
“I’ve already hired someone, and she’s on her way to us. It wouldn’t be fair to fire her now. But I promise you, we won’t keep anyone who is mean. I’m sure she’ll love you.” The wordlovefeels thick on my tongue.
“If you say so,” she says dully.
“Come here, Belle. If you don’t watch me mix the paint, you’ll miss the best part.”
“But isn’t painting the picture the best part?”
“I’ll tell you a secret.” Poppy bends down to my daughter. “They’re all the best part,” she says in a loud whisper.
Belle giggles, and the sounds of their mingled laughter carry through me.
Poppy looks up as I hover, unsure of what to do. “We’re fine. Go shower,” she says with a raised eyebrow and a slight flush.
I nod. A feeling I don’t recognize washes over me. It might be peace. Perhaps contentment. It’s similar to what I felt in the elevator when they were singing together.
