“Okay,” she told no one, and lifted her chin like the apartment could hear her and talk back. If it could, it would tell her she’d used too much organic lemon cleaner and the amount of toys she’d purchased bordered on ridiculous.
Too bad. Olive Leighton was going to have fun or Tessa would die trying.
With two minutes left, she did one last lap around her small but cheery home, inspecting it for baby readiness. The outlets were covered. Candy Land, Chutes ‘n’ Ladders, and no less than five wooden puzzles were stacked for easy access. The tiny table and chairs were ready for their first tea party. A basket of rubber blocks and thick board books sat on a coffee table that had padding on sharp corners.
She wandered down the hallway to look at the guest room—now Olive’s room, the doorway protected by a small gate. The toddler bed that Dusty had built with impressive Allen wrenchskills and an endless supply of patience was nestled in the corner under a window. Tessa had covered it with a pink gingham comforter and a few too many stuffed animals.
Wasthere such a thing as too many stuffed animals? “I think not,” Tessa murmured, moving her last-minute inspection to the hall bathroom.
There, a nightlight glowed faintly in the corner and a little stepstool waited at the bathroom sink.
She’d even set out a brand-new Little Mermaid toothbrush on the counter. On the tub, a bottle of bubble bath stood next to four rubber duckies lined up like a squadron of cheery yellow soldiers.
Tessa paused in the doorway and tried to picture Olive splish-splashing and giggling while she blew bubbles. She could hear a small voice asking for another story,pwease, Miss Tessa!She could already sense the love in a hug goodnight before lights-out time.
It wasn’t hard to imagine any of that, because she’d been thinking about having Olive stay here every minute since she’d made the suggestion. At Dusty’s request, she hadn’t told anyone about their plans. She knew anything could happen—Morgan could change her mind or run off or find another solution—but none of those things had.
More importantly, she had to respect client confidentiality and Morgan’s deeply personal situation.
In about one minute, she’d have this little girl in her home for a month. When the time was right, she’d tell friends and family they were doing a favor for one of Dusty’s patients. For now, for today, all that mattered was that she bond with Olive.
And bond she would. Through toys, games, special treats…whatever it took to give this child joy and fill this home with girlish giggles.
Confident she could do that, Tessa walked back into the kitchen just as she heard a car pull into the driveway.
Okay, then.Showtime.
The sound of footsteps on the stairs would come next—Dusty’s steady stride, his voice calling up, the door cracking open, a high-pitched, “Hewwo.”
She waited, but heard nothing. The quiet stretched long enough for her to go to the front window and see Dusty’s truck parked in the driveway, no people, no child, no bag, nothing.
Finally, the driver’s door opened, and Dusty stepped out and looked right up at her, as if he fully expected Tessa to be looking out her window. Instantly, she saw a look of frustration and a plea for help in his eyes.
Tessa didn’t hesitate. She darted to the door and down the outside stairs to the driveway.
When she got there, Dusty had moved to the passenger side of the truck. As Tessa walked closer, that door opened and Dusty reached a hand to help Morgan out of the truck.
“C’mon,” he said gently. “At least stand out here to say goodbye and I’ll get her things. Look, Tessa’s here.”
Tessa quickened her stride, watching Morgan step out slowly, moving with zombie-like energy.
She looked more fragile than when Tessa had met her the first time. Or maybe she carried herself differently today, with her shoulders rounded forward, her face pale under the bright July sun.
When she’d come in to see Dusty and he’d presented their idea and introduced Tessa, Morgan had seemed brighter and slightly more hopeful. Not today.
Her hair was pulled into a sloppy knot, and she wore sweatpants and an oversized hoodie that looked downright painful in this heat. Her expression teetered between terrifiedand despondent, her vitality so low it was a wonder she managed to dress and pack for herself, let alone a child.
She looked in Tessa’s direction and lifted a sad hand in a partial wave.
“Hey, Morgan,” Tessa said.
Wordlessly, Dusty opened the cab door, leaning into the truck’s back seat. He spoke in soft tones, too quiet for Tessa to hear, as he unlatched a car seat belt and reached in for Olive.
A second later, he turned, holding a tiny child wearing a mismatched pajama top and bottoms, sneakers with no socks, and a wild mess of yellow curls that hadn’t seen a hairbrush in…a while. Easing her to the ground, Dusty slowly straightened as if he expected his little visitor to run.
But she stood rooted to that spot, gaze down, thumb in mouth, tiny shoulders rising and falling with each breath.
“Well, you must be Olive,” Tessa said, stepping around Morgan to greet the child. “Hello. I’m Tessa.”
