"Do you like my Daddy Cameron?"
"He's my boss," I say carefully. "Everybody has to be nice to their boss."
"I didn't ask if you had to be nice to him. I asked whether you liked him. They're two different questions."
I pause, remembering his notebook entry about my family, the way he'd looked at me when I handed him his guitar.
"I like him as an employer," I say diplomatically.
"Do you like him as a friend?"
"Posey, an employer is not a friend. An employer pays you money. If your daddy didn't pay me money, I wouldn't be here."
"Oh," she says, processing this adult reality. "Well, I think he's very nice and that you should like him."
"I'll keep that in mind. Now let's go join your father downstairs."
CHAPTER 20
CAMERON
An hour later, I take Posey's hand and help her into the backseat of the Rolls-Royce. Tara and Edison follow. The girls seem eager for a walk down Nantucket's Main Street on a sunny day.
Posey sits between Tara and me. She wears a formal dress too fancy for a casual stroll. But when I mention it, she touches the fabric reverently.
"It was Grandmama's favorite dress," she says, looking at Tara in her T-shirt and jeans. "But I like what you're wearing, Tara. You look like you're ready for fun!"
"I am ready for fun!" Tara tickles Posey until she dissolves into giggles.
For a few precious moments, my daughter's usual stern expression melts away into pure childhood joy.
"We could go shopping for some jeans like mine if your father agrees."
Posey turns to me with wide, hopeful eyes. "Daddy Cameron, can we go shopping?"
"It's not my decision. You can call your own shots."
"Goody!" she exclaims, practically vibrating with anticipation.
It's a short, scenic drive. We're there before we know it.
The Rolls pulls up and turns right onto the waterfront walk. "Where should I stop, sir?" Henry asks from the driver's seat.
"Right here is fine."
Everyone on the street seems to stare as we emerge. I can't tell if it's because of the conspicuous car. Or because they recognize me. Probably both.
"What do people do on a boardwalk?" Posey asks, positioning herself between Tara and me and taking both our hands.
"We walk," Tara explains to Posey with a smile.
"And good little girls get ice cream cones," I add, watching my daughter's face light up. "But only the best little girls get vanilla swirl ice cream with sprinkles."
"I am that girl!" Posey declares confidently.
The shops with their quaint Nantucket baskets and tourist T-shirts gradually give way to boats as we approach the harbor.
"Look, Daddy Cameron! All these boats. Some of them are super big," Posey marvels.
