Sure you did, old lady.
“Juliette!” I look up to see my sugar plum racing out the door. “I love your hair. Can I cut mine shorter?”
Over my dead body.Literally. Harrison would kill me if I cut off her long, thick hair.
“I’m going to grow it again after this, so you need to keep it long so my hair can match yours. Plus, if you cut it now, we won’t be able to do all the fun braids we’ve been testing out.”
She runs her hair along her fishtail braids. “Yeah, you’re right. These are so cool.”
“They are. Do you want to change before the park?” I ask.
She puts her hand in mine and swings it back and forth with a sparkle in her eye. “How about we go to The Little Baker instead and get a treat before the park.”
“Only if you say it the proper way. Le Petit Boulanger,” I say in French. “Repeat it slowly—Le.”
Her face drops. “Fine. Le.”
“Petit.”
“Petit.” She says perfectly, even with a slight French accent.
“Bou-lan-ger.”
“I can’t say that word.” She stomps her foot.
My sweet girl takes after her father when it comes to perfection. “Try it once, please, and go slow.”
She does it. It’s not perfect, but for someone just learning, it’s great.
“Good job, you’re a natural, Claud.” I put my hand up to high-five her, but she pouts and keeps walking.
“I didn’t say it like you. It was bad.”
“No, it wasn’t, I promise. It takes time to speak it the way Daddy and I do. Do you know who else speaks French?”
“Who?”
“Inès, and you can practice with her anytime you want. She’s the one who taught me.”
“Oh. Okay.” She smiles. She loves my mom, and I think it would be better if she taught her how to speak French and German rather than Harrison or me. She needs a neutral setting where she doesn’t feel pressured. “Is your leg okay?” She looks at me, her expression quickly changing to concern.
“It’s okay, Claud. Some days are worse than others.”
“Okay.” She looks down again. “We can walk another day.”
I squeeze her little hand. She’s like a mini-Harrison. “Walking and stretching sometimes helps, and it’s not a far walk.”
“Okay, but first chocolate cupcakes!”
“Stay where I can see you, and if you need help on the monkey bars again, come and ask me so you don’t fall and hurt yourself.” I point to the bench. “This is the bench I’ll be sitting on.”
“Okay.” Claud gives me a thumbs-up and runs toward a little girl she often plays with at the playground.
“Hey,” I answer my phone, “Are you almost here?”
“Your incompetence will not be tolerated in my company,” Harrison’s CEO voice booms over the phone. “We’re at risk of losing the account because the portfolios you manage haven’t been performing. You better figure out a way to adjust the strategy to fix this. Otherwise, it’s your ass on the line, not mine.” Then I hear a phone slam down.
“Um, hello?”
