“I bet you’d be a big, big help.” Her eyes twinkled.
“Hey!” I said, feigning offense. “I am helpful. And thrifty, brave, courteous, and kind.”
She laughed. “Boy Scout, huh?”
I nodded. “Oh yeah. All the way to Eagle.”
“So, where are we going?” she asked.
“See that crazy-looking spaceship thing down on the point?”
She nodded.
“That’s my house. This company called Deltec came up with these, and it’s shaped like an octagon because it’s a hurricane-proof house,” I said. “And you can see the water from every single room. Admittedly, if you’re standing in the entryway, you kind of have to lean over. But, otherwise, water as far as the eye can see.”
“That’s really cool. I’ve never heard of anything like that.”
Her phone dinged and she looked down at it in her hand. “Jane is awake and eating!” She turned her phone to me. “Look how adorable.”
I scrunched my nose.
“You don’t think she’s adorable?”
“No, she’s adorable. I just hate that she’s Jane Doe. She doesn’t even look like a Jane, and she’s not a body waiting to be identified.”
“Thanks to you,” Daisy said, squeezing my arm.
Pride welled in my chest again.
“Okay,” Daisy said. “So what would you like to call her?”
Without missing a beat, I said, “Mason Junior,” and the cutest little laugh escaped her throat.
“Hey,” she said, “I feel like I was kind of a part of this too, you know. I mean, I took charge.”
“All right. You get a vote. But I have veto privileges.”
“How about Eugenia?”
I stopped walking, dead in my tracks. “You want to name that cute, tiny babyEugenia?” I said like I was drinking dishwater.
“And what’s wrong with Eugenia?”
“Nothing. Absolutely nothing. If you are eighty years old.”
She crossed her arms. “That is my middle name.”
Oops. “Daisy Eugenia Stevens?”
“It’s Marguerite Eugenia, actually.”
I was confused.
“?‘Marguerite’ means ‘daisy’ in French. So, Daisy,” she explained.
This distinct image popped up in my mind that I couldn’t quite place. Some atoms were firing and then—bam! Man, memory is amazing. “Maisy,” I said. “We shall call her Maisy after Daisy-head Maisy in the Dr. Seuss books, plus, even better”—I pointed at her and then me—“Mason plus Daisy.”
Daisy smiled and put her hand to her heart. She held up the picture again and we both stared at it for a long moment. “She’s such a Maisy!” Daisy said.
