I check the clock on the microwave.
8:56.
Four more minutes.
But who’s counting?
When my phone buzzes on the counter with an incoming text, my shoulders tense expecting it to be Sarah’s parents or my lawyer.
Instead, it’s the front desk.
Carl:
Ms. Van Doren is here.
My stomach knots.
“Is it her?” Elody asks, running into the kitchen.
“Yup.” I clear my throat and type a quick message to send her up. “She’s here.”
Elody races toward the elevator.
“Walk, please,” I call after her. “You have feet. Use them normally.”
The request is ignored in her excitement.
I follow at a slower pace, forcing my expression into something neutral. Something that reflects our professional relationship. Like I didn’t just wipe down the counters for a third time because a stray crumb caught my eye.
The elevator chimes, announcing its arrival, as Elody skids to a halt and the metal doors slide open. Kia stands on the other side. Her cheeks are pink from the cold, and her blonde hair is pulled up in a messy bun. Much like the other day, she’s wearing jeans and sneakers along with a crossbody bag slung across her chest. There’s a reusable grocery bag held in one hand.
How is it possible she looks more dangerous than the polished women I meet at the Railers’ charity functions?
“Morning,” she says with a shy smile.
I lift a hand, trying to appear casual when I’m feeling anything but. “Hey.”
Elody flings herself at Kia’s legs. “You’re back!”
With a laugh, Kia leans down to hug her. “Told you I would be, silly.”
The simple way she says it burrows beneath my skin. As if she’s already become someone my little girl can count on.
“I brought a few things,” Kia adds, glancing up at me. “I hope that’s okay.”
She lifts the bag. Inside, I glimpse a picture book, a tube of cookie dough, a box of noodles, and a few other things.
“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to bribe her with sweets,” she says quickly. “I just thought we could bake cookies later on.”
The fact that she planned activities for the two of them catches me off guard. As great as Katie was, that never happened.
“Yeah, that’s fine,” I manage. “Come on in.”
She toes off her shoes without being asked. Elody chatters nonstop as she drags Kia toward the living room, showing off the toys she was just playing with. I watch them interact for a few seconds—two blonde heads bent together, their hair nearly the exact same shade.
For some reason, that simple sight is all it takes for emotion to surge within me, knocking me off balance with the quiet realization of how easily this young woman fits into my daughter’s world.
I turn toward the kitchen, not allowing myself to linger. “Do you want to see where everything is?” I call out. “Meals and snacks and stuff?”
