What an absolutelyfantasticstart to the day, the week, the new year.
But at least the cabbie had already pulled away by the time Ava ran into the road, and I didn’t have to watch a little girl get run over.
Good God, that was scary.
And way too close for comfort. She didn’t so much as glance at the street before she dashed through the gate and into themiddle of it. And sure, the Kates live in a cul-de-sac, where there isn’t a lot of traffic, but that doesn’t mean she should assume that it’s safe to run out into the street—anystreet—without checking to be sure.
We’re going to work on safe street-crossing protocols ASAP.
And in the meantime…
Well, in the meantime, I’ll just try to take excellent care of the girls until we go our separate ways. Even if that separation comes a lot sooner than I was expecting.
As Dean’s truck rounds the corner and disappears, I herd the girls back inside, where I lock the deadboltandthe little button lock in the middle of the knob before setting Bella down and dragging my suitcase in front of the door for good measure.
Ava watches me, a guilty expression on her face.
But she doesn’t make any promisesnotto make a break for it in the future.
Nope, there are no promises, no assurances, just a mildly repentant gleam in her blue eyes as she asks, “Do you want to see my room, Clover? And my toys?”
“Yes, for sure, I do,” I say. “Just let me tidy up the kitchen a little, and I’ll be right up.” I turn to Bella, who’s still practically glued to my thigh. “Do you want to go play with Ava in her room, Bella? Or would you rather come help me clean up breakfast and load the dishwasher?”
“I come help you, Cwover,” she says, thrusting her arms up toward me.
“Okay, great.” I scoop her up, balancing her with one arm as I reach for my cane against the wall with the other.
I’m having a good leg day, thank goodness. If I weren’t, I might not be able to hold Bella this much.
But it’s been a rough morning, what with Ava going missing, Grammy flying home, and a new nanny in the house. Once we’ve established our routine and she feels safe and comfortable, sheprobably won’t need as much holding. And she’s a sweet little girl. I’m sure if I told her that my leg was tired, and I needed to cuddle her on the couch instead of toting her around on my hip, she would understand.
We’ll both learn to make accommodations to get the job done, and things will be just fine.
Unless I’m fired, of course.
Yay, uncertainty! My favorite.
I head into the kitchen to corral the coffee cups and tidy the sticky mess on the table by Bella’s booster seat, still spiraling.
Dean istotallygoing to fire me, and I really can’t blame him, I guess.
I blame Tasha.
How could a woman who’s called meCloverto my face in every interaction we’ve ever had, tell my new employer my name was Meredith?
Meredith.
Who the heck is she? I have no memory of being called Meredith or Merry or anything else. I’ve always gone by my middle name, the hippy one my hippy mother gave me, because clovers are good luck, and I was her lucky baby girl.
She’d tried to get pregnant for years with her ex-husband before accidentally getting knocked up with me. She was nearly forty and thought her window for having a child had closed. Then, one night after a Cinco de Mayo party where the tequila had flowed a bit too freely, my father, her first and only one-night stand, made her dreams come true. She didn’t even know his last name, so it wasn’t easy to track him down when those two little lines appeared on the test. And when shedideventually make contact, Dad told her he wasn’t interested in being a parent.
But that was fine with Mom. She swore she was excited to raise me alone without any “stinky boys” around to ruin the fun.
At least that’s what my father told me.
I don’t remember much about my mom except how safe I felt in her arms and how sad I was the day the policeman picked me up from daycare, taking me to my father’s house, where he told me I would live from now on.
But even my father—whom I’d only met a few times at that point—knew to call me Clover. The only person who’s ever called me Meredith was my stepmother, and I’m pretty sure she did it specifically because sheknewI hated it.
