“Of course,” I say, remembering our place is downstairs and we’re not actually guests. Well, we are, but we aren’t. “Come on, Amelia.” I hold my hand out to her. “I’ll show you where we’re going to be staying for the next week.”
“Bye, Christian,” she practically sings. Then she stops suddenly, looking back at him as she grasps my fingers. “Will you help me build Frosty later?”
He smiles. “Yeah, sure.”
Her green eyes sparkle. My daughter is deep into her very first crush.
Like mother, like daughter,I think absently, then roll my eyes at myself.
After giving her the tour of the basement, she plops onto the couch and sighs. “Mommy, there are no toys here.”
“Carter is getting our things from the car. We’ll have some of your toys and books unpacked before bedtime.”
She looks at the television and sighs again, this time more dramatically. “There isn’t a PlayStation. Can we go back to the car place?”
“You’ve gone without one this long, baby. I think you’ll live.”
“But I got to play Ms. Kinney’s. She’s not here. Will we get to see her again?”
“We don’t live in New York City anymore, sweetie, so probably not.”
She glances around. “We live here now?”
“Only for a little while, remember? Until our car is fixed.”
Her lower lip quivers. “I’ll miss Christian.”
I almost laugh but catch myself. I don’t want to hurt her feelings. Besides, she’s not the only one who’ll miss someone. NowI’mthe one sighing.
“Mommy, I’m bored.”
I take her hands and pull her off the couch. “Come on, you can help me strip the bed and throw in some laundry.”
“That’s not fun at all.”
“Hey, now. Remember what Bug said about being good and helpful and all that?”
“And I’ll get pink hair?”
“Okay, maybe not pink hair.” I think on it when she starts to pout. “But maybe a PlayStation.”
She instantly perks up, runs ahead of me, and starts throwing pillows off the bed to get to the sheets beneath. I laugh and follow. Who knew my child could be bribed so easily?
I cover my face with my hands, cringing in disgust. Because, again, like mother, like daughter.
A few minutes later, after putting a load of sheets in the washing machine and finding a cartoon for Amelia to watch, I’m rummaging through the ‘kitchen’ cabinets—all two of them—to see what I have to work with. It’s not much. I assume Carter figured he and Christian would still eat together upstairs so there are just a few basic things here like plates and glasses and utensils. But definitely no coffee machine. This just won’t do. Ineeda coffee maker. With my addiction, I can’t very well bother Carter and Christian several times a day by going up to use theirs.
I need to get to a store.
I pull up my Uber app to see if it’s even a possibility in this little town. It is. But I hesitate before ordering one. It’ll show up as a charge on my credit card. Before continuing, I check my most recent credit card statement on my phone, noting it doesn’t show the actual location of my last Uber charge. Relieved, I go ahead and order the largest SUV I can get and request a forward-facing car seat. The wait is an hour, so I finish washing the sheets and towels in the meantime.
I wonder if I should tell Christian we’re leaving. I’ve never been anyone’s houseguest before, even if I am paying to be here, and I’m not sure of the protocol. I decide not to, but figure it can’t hurt to leave a note on my little kitchen table in case anyone should come looking for us. I have no idea when Carter will get back, and I’m sure he would wonder where we’d run off to without a car or any of our things.
Before I have the note written, I get a notification that my Uber has been cancelled.Sigh. Why did it even get accepted in the first place? I wonder if they couldn’t wrangle up a car seat.
“So much for our little adventure,” I mumble.
Amelia looks up from her show. “We’re going on an adventure? To make a Frosty?”
