No, no. She wasn’t going to worry about the storm today. She had bigger problems—one just thirty pounds and sound asleep upstairs, taking her morning nap.
Not that Olive was a problem—au contraire! The tiny two-year-old with flaxen curls and heartbreaking blue eyes was, along with Dusty, the greatest joy Tessa had ever known.
She gave a grunt and stared at the refrigerator shelf.
That great joy was also a small blueberry addict and there wasn’t one in the house. Would it be considered “spoiling” little Olive Oyl if Tessa begged Dusty to make a blueberry run to Publix? Or was that an act of selfless love?
Parenting didn’t come that naturally, did it? Loving did, but parenting? Maybe fiftywastoo old to become a mom. Maybe this was a challenge that Tessa would?—
“Tess?” Dusty called from his office, her ears detecting the tiniest note of strain.
Okay, no Publix, no blueberries, and maybe no stairs. Not with that “a patient needs me” voice. She understood. He was a grief therapist, so when those calls came, he made room in his schedule—one of the many things she loved about Dusty.
Before she could respond, he came down the hall, a look of true concern behind his black-rimmed glasses. His graying dark hair, cut neatly for their wedding yesterday, looked as if he’d run his hands through it a few times.
“What’s wrong?” she asked.
“Nothing is wrong. Something is very right.” He held up his phone. “Lynda Roberts.”
“Yes?” She knew who Lynda was—the person who held their fate in her hands. “The social worker handling the adoption,” she said. “The lady who works for Sunshine State Family Connections.”
Tessa had studied the adoption process with the same intensity she gave to a new client for her event planning business. She understood that a licensed child-placing agency, working under the Florida Department of Children and Families, would manage the adoption. With a living mothervoluntarily putting Olive up for adoption due to her inability to raise a child, theirs was an unusual case. But certainly not an impossible one.
“Yes, that Lynda,” he confirmed. “She’s on her way over.”
Tessa stared at him, feeling her jaw drop as her mind whirred. “On her wayhere?”
“She should be here in forty minutes.”
Blinking, Tessa put a hand on her chest and croaked, “What?”
“Tess. Honey. Take a breath. It’s fine. It’s the next step. It’s all good.”
Good? Had he looked around lately? “Our living room has no floor.”
“It has a floor, just not a pretty finished hardwood floor. It will.”
“Not in forty minutes.”
“Well, I’m good, but not that good.”
She shook her head, finding no humor in this situation. “Dusty, there is no handrail on the stairs.”
“We’ll explain the renovation and that we’re using outside stairs. There’s a monitor right there that allows us to see and hear Olive in her room. She’ll understand.”
“But…but…” She looked around, disbelief sliding into…frantic. “There is drywall dust on every horizontal surface in this house. We have atoddler.A toddler that the State of Florida does not technically know is sleeping upstairs.”
“They know,” he assured her. “Lynda and I just talked about it. She signed the paperwork that approved this arrangement while Morgan completes her residential program and the legal documents are filed. Lynda just wants to see the home environment, which is part of the process. This won’t be the last home visit.”
“October,” she said. “You told me they’d come in October. Is it even September yet?”
“Just about.” He took a few steps closer and put a calming hand on her shoulder. “I saidbyOctober, babe. This is how it works. They do drop-ins. She does not call ahead and give people three days to vacuum or build stairs. She wants the real version of our lives, not the staged one.”
“The real version,” Tessa said, “has a missing floor.”
“The real version has me, you, and a sweet angel who calls youTess-Tessand reaches for you across the room. Lynda knows what she’s walking into.”
Tessa took another breath. This one helped. A little. Dusty leaned over and kissed her, very lightly on the mouth. That helped a lot.
