“Yeah, text me when you’re on the way.” I end the call with Connor and exhale a sigh of relief, not realizing how tense and stressful it is dealing with my younger brother. Mom spent more time bailing his ass out rather than teaching the kid a lesson growing up.
There’s a soft patter of footsteps in the hallway and massive giggles that follow.
“You can come in,” I say. It sounds like they’re just outside of the kitchen. How much of the conversation did they hear?
“Sorry, we didn’t mean to interrupt,” Clare says as she carries a giggling Amelia in her arms. She plants the little one’s feet back on the ground.
“Up!” Amelia squeals, and shoves her arms back up in the air.
Clare grunts and lifts my daughter in her arms, pretending to fly her around like an airplane. I can tell she’s doing it to entertain Amelia, but it isn’t easy on her. I’d offer to help, but I’ve got work to do.
“There’s plenty of food in the fridge and pantry. Find something healthy for Amelia. If you want anything, there’s a list on the fridge. Add to it.”
“Thanks,” Clare says, her voice soft.
I try not to stare at her. She’s still in her pajamas, and so is Amelia.
“I’m going to have Douglas pick up some playthings for Amelia along with clothes. She should have one more outfit in the backpack upstairs that she can wear today.”
“Okay.” Clare is softer this morning when she speaks, quieter and less rambunctious than yesterday.
I’m not sure why. Perhaps she feels out of her element in my home.
Good.
Keep the woman on her toes. I don’t need her mouthing off to me in front of Amelia.
“I’ll be in my office. If you need anything, it’s the first door on the left.” I point in the direction that I’m heading.
“Thanks. We should be fine.”
I pour a second cup of coffee and take it with me into my home office. I haven’t used this place in what feels like forever. I don’t typically take work home with me. Instead, I spend late nights at the office if I have to pore over documents and contracts.
I text Douglas to pick up clothes for Amelia along with the sizes on her last outfit, which was mostly the T-shirt and leggings. The frilly tutu didn’t have a size. It might have been handmade.
Is that why Amelia hadn’t wanted to part with it?
I also mention to him that she likes Supergirl and everything princess related.
What kid doesn’t?he texts back.
He makes a good point. I let him handle the clothing, and he suggests grabbing one of my old tablets and letting Amelia pick out some toys on an app. I can text him what she likes, and he can pick up whatever is in store and in stock.
If that’s enough to distract me, I also need to enroll Amelia in kindergarten. Which means investigating the private schools around the city and finding the one that offers the best curriculum.
I have a lot on my plate in addition to my typical workload, which is overwhelming at the moment.
I take a swig of the coffee, the added jolt helping me focus and knock out one task at a time.
After an hour, I receive a text from my assistant that she’s pulling up out front of the house. While she has her own code to enter the premises, the front door is manually locked, and no one but Douglas has a spare key.
Douglas is my right-hand man; he’s not just my driver. I’d trust the man with my life.
I head out of the office and for the front door, yanking it open. Nancy is carrying a stack of folders and files.
I shut the door behind her and lock the latch. “Here,” I say, taking the files from her before she drops them all over my floor.
“Thanks.” She glances around. It’s not the first time she’s been here. A few months ago, I needed emergency surgery after my appendix nearly burst, and she came by with a get-well basket and a dozen files of shit that needed doing while I was recuperating.