Chapter Three
Lilly
Breakfasts with Marley on Saturdays take place later than usual. Mr. Hart always has some work in the morning, meetings or whatever else people like him have to do on a weekend, so I come around the time when he has to leave, but Marley is allowed to sleep in. Our Saturdays are usually spent at the park, strolling through a museum, visiting a nearby library or something like that. Marley is a very curious little thing, and it is an absolutely pleasure to feed that curiosity.
I’m still in the kitchen when Mr. Hart peers through the doorway. He lifts his hand at me, a weak effort at waving goodbye.
“I’m off,” he tells me. “I should be back around two.”
“Alright,” I nod, stopping to lift my gaze from the pb and j sandwich I’m making for Marley, her classic Saturday breakfast, along with a glass of orange juice.
He hesitates for a moment, then decides to ask something he usually doesn’t. “What will you two do today?”
I’m a bit taken aback by this question, as it’s usually Marley’s desire to tell him all about what we’ve done on a Saturday afternoon, which is when I leave the two of them together and my job continues on Monday morning.
“Marley wants to go on a picnic to the park,” I tell him. “We’ll pick up some croissants and lemonade from Betty’s Bakery on the way there.”
“Oh,” he nods. “OK.”
I wonder what he meant by it. Even though I’ve been working for him for a few months now, it seems like we just can’t seem to find each other on the same wavelengths, like there is a wall between us which is preventing us from having a normal conversation like two normal people.
I guess it doesn’t matter. It’s not like we’re friends or anything. We should just respect each other, and that part we have covered. He has never looked at me in the wrong way. He pays on time. He even adds bonuses, which, truth be told, I’m not even sure I deserved. Taking care of Marley is more of a pleasure than a job, because she is such a clever child. You’d think she’s spoiled, because her dad is a billionaire who’s barely home, but taking everything into account, she’s one down to earth kid and that makes spending time with her all the more pleasurable.
Unfortunately, I can’t say that about her dad. It seems that the two of them differ completely when it comes to personalities. While Marley is open and easy going, Mr. Hart is closed and reserved, speaking in only the few, select words which he thinks are necessary for the conversation. Marley will tell you everything from the beginning, describing every little detail, no matter how small or insignificant it seemed. To her, it’s an equally important part of the story.
I nod as well, mirroring his action, adding the same word. “OK.” It echoes his own comment, making the air around us tighter than a violin string. Our gazes lock, and for some reason, neither of us wants to turn away.
What I’ve noticed about him is that he seems to be in a perpetually broody mood, unless he’s with Marley. Then, he transforms into a man I don’t know. He stops being Dominic Hart, the grumpy billionaire, and becomes just Marley’s dad. That is the guy I would like to get to know but I’ll never get the chance for it. It would mean crossing a line, and I’m not willing to risk losing a great job such as this one, a job that will get me through college and help me reach the goal I’ve been dreaming of my entire life.
The sound of footsteps brings me back to the present moment. Marley is still rubbing her eyes sleepily when she appears behind Mr. Hart.
“Daddy?” she calls out to him sweetly.
“Yes, princess?” He immediately turns to her and lowers himself to his knees, so that they would be on the same eye level. This wakes her up instantly. She wraps her arms around his neck and gets into his face.
“You are joining us for the picnic today, aren’t you?” she asks, and I don’t think I can tell who’s more surprised to hear her question, Mr. Hart or me. I can see the confusion in his eyes, and his unwillingness to let it show.
“You know I would love to, Marley,” he tells her, “but I have a meeting today. I’ll be finished earlier, so we can do whatever you want afterwards.”
Marley pulls away a little, but her arms remain wrapped up around his neck. She tilts her head a little, and her curls all tip to one side.
“Did you forget?” she asks.
From the look on his face, I can see that he has. Whatever it was he was supposed to remember, he forgot it.
“You forgot,” she pouts.
“I did?” he wonders, sounding apologetic. “What was it?”
“You lost a bet, remember?” she reminds him, and he instantly lights up.
“Ah, yes!” He pats himself playfully on the forehead. I can’t imagine Dominic Hart the billionaire doing this at work, in front of any of his associates, but he does it so freely with her, even in front of me. I don’t know where exactly that places me, but a part of me is glad I got to witness something no one else can.
He quickly recounts the tale of the lost bet, which is basically just a silly old guessing game where she guessed right and he guessed wrong, but she took it very seriously, and his lost bet meant that he would need to spend one whole Saturday with her. From the looks of it, she reminded him of that sometime last week, and he promised her that last Saturday was a no go, but this Saturday he’d do it for sure. Seems like he forgot.
“Why don’t I give you guys some privacy?” I suggest, feeling like the third wheel here, especially seeing that he was feeling inadequate and trying to explain to Marley why he forgot something so important.