of fairies. What little girl doesn’t adore the sort of creature who leaves gifts for the kind-hearted and teases the surly?
Hmm. Maybe Carson Hayes is a fairy.
An outsized one?
There are few four-year-olds equipped to read the works of W.B. Yeats themselves, but maybe he didn’t know that, not being a parent himself. Whatever the case, it looks like, for the foreseeable future, I’ll be reading W.B. Yeats to a bit of greenery under the supervision of a four-year-old dictator. Sorry, manager.
“Hmm.” Lulu’s expression turns thoughtful as she taps her finger against her cheek. “I can’t read that good. Maybe we can find some on YouTube, and they can listen from my iPad instead?”
“That’s a really good idea.”
“A good idea that deserves pancakes for breakfast?”
Rose is right. This kid will probably end up ruling the world.
12
Fee
“Get a wriggle on, Lulu. We’re going to be late.” My heels hammer against the marble foyer, and I’m already regretting that I didn’t slip on a pair of flats. “I know it’s called the school run,” I throw over my shoulder, “but that doesn’t mean we have to dash in at the last minute every day.”
“I can’t be fast on Mondays. Also, my feets don’t have wheels,” she retorts as she continues to dawdle.
“Good morning, ma’am.” Mr Martinez, the night doorman—porter?—is still on duty, and he beats me to the door.
“Morning.” I pull my skirt a little from where it’s bunched at my thighs. “I think wheels ought to be included on the four-year-old model, at least between the hours of seven and nine in the morning.” I turn back to my daughter as she idles along, her tiny pink backpack strapped to her back as she watches dust motes swirling idly in a shaft of sunlight almost in a state of wonder.
How could anyone be angry with something so darling?
Frustrated? Now that’s another story.
“I’m sorry?” His voice brings me back from my ruminations, and I give my head a quick shake.
“Kids have two speeds Monday through Friday. Stop and slow.”
“So true,” I reply with a chuckle. “Do you have children?”
“Two girls. My eldest, Sophia, is a senior. She’s looking for a babysitting job if you don’t mind me mentioning it.”
“No, I don’t mind at all.”
“It’s just, you don’t seem to have a nanny or anything, and she has experience—lots of little cousins—and references, too.”
Nanny. Pah! We don’t even belong here, Mr. Martinez.
Not that I’m going to confide any of that in him.
“I don’t really go out much in the evenings,” I answer with a tiny shrug. Even as I do, it strikes me as a good plan to have someone lined up as an emergency backup. I’ll be moving soon, fingers crossed, but there can be no harm in asking to meet the girl.
“Miss Eloise goes to the French school, right? Sophia’s high school is nearby. You know, if you ever need her to . . .”
“Help with the school run? Actually, that’s a really good idea.” Especially as I’d been offered a spot to run an early morning yoga class at the clinic last week. I wonder if I can tell them I’ve changed my mind.
“Ed,” he prompts. “And if you find you ever need her in the evenings, she could come in with me. And we live close by, so getting home is no problem.”
While I don’t think my conscience could cope with sending a teenager out into the streets of Manhattan at night, the idea of having someone else to rely on is becoming more and more appealing. “Maybe I could meet her?” I say as Lulu reaches the door. Finally!
“Sure. Anytime.” He beams widely back at me, which makes me wonder if I’m doing him a favour rather than the other way around.
“Come on then, mon petit chou.” Oops. I forgot I’m not supposed to call Lu that outdoors. It’s bad for a four-year-old’s street cred or something.
“One other thing, ma’am? We need to enter the apartment today for maintenance work.”
“Oh. Does Mr Hayes know?” My stomach flips as his name passes my lips.
“Er, yeah.” The man tugs on his ear, suddenly shifting from foot to foot. “We received his instruction this morning.”
I bite back the urge to ask if he knows where he called from, my mind returning to the weekend and the complete mess I’ve made of things.
“Ma’am?”
My frown retracts as I move on to the things I can control as I do a quick mental scan of how the place looks. No knickers left on the floor