an explanation, but I feel the need to defend myself.
“QuickFix is Tom’s original business. He’s a plumber by trade. He’s out this morning, and you’re in a pickle here.” I tip my head to the sink. “But I can always call him and ask if he can come tomorrow if you don’t think I’m good enough.”
My voice roughens, and she shakes her head, dismissing a call to my brother. Her eyes shift to the kitchen table.
“I see you brought a partner with you today.”
I hate that I have to occasionally drag Katie to some of my appointments. My youngest sister, Tricia, is a teacher and had a summer teacher thing today, and my mother had to work. That left my other sister Pam, who also had to work, and Tom is out today. My brother’s good about me sometimes bringing Katie to the shop or along to odd jobs. He understands.
Of course, Katie doesn’t respond to Emily’s comment.
“I know just the thing to keep us busy while your daddy fixes my sink,” Emily says, leaning toward Katie like they are long-lost friends. I don’t get it. Why is she hitching herself to my child? In fact, I need to tell her outright to knock it off. I will as soon as I finish this job and hopefully rid myself of one Emily Post of Chicago.
Emily disappears after telling Katie she’ll be right back, and Katie doesn’t move from her seat. I always travel with a little bag of markers, paper, and coloring sheets. She’s good about sitting still when I need her to, but I hate needing to ask. I should have found a caregiver—the nanny-type—but I don’t want to put Katie under the supervision of someone I don’t know. It’s already bad enough whatever happened to her happened under her own mother’s care.
Emily returns and holds out a hand for Katie without even addressing me. Katie doesn’t blink but accepts the offered hand and follows Emily into the living room off the kitchen. They immediately disappear from sight.
So much for not kidnapping my child.
It’s strange that I trust Emily when I don’t even know her, but I get to work on the sink, checking the valves and then the connections. My initial eyeball assessment was correct. She needs a new faucet, which means she might need a new sink. I don’t think any modern fixture is going to match the angle needed to fit the ancient basin.
Suddenly, the voices coming from the porch behind me distract me. It’s actually only one voice that catches my attention. I’ve been in this house before, a long time ago, and I remember it has a weird connection between rooms. From the living room, you can walk under the staircase leading to the second floor and enter the dining room. It’s all encased in dark wood like a secret passageway or something. The dining room opens onto the screened-in porch, which can also be accessed via the kitchen. I look through the opening from the kitchen and see my daughter sitting close to Emily on a faded outdoor couch under three large windows.
Emily’s voice drifts through the room as she reads to my child, and since I don’t want her to know I can hear her, I tuck into the dining room and press myself against the wall to listen. She calls my daughter Katie bug. It’s too cute, and I can tell Katie loves it. Her voice soothes me as she reads Cinderella to my daughter. Did she just happen to have old fairy-tale books lying around this house? It’s strange how familiar I am now with these stories—and the reality that life does not match them.
“You know what I love about this tale? In the end she gets a prince and a great pair of shoes,” Emily teases, and I try to imagine what it might sound like to hear Katie giggle. Just a little titter, but there’s no sound.
“Those are beautiful shoes,” she coos to my daughter, and I recall Katie is wearing flip-flops with a daisy on the bridge by her toes. Speaking of shoes, I still have Emily’s—some strappy things in silver she could twist an ankle in. How she walked to the Tavern in those I have no idea. I’d still like to know what she was doing with Gabe, but it’s not my concern who he fucks.
The harshness of my thoughts seems like a bit much when I consider Emily as the recipient of his attention.