“You seem really happy about it.”
“I am. It’s going to be a big change of pace for me, spending lazy days with a sweet kid, but I think it’s going to be refreshing, and I’ll still be at the diner a lot. I’d never want to give that up, but it’s going to be like a vacation.”
“Only you would consider taking on a second job to be a vacation, Rach,” Laura said. “Here, come in the kitchen.”
“What’s up?”
“I made you a plate. We had meatloaf, and I used Mom’s recipe and it’s good.”
“Oh my God, that’s so sweet. I love you!” I said, hugging her. I sat down and gobbled up the meatloaf and scalloped potatoes. “Did my baby Brenna like it?”
“She ate the potatoes. With her hands. Which is okay, I mean she’s still a baby. And she had a roll and some green beans.”
“That kid loves her greens,” I said.
“She sure does. She gets it from her dad. Speaking of dads, how are you going to handle the Max thing?”
“I don’t plan on handling Max at all.”
“Exactly. Don’t mix business and pleasure,” she said, smirking.
“You married your boss. After he knocked you up.”
“What? And I’m your role model here? No. Do as I say not as I do, right?” she laughed. “And if doing Max is fun, go for it. Just don’t let him break your heart.”
“Did I ever let anyone do that?”
“No. Because your heart is in your work and with your friends, but, honey, you deserve to have it all, everything you want. Whether that’s a man or a kid or a chain of restaurants or all of the above,” Laura said.
I took my plate to the sink and hugged her again. “You’re the best.”
“Congratulations, go-getter,” she said, squeezing me tight.
10
Max
Sadie sprinkled cheese over the salad while I took the roast from the oven to let it rest. Sadie set the table and almost remembered which side the forks went on. I didn’t correct her, just watched her look quizzically at the way she’d put the napkin and spoon and fork all on one side. I went in and added the knives to my place and Rachel’s while Sadie chattered happily.
“I want Rachel to see my room, and I want to show her my laffydill I made.”
“Daffodil,” I corrected with a small smile, glancing at the big yellow construction paper flower she’d brought home from school the day before, which hung on the fridge now.
“You remember why Rachel’s coming right?” I asked.
“She’s gonna be my sitter ‘cause Miss Denise is going away,” she recited dutifully.
I wasn’t sure she understood that Denise really wasn’t coming back, but we’d talked about it for a few days. She was working on making a card for her, and we planned to go say goodbye before the lady left town. I owed her a debt of gratitude for the years of nurturing she’d given my daughter, and I fought the germ of resentment I felt about her leaving Sadie. Even though I knew Denise had a life outside her babysitting job and it was unreasonable to think her first and only loyalty was to my daughter, I hated the fact that another woman was leaving Sadie.
“Rachel is fun. She really likes me. I bet she will make pies. I want pies for breakfast like a pancake pie or a Lucky Charms pie or—”
“Not everything goes in pie,” I chuckled.
I answered the doorbell, and Rachel was standing there in tight jeans, a t-shirt and a cardigan sweater. Her curves were mouth-watering, and the fact that she was holding a foil pan in front of her didn’t even distract me from raking my eyes up her body. I halted my gaze when it reached her mouth, full and sensual, glossed with pink. I cleared my throat, so obvious.
“Glad you could make it,” I said, opening the door wide so she could enter.
She looked around the cabin and grinned. “This is so cute,” she said, and slipped off her sneakers as she walked in.
“You can wear your shoes inside,” I said, although I didn’t really mean it. I never let Sadie come in with shoes on, and I didn’t do it myself. She nudged her pink lace-ups side by side next to the door. Next to mine. I looked at them for a second, how different, smaller, bright and cheerful, totally foreign.
“Rachel!” Sadie squealed. Rachel went down into a squat and held out the pan for my daughter to see.
“I brought you a cherry cheesecake, Sadie Lady,” she said.
“I want it now! Want Cheesecake, Want Cheesecake!” she said in robot voice.
“Supper-First-Supper-First,” Rachel answered her in an imitation of the robot voice. She got to her feet and carried the pan to the refrigerator and slid it inside on a shelf. Closing the door, she surveyed the cluster of messy artwork taped there.