“Honey, who is that at the door?” My sister Nicolette calls from the living room.
I hide my laugh with my hand, glancing down, and Melissa’s eyes dart over my shoulder, her face falling.
“Hi! I’m Nicolette Hawthorne,” she says, pushing me out of the way. “You must be one of the new neighbors?”
That’s my sister. Sharp as a tack and doesn’t miss a beat.
Melissa’s words must be caught in her throat, and she visually assesses Nicolette the way insecure, lonely women tend to do.
“I’m so sorry,” Melissa manages to say a moment later, extending her free hand. “I didn’t know …”
I can only hope Melissa’s too in shock to notice our uncanny resemblance, right down to the dimples in our chins.
“Well, I should be on my way.” Melissa hands over the hot dish and Nicolette thanks her before closing the door.
“Completely unnecessary,” I say.
“Bullshit, Ford. That girl was a stage five clinger situation waiting to happen. You should be thanking me.”
“Should I also thank you when she discovers I’m your brother and starts spreading rumors around the neighborhood?”
“She’s not going to know. Women like that aren’t bright enough to put those kinds of things together.” Nicolette takes the casserole to the kitchen, where my five-year-old nephew, Arlo, is hard at work on a page in his Transformers coloring book. “Anyway.”
Nicolette ruffles Arlo’s curly blond hair before leaning to kiss his forehead.
“You going to miss me, buddy?” she asks.
“Yep.” He doesn’t look up.
“I’m going to miss you,” she says.
“I know.” He reaches for a blue crayon, inspecting the tip to ensure it’s sharp enough.
We laugh.
“He’ll be fine,” I say. “It’s just a week. We’ve got fun stuff planned.”
“Like what?” she asks.
“Guy stuff. Super secret guys stuff that only guys can do,” I say, smirking at my nephew, whose face is lit like Christmas.
“Thanks for doing this for me,” she says, ruffling his silky curls again. “You’re the only person I trust with my baby.”
Nicolette hugs him one last time, tickling his ribcage until he giggles. Her annual girls’ trip begins tonight with a flight from O’Hare International to Miami, where she’ll meet up with some old friends from college. I don’t even want to think about what they’re going to do from there.
Being a single mom with zero help from Arlo’s dad, she needs this time to herself, and I’m happy to help.
“You’re cool with me getting a babysitter for a few hours a day?” I ask. “It’d only be in the morning.”
“Let me guess. Gym?” She rolls her eyes.
“And work.”
“Thought you had the summer off?” she asks.
“Prep work. Boring stuff. Just a couple hours a day.”
“Whatever,” she says. “That’s fine. I trust you.”
Nicolette grabs her suitcase from the bottom of the stairs as her cab pulls into the driveway, and I can only hope Melissa’s not standing outside watching me walk my sister to the car and send her off with a friendly wave instead of a romantic embrace.
“Be right back, bud,” I say to Arlo. “Don’t move a muscle.”
He freezes, his lips fighting a giggle.
“I want you just like that when I get back.” I point my finger at him before heading out the front door and helping Nic into her car. And just as I’m turning to get back inside, I spot Victor Abbott in his driveway, waxing his car.
He waves. I wave. At this point it would be rude to walk away, especially considering the fact that he’s my new boss.
“Victor,” I say, striding between our driveways.
“Ford,” he says.
“Have a question for you.”
“Shoot.” He stands, his hand resting on his lower back. Why he doesn’t just pay someone to wax his car is beyond me, but I suspect a man like Victor Abbott does things himself if he wants them done right.
“My nephew’s in town for a week. Looking for a babysitter. Just a few hours a day, Monday through Friday. You know anyone in the neighborhood? Looking for someone reliable and responsible.”
His face lights up, something I wasn’t sure was possible. “Matter of fact, my daughter, Bree, was just saying she wanted to get into babysitting. You want to meet her?”
That was easy.
“Sure.” I glance toward the house, waiting as Victor heads in and returns with a bobble-headed cheerleader type—of the studious variety, not the slutty—complete with a tied bow in her ponytail. Victor’s daughter looks like she walked off the set of a Taylor Swift music video, but she comes from good stock, and I’m not exactly in a position to say no.
“Bree, this is Ford,” her father says, clearing his throat. “Principal Hawthorne come August twenty-third.”
“So you’re the new principal!” Bree extends her hand, her blue eyes wide and smiling. “It’s so wonderful to meet you. You’re going to love Rosefield. We’re one of the top high schools in the state.”
“That’s what I’ve been told,” I say. She’s still holding my hand, almost refusing to let go. I give a gentle tug and sever the tie. “Very honored to lead the charge this fall.”
“Dad says you need a babysitter?” She bounces on her tennis shoe-covered toes.
I nod. “My five-year-old nephew’s in town for a week. Are you available in the mornings? Eight to eleven or so?”
“I am.” She smiles. “When would you like me to start?”
“Tomorrow?”
“See you then, Principal Hawthorne.” Bree tugs on the hem of her scoop neck top once she’s out of her father’s periphery. If she’s trying to give me a show, she’s wasting her time.
There’s nothing there.
And I don’t fuck my students.
Chapter 11
Ford
“Tell me about Grandma and Grandpa.” Arlo shoves a spoonful of Lucky Charms into his mouth.
I do the same.
“What has your mom told you about them?” I ask.
He shrugs. “Just that they were nice. And they would’ve loved me.”
“They would’ve adored you,” I say. “They would’ve been obsessed with you.”
“What does that mean? Obsessed?”
“It means they think about you all the time. They can’t stop thinking about you.” Eh, good enough. “It’s a grown-up thing.”
Arlo takes another bite. “What happened to them?”
I almost choke on my cereal. “What’d your mom say happened to them?”
“She won’t tell me.”
Sucking in a deep breath, I mull it over. “It’s kind of a long story.”
“I’m not going anywhere, Uncle Ford.” His big blue eyes blink. “I want to know. Will you tell me?”
Checking my watch, I calculate that Bree’s going to be here in about five minutes, so I’ll give him the condensed, Grimm’s fairy tale version.
“All right.” I rise, taking my dish to the sink and rinsing it out. “Once upon a time, there was a king and queen who ruled a kingdom. The kingdom was known for pioneering wind energy, which I don’t expect you to know anything about, but just know that it was a very wealthy and very successful kingdom. The king and queen had a prince and princess, and they were living happily ever after until the queen got sick. The king didn’t want to lose his beloved queen, so he hired one of the best nurses in the kingdom to take care of her day in and day out so she would never be alone and never be in pain. Months and months passed, then years. The queen was still sick, unable to get out of bed most days. The king became lonely and sad. The nurse and the king began a friendship because the king was so lonely, and when the queen eventually passed away, the king married the nurse, making her his new queen and her son a new prince.”
Arlo yawns. I think I’m losing him. I should’ve told the story in the context of Transformers using Autobots and Decepticons.