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“Is that your car?” Her breathless question comes with wide eyes as her small finger points.
“Yes, it is. Do you like it?”
Nodding enthusiastically, she skips over to take a closer look. “It’s like Luigi fromCars.”
I laugh. Having seen the movie years ago, I recall the little blue Fiat with his Italian accented sass. “Itislike Luigi. Is he your favorite?”
Another enthusiastic nod. “He’s funny. So is his friend Guido.”
That movie is nearly two decades old, so someone made an effort to show it to her. As a woman raised with very few racecars and girl power in my life, I appreciate it. And given the conversation an hour ago with Jackson about a nanny, I wonder if he’s her dad.
Casting another glance around, I figure I’ll see him or some other parent finally catching up to the little sprite, but other than birds, we’re alone.
“Do you need help finding your parents?”
Her head tips back as she laughs like I’ve just said the most ridiculous thing. She twirls, and her shirt flares around her hips, catching the light like a blooming flower. “Could you reallydothat?” She makes it sound like I’d be revealing secrets behind a magic act. Producing the assistant who disappeared inside a box.
“Maybe. I could try.”
She shakes her head, which sends her messy blond locks scattering into her eyes. “People already tried.”
“What people?”
“My dad, mostly. He tried really hard. But if a person doesn’t want to be found, it’s pretty hard to find her.” She taps a finger against her lips like she understands the profundity of her words. I’m taken aback by her adult-level insight, and I wonder again if Jackson is her dad. Might explain a few things about his stoic demeanor if people have disappointed him in the past. It makes me want to cut him some slack, even though he tried to burst my wine-country bubble earlier.
“Is Jackson your dad?”
Nodding, she treats me to an adorable jack-o-lantern smile. She has gaps between all four of her front teeth, like each one is free to roam wild until more crowd them into submission. “Are you and my dad friends?”
“I met him earlier. Bet he’s an awesome dad, isn’t he?”
She nods soberly. “Except when he bosses me, which is most of the time.”
“That’s what dads are supposed to do,” I tell her. “My dad did a lot of bossing.” It’s not a lie. I just don’t tell her that I haven’t seen my dad in nine years when both of my parents were killed in a car accident. It’s the last thing a girl with only one parent wants to hear.
“You’re funny.” The smile returns.
“No, I’m Ruby. Funny is my next-door neighbor.” This cracks her up, and I revel in the unbridled joy of being a kid, hearing a dumb joke, and laughing with abandon. Her head drops back as she giggles.
“I’m Fiona. Shh, don’t tell my dad I just told a stranger my name.”
“Normally, you shouldn’t do that. It’s super dangerous. And you should never keep secrets from your dad. But…we’ll keep just this one between us. How does that sound?”
She nods her head, her sleep-rumpled strands of hair falling into her eyes.
Just then, a fat June bug buzzes through the air near Fiona’s head. Swinging her head back, she squeals and runs to hide behind me.
I watch the flying beetle zoom its clumsy way around my own head, bobbing and weaving and buzzing as it goes. The garden lights have dimmed now that the sun is out, so there’s nothing obvious to attract the bug. I swat at it, but it doesn’t take the hint.
“I don’t like it…” she says behind me. I look and find her covering her eyes with her hands and peeking through her fingers.
Watching the round bug’s path, I try to follow it with my outstretched hands, but it’s moving in the erratic way those beetles do. “Hang on, let me get it.”
Swooping after it, I manage to capture the bug in my hands. I feel it rattling around until it finally gives in and sits in my covered palm. “It’s okay, you can look.”
Cautiously removing one hand at a time, Fiona moves out from behind me, checking to ensure that the coast is really clear. I show her my clasped hands. “You’re holding it?” The awe in her round eyes tells me I can get her over the fear of big bugs if I direct her the right way.
“Right in here.” I hold my hands to my chest like I’m guarding a secret. Fiona leans closer, inspecting my hands for gaps where the bug might fly out.
