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Maybe it would be just what I needed to put everything behind me.
Rose woke up at seven o'clock. I was going to have trouble putting her to sleep later, since she’d had such a healthy nap. To be honest, I still hadn't mastered the art of them. I was trying my best to follow the instructions Travis and Bonnie had left me, but the naps still eluded me. I always messed up and let her sleep too long.
"Come on, baby girl. I've got a delicious puree for you. Oh yeah, Aunt Reese is going to spoil you all weekend long. And we’re going to spend some quality girl time with your cousin as well."
I was taking Paisley, my cousin Tate’s daughter, out and about tomorrow. Initially, I'd offered to take her baby sister as well, but I knew my limits. I hadn't yet mastered the art of juggling two toddlers at the same time, but I was a fast learner.
My mind circled back to Malcolm and Francesca. Maybe I could bail.
But deep in my heart, I knew I couldn’t. The charity event itself was planned as a few separate activities overall, and I’d even helped organize one of them. I couldn’t let them down.
Besides, I was no chicken.
***
Dom
"Mr. Waldorf, I have everything covered," Dora, my father's caregiver, said.
"Let me know if there's an issue with his medication or anything else," I replied.
"I will, but so far, we're good. He’s in the living room. The chessboard is already prepared."
These days, Dad could barely get around without help, but his mind was still as sharp as ever.
Dad still lived in the same house I grew up in—a historic home near Irving Park. It was like walking back in time. He'd kept everything as it was when Mom was here. Even the outside was painted the same blueish color with white windowsills and trim.
I’d tried to talk him into moving into a condo or a bungalow—something without stairs—but he insisted that he belonged here, so I didn’t argue. I went right into the living room.
"Looking sharp, son."
"Thanks, Dad."
"Where are you going?"
"Charity event."
"Always those charities, eh?" Dad said. The board was right in front of him. "Come on. Give me your best."
He turned the chess clock the second my ass hit the chair. That was Dad to a tee; he didn't like to waste his time.
"Now, don't you dare let me win."
"Never," I said.
He looked at me suspiciously. I might have done so over the past few months, especially if he was having a hard day.
"How's the company?" he asked.
Waldorf Fashion was my life’s work. We were a force to be reckoned with in the industry.
"The last quarter of the year is always a busy time."
"Don’t forget to take a break now and again."
"I won’t."
Dad usually didn’t give advice, but since my divorce, he'd slipped one or two words of wisdom in here and there.
