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“Dean, old boy, how are things?”
“Everything is just fine, Nigel,” I lied, putting on my best-received pronunciation. I had learned a thing or two over the past eleven years on Blighty.
“Everything is on schedule, then?”
“A bit ahead, actually.”
“Wonderful! You really have exceeded all expectations.”
“You flatter me, your lordship.”
“Keep up the good work!”
“Yes, sir!”
Lord Nigel ended the call, and I sat back, heaving a sigh of relief. My relaxation was to be short-lived, however, as there came a blood-curdling scream from somewhere in the house. It sounded like a child in pain.
Nearly tripping over myself in a failed attempt to move quickly, I ran downstairs to see what happened. My mind racing through the gruesome possibilities.
“Jessica?”
“Hi, Uncle Dean,” she said, happy as can be.
“W-what, there was a scream.”
“We had to do something to get you out of your office. Desperate times,” Becky said with a shrug.
“You want ice cream, Uncle Dean?”
“Sure, I'd love some ice cream,” I said, my gaze trained on Becky.
We went into the kitchen and got out three bowls and three spoons. Regular sized ones for me and kiddie-sized plastic ones for Jessica.
“What flavor do you like?” I asked, feeling stupid for not knowing.
“Chocolate!”
“That was your mom's favorite too,” I said, getting out the tub of chocolate.
It had started early with Simone. Before she was even as old as Jessica, she would demand chocolate ice cream after every meal, not understanding that dessert was something that usually only happened after dinner. At least that was what she told me. I wasn't around then.
My sister and I were laying in a freshly raked pile of leaves on a crisp autumn day when I asked, for no particular reason, about her chocolate ice cream habit. She was nothing if not consistent.
It had been a while since I thought about how it used to be.
“Are you okay?” Jessica asked, tugging on my pant leg.
“Yeah, I'm fine,” I lied.
Serving up three bowls of ice cream, chocolate for Jessica, raspberry swirl for me, and orange sherbet for Becky, we sat at the kitchen table and ate in silence.
“I'm glad you thought of this, Jess,” I said, scraping the last remnants of the ice cream from my bowl. I had honestly forgotten how good it could taste.
My little niece beamed at me. Something simple and sweet. Something that would make most people feel good. It would have made me feel good, if she didn't look so damn much like her mother.
“Excuse me, I—”
I ran out of words. Anything else I said would have come out as a sob. I had to leave before things could go pear shaped, getting up so fast my chair fell over.
I didn't go down until that night. I was afraid I might have upset Jessica and couldn't face that. Not right then.
Becky was coming out of Jessica's room as I arrived. We stood silently for a moment, neither of us sure what to say.
I was pretty sure there were a few things that Becky would have liked to say. Most of them requiring only four-letters each, but she restrained herself in case Jessica heard.
“Thanks,” I said lamely. It didn't really cover what she was doing for Jess and me. I just couldn't think of anything else to say.
“You're welcome.”
Taking a breath, I somehow found the courage to do what I knew had to be done. No matter how much it might hurt my pride. I had damaged the nanny’s a whole lot more and had to make amends. My Catholic upbringing hadn't gone entirely to waste apparently.
Not that it was about me. I needed Becky to stay around, for Jessica if nothing else. I had heard what she had said in the playroom and felt horrible for not having thought of it.
“Hey, I'm really sorry about the sandwich thing and the way I left the ice cream party. It really wasn't Jess, or you.”
“You're forgiven. This time. Just don't let it happen again,” Becky said, more kindly than I would have expected.
“I won't,” I said, meaning it.
“Okay, good, because I don't deserve it, and neither does Jess. She's just a kid and she really needs her uncle right now. Not some surly guy who spends all day in his office.”
“I know. I just…I'm a bit mixed up right now. Not just with work but — other things. I really don't mean to be…well, to be the way I am. I know that's not an excuse. Do you think we could try lunch again tomorrow?”
“Only if we eat in that fancy-ass dining room,” she said with a smile.
“Deal.”
I had never had a lunch date that I looked forward to more.Chapter Six - BeckyI didn't have much time. I had just gotten Jessica down for her nap, having already fed her lunch. I wanted to dress up for lunch with Dean but didn't have much that seemed really fancy.
