As I come around the side of the chair, I see her, and she nearly takes my breath away. She’s so tiny and perfect. And beautiful. But not at all what I expected. Although honestly, I don’t know what I expected. I’ve seen a couple of blurry shots of Orly in the tabloids that customers leave at the diner, but they didn’t do her justice.
She’s wrapped up in a blankie surrounded by pillows. Her hair is half naughty and half nice, like a schoolyard of ruffians squared up against the good girls. There are a few curls clustered in perfect, delicious coils, but the rest is a fuzzy, tawny halo. Her eyes are large and hazel, speckled with brown and green, and her skin is so perfectly smooth and tanned, it puts the organic eggs to shame. She lowers her head and squints at me.
“Lie? Why’s your hair lello?”
One of the pillows wriggles, and I hear a soft “yip” as Princess pops her head out from under the blankie and rushes at me.
“Pincess! No!” Orly chastises, holding up a tiny finger with a pink, sparkly fingernail.
She glares at me. “I was bushing her!”
I’m not sure I follow what she is saying till a second later when a wooden hairbrush clatters to the floor.
“Oh good,” I say. “She really needs someone to brush her.”
“Yes.” The child nods gravely at me. “Her hair’s all messy. I fix it!”
Given the state of the toddler’s hair, it’s impossible not to smile at the image.
“I hungy!” she announces, suddenly throwing off her blankets and jumping to grab my hand. “You make me breakfast?”
“Well, I …” I stand there, frozen, not sure what to say. I reach in my pocket and pat my phone, ready to pull it out and text Rafe again. But before I can get it out, I hear footsteps, and a very hungover girl with an Australian accent pokes her head in the room.
“Oh, thank God,” she says, holding her head with one hand. “I’m so sorry. You’re Lorelei, right?”
“Yes,” I answer, “and you are?”
“I’m Rainey, the ‘nanny.’” She makes air quotes with her fingers. “Actually, I’m not normally a nanny. I’m doing my post doc on child psych. Rafe told me his mom was going to be spending the day with Orly today, so I didn’t set an alarm or anything. She wasn’t in her room when I checked her bed after the back door motion sensor alarm went off on my phone. Ow.” She leans forward, steadying herself against the counter.
“Rainey! I hungy!” Orly stomps over to the nanny.
“Can I make you a cup of coffee or something?” I offer.
“Actually, I think I’m just going to grab a bottle of electrolyte water and head back to bed, if you don’t mind. I was out till closing time at this place called The Onion.”
“Ah …” I smile knowingly. “Was there a good band there last night?”
“No.” She slugs the water. “They were terrible. As were the cocktails. But I had too much of all of it. And a really great time.” She smiles sheepishly.
“Hungy?” Orly pouts. It’s impossible to be annoyed. She’s so stinkin cute. The dog barks again, as if to say, “You better feed her!” Rainey looks stricken.
“Ugh. I think Rafe is out for his run. And his mom is still asleep. Shit.” She slaps a hand over her mouth. “I mean … ship!”
“I can make her breakfast,” I offer sympathetically. “Is she allergic to anything?”
“No. No allergies,” Rainey says. She squats down and takes Orly’s hands in hers. “Orly, darling? Lorelei here is going to make you breakfast, okay?”
“That’s not Lie Lie!” says Orly.
Rainey looks confused and squints up at me.
“It’s my hair,” I shrug. “She’s not used to seeing me without the wig.”
“Right,” says Rainey, clearly satisfied with this explanation. “And thanks.”
“Come back later, and I’ll make you some coffee,” I call after her.
“Me coffee, too?” asks the child.
