I spot Penny as soon as Curt’s gray Volvo loops around the lot. Her window is down and she’s waving at us from the backseat, sporting a jean jacket, her black bangs skimming the top of the mini Wayfarers she was wearing in Jack’s Instagram photo. She reminds me of me at her age, only with cuter clothes and better parents.
“Hi, Daddy!” she yells.
A reporter from theWashington Business Journalwants to interview Curt for some story about the supply chain, so now Jack is on duty to take Penny to a play date at the park that starts in ten minutes. Curt is dropping her here to save time.
“Hi, sweetie! How’s your morning going?” Jack asks while he unbuckles Penny’s car seat. “Daddy gets to take you to the park to play with Violet now. Isn’t that fun?”
I wave to Curt through the rolled-down passenger window. His head is shaved clean—he must’ve given up on his thinning hair. The thick glasses are the same.
“Hey, I’m Margo.”
“Glad to know you, Margo.” He smiles, but there’s a softness missing from his eyes. “I’m Curt.”
“Sorry, so rude of me!” says Jack, now with Penny next to himon the sidewalk. “Curt, this is Margo, and guess what? She and her husband are thinking about adoption!”
“Oh my, that’s wonderful,” says Curt. “Jack’s the right man to know, then.”
“Yes, he’s been so helpful,” I say, as I crouch down. “Andyoumust be the famous Penny.”
The little girl grins and shakes my hand—precocious. “You’re Daddy’s friend?”
“Yes, honey, Margo is my friend from yoga class,” Jack interjects.
“I have a friend at school called Margo,” Penny tells me. I feel her studying my face. “But you’re prettier than her.”
Jack exchanges a look with Curt.
“Wow, Penny, thank you. I think you’re really pretty, too. But even more important, I can tell you’re super smart, aren’t you? And I hear you’re amazing at gymnastics.”
Penny glows. I catch another glance between her dads. Pretty sure I’m nailing this.
“Can you come to the park with us?” she asks me.
Bull’s-eye.
“Oh, honey, I’m sure Margo has other things she needs to do today,” Jack says.
“That’s okay, I could come for a bit,” I say quickly. “It’s not far from here, right?”
“Really?” Jack looks at me. “You’re sure you wouldn’t mind?”
“Not at all. Sounds like fun.”
Penny takes my hand, the press of her miniature palm doubling my resolve—No house, no baby.I know I’m not supposed to care about gender, or even acknowledge it as anything more than a social construct, but I really would prefer a girl.
“Excellent!” Curt says from the car. “Have a great time, you three. Terrific to meet you, Margo.” He blows Penny a kiss and drives away.
I follow behind the Audi in my ancient Prius, to GrovemontPark, where it appears to be rush hour. The lot is a jumble of parents pushing strollers and trying to keep a grip on little wrists. Jack and Penny wait for me by the sign at the entrance. She takes my hand again and leads me to the playground.
This place is like Disneyland compared to the parks I’ve seen in the city. A sprawling, bright-blue climbing thing that looks like a dragon curls through one side. At the other end, a slide spirals down from an elaborate, Craftsman-style treehouse that, in the right neighborhood, could probably fetch an offer or two. Penny spies her friend on the swings and jets over, pulling me with her.
“Violet! This is Margo!” she yells.
The girl jumps off her swing and runs up to us. She’s a few inches taller than Penny.
“Nice to meet you,” I tell Violet, as a woman with the same mousy hair as the little girl scurries over.
“Hi there, I’m Violet’s mom!” she says loudly, each syllable practically dripping. She doesn’t offer her actual name, or a handshake. “How exciting! Did Jack and Curt finally find a new nanny?”
