Sophia squinted at me. “It’s charging, silly.” She took another bite of pancake.
Charging. Good. And where might it be charging? I jumped up and scanned the kitchen. Phone, phone. I knew it wasn’t in the bedroom. I’d already looked. I found it in a small office/organizational area to one side of the kitchen counter, plugged in and charging as Sophia had said. I glanced at the girls, who were still eating their pancakes. They were arguing about which was actually real—unicorns or ponies. Sophia was trying to convince Freya that ponies existed but unicorns were made up. Freya seemed unconvinced.
I unplugged the phone and unlocked it with facial recognition. There were two new text messages. I couldn’t resist opening them, curious to see if they were from anyone I knew. The first was from Eve.
Dotty had her kid, twins! I’m a goat grandma again! Xo
My heart leaped at her name. We were still friends! She still had goats. At least something had stayed the same. I glanced at the second. It was from Daphne.
Hey Lolls! Yoga center is amazing and Ko Pha-ngan is AWESOME! Even better than Costa Rica. I can see the ocean from my hut. Also I’m totally not as flexible as the other instructors but I’m getting there. Haha. I think this was a good move. Hug the girls for me. D
I stared at the message, vacillating between happiness and bewilderment. Happiness that Daphne and I were obviously on great terms. Bewilderment because where in the world was Ko Pha-ngan? I typed it quickly into Google. Up popped an advertisement for a yoga training course on a remote island in Thailand. Ah, that made sense. I stared at the photo of people in various physics-defying yoga poses in a picturesque bamboo hut on the beach. I guess any way I sliced it, Daphne was going to pursue yoga training. I texted back a heart emoji and couldn’t resist adding a big-sisterly:
Be careful. Love you lots!
A calendar notification popped up on my screen. Sophia had kindergarten drop-off at eight fifteen. Freya had ballet at nine. A quick glance at the clock confirmed it was almost eight. We needed to get going. But where was I even taking them?
For a moment I considered playing hooky for the day, just letting them skip everything, but then Sophia tugged on the skirt of my sundress, her eyes worried. “Mommy, come on. I need my lunch, and we have to go. We’re going to be late for school.”
“Okay, um, just let me think.” I looked at Sophia, realizing she was still wearing a nightgown emblazoned with some cartoon princesses I didn’t recognize. Shoot, I needed to get them dressed. Freya. Where was Freya? In the time it took me to blink, Freya had stripped off her panties and was just disappearing up the carpeted stairs with a flash of little pink naked bottom.
“Freya? Come back here!” I raced after her. A high-pitched giggle was her only response followed by the sound of a slamming door.
I took the stairs two at a time and opened one of the closed doors on the second level. A home office of some sort, slightly messy. I heard hysterical giggling coming from behind the second door. Bingo. A bedroom done up in adorable girly style—bunk beds with cute forest animal duvets, a muslin teepee in the corner spilling stuffed animals from the doorway. Children’s books splayed across the floor. A wooden dollhouse with white gingerbread lattice. And a very naked, sticky three-year-old running around the room shrieking. Sophia followed me in, and I barricaded the door and managed to corral both girls into the spacious walk-in closet. “Time to get dressed,” I panted. I really needed to start doing more cardio.
29
Ten minutes ofchild wrangling later, the girls were dressed, sort of. Sophia was in a normal-looking outfit she’d chosen herself—a short-sleeved tunic and capris underneath. I’d finally given up and let Freya walk out of the closet wearing the outfit of her choice—fairy wings, glittery pink cowboy boots, and a full leotard with a raincoat even though it already looked hot outside with not a cloud in the sky. No one ever accused preschoolers of being rational. I herded them down the stairs and into the kitchen.
“Are we going to be late?” Sophia asked worriedly. I checked my phone, realizing I had no idea what school she attended or where it was.
“Do you know the name of your school?” I asked hopefully. She stared at me as though I’d grown two heads.
“Tampa Bay Montessori.” She rolled her eyes. “Come on, Mommy.”
“You got it!” I smiled enthusiastically as though I’d only been quizzing her knowledge. I wondered what other things I could glean from her. She could prove useful.
A moment later Rory rushed into the kitchen, glancing distractedly at his watch.
“Shoot, I’m running late again.” He’d never been particularly timely, as I recalled. He seemed to run about five to ten minutes late no matter the occasion, ever the optimist about how much he could fit into his minutes and hours.
Freya giggled and Sophia shot him a censoring look. “Daddy, you have to put a quarter in the bad words jar. We don’t say ‘shoot’ either.”
Rory caught my eye over the girls’ heads and grimaced jokingly. “Mommy can pay my fine,” he said. “I’ll pay her back later.” He winked at me and chucked Sophia under the chin. She looked doubtful. He leaned down and hugged the girls, dropping a quick peck on my cheek as he hurried out the door. He was clean-shaven, in a pale gray polo shirt, and he left the barest hint of bergamot cologne wafting behind him as he left. I watched him go, the familiar set of his shoulders, that russet hair curling damply at the nape of his neck, and my heart broke just a little. I wanted more time with him. I wanted more of him.
“Mommy, we have to pack my lunch.” Sophia tugged on my hand.
“Lunch. Right.” I located Sophia’s lunch bag, then tried to think what to fill it with. I stared at the shelves of the refrigerator, feeling the seconds tick away, then grabbed a Go-Gurt, a cheese stick, a handful of baby carrots, and an apple and shoved them in the lunch bag. Slapping peanut butter on a slice of bread, I was about to tuck that into a sandwich bag when Sophia stopped me.
“Mommy, we can’thavepeanut butter at school, remember? Because some kids are allergicked.”
“Ah, okay, right. Yes.” I stared at the offending sandwich in my hand, put it in the plastic bag, then shoved it in the fridge and stuck a little prepackaged container of hummus with crackers into the bag instead. Presumably, hummus was still allowed in schools. It had been a long time since my school days, and Daphne had always gotten hot lunches at school.
We were officially late by the time lunch was packed, but Freya hadvanished. I found her in the downstairs half bath, pumping hand soap into the toilet and making bubbles with the plunger. Scooping a protesting Freya up around the middle, I herded Sophia through the kitchen and out the garage to the Lexus SUV. A few frantic minutes of fumbling with the buckles of unfamiliar car seats ensued. Had they always been so complicated? They felt secure enough to launch an astronaut into space. Sophia helpfully gave me instructions while Freya squirmed and giggled.
Sweaty and exasperated, I finally climbed in the driver’s seat, cranked the air-conditioning, then opened my GPS and looked through favorites. Ah, there it was. Six minutes away. I turned on the car and drove as slowly and carefully as an octogenarian through a completely unfamiliar neighborhood as upbeat tunes fromThe Little Mermaidblasted from the sound system. When I glanced in the rearview mirror both girls were watching me silently.
“Under the sea,” Sebastian sang. I smiled brightly at them, trying to pretend everything was under control. Freya was sucking on Bunny’s paw, and Sophia looked on the verge of tears.
