“Maybe this weekend. Miss Hollis might want a break.”
“I can ask her if she wants to.”
“That you can. Goodnight, Lila.”
“Night, Mom.” Lila was asleep before Melissa reached the door.
The house was quiet. Melissa should have gone to her office, should have reviewed the briefings for tomorrow’s meetings, should have done any of the hundred things waiting for her attention.
Instead, she found herself drifting down to the living room, sinking into the couch in the darkness. The windows faced the backyard, and through them she could see the last traces of light fading from the sky.
She’s happy, Melissa thought.Lila is happy.
It should have been enough. It was what she’d wanted, what she’d hired June to help create. A summer of laughter and mess and moments like the one she’d witnessed in the kitchen.
So why did she feel so hollow?
Perhaps because she should be the one to do that for Lila, not a stranger, however warm and welcoming.
“Senator Brandt?”
Melissa startled. June stood in the doorway, silhouetted against the hall light.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to intrude. I was just getting some water and saw you sitting in the dark.” A pause. “Would you like anything?”
“You’re the nanny, not my servant,” Melissa said.
“Maybe it’s just a way of being nice,” June said with a soft laugh. “You know, ask what a fellow human needs?”
“Oh.”
“Are you okay?”
No, Melissa thought.I’m not sure I am.
“Just thinking,” she said.
June hesitated, then crossed to the couch and sat at the other end—not too close, but close enough that Melissa could see her face in the dim light. She’d changed into pajamas, cotton pants and an oversized t-shirt, and her hair was loose around her shoulders for the first time since she’d arrived. It was longer than Melissa had realized, falling past her collarbone in soft waves.
“Lila had a great day,” June said. “She was so excited to show you the pasta. She talked about it all afternoon.”
“She seemed more excited about the pasta itself.”
“That’s not true. She kept asking what time you’d be home. She wanted you to see what she made.”
Melissa stared at the dark windows, at the reflection of the two of them sitting on opposite ends of the couch. “She’s happy. With you, I mean. Happier than I’ve seen her in… a long time.”
“She’s happy because someone’s paying attention to her. Making time for her.” June’s voice was gentle. “She’d be just as happy if it were you rolling pasta with her.”
“I don’t know how to make pasta.”
“I could teach you.”
Melissa almost smiled. “I’m not sure I have time to learn.”
“You have time for the things you make time for.” Surprisingly, the words weren’t accusatory. “Kids don’t need fancy activities or perfect meals. Lila just needs presence. Someone who shows up.”
Melissa thought about all the events she’d missed, all the dinners she’d eaten alone in her office, all the times she’d chosen work over her daughter because work felt manageable in a way that parenting never had.
