Her phone buzzed with a text from her mom as they pulled into the driveway.
Dinner tonight? Dad’s grilling. Tyler says he’ll be there if there’s potato salad.
June smiled despite herself.
Can’t. Working.
You work every day. It’s summer. Take a break.
That’s not really how live-in jobs work, Mom.
A pause, then:
We miss you. It feels like you moved across the country instead of twenty minutes away.
The guilt settled in June’s chest like a stone. She’d been so wrapped up in this house, in Lila, in Melissa, that she’d barely thought about her own family. A few texts here and there, aquick phone call on her mom’s birthday the week before, but nothing substantial. Nothing real.
I miss you too. Maybe next week?
That would be nice. Dad wants to know if the senator is treating you okay.
She’s treating me fine. It’s a good job.
I’m sure it is, but I have to agree with your dad. You seem to work an awful lot.
I like it. And Lila’s a wonderful kid. It doesn’t really feel like work.
Okay then. Love you.
Love you too, Mom.
Senator Brandt came home early.
June heard the front door open just after five, hours before the usual time, and looked up from the vegetables she was chopping to find the senator standing in the kitchen doorway. She was still in her work clothes—a grey blazer over a white blouse—but something about her seemed different. Softer, maybe.
“You’re home,” June said, then immediately felt stupid for stating the obvious.
“I am.” The Senator set her bag on a chair. “I thought… it’s Saturday. I should be here.”
“Lila will be thrilled. She’s upstairs working on a secret project. I think it involves the ribbon she bought today.”
“Ribbon?”
“For a Fourth of July wreath. She’s very invested.”
Senator Brandt—Melissa, June reminded herself—smiled, warm and open, and something fluttered in June’s chest.
Stop it.
“Can I help with dinner?” Melissa asked.
“You want to help?”
“I’m not a cook like you, but I can chop things.” She went to wash her hands.
June handed her a cutting board and a pile of bell peppers, and they worked side by side in a silence that felt surprisingly comfortable. The senator’s knife skills were basic but competent.
“Did you know that this kitchen reminds me of my grandmother’s?” June asked after a while.
