“Lila spent two hours coloring by herself in a corner while you worked the room. That’s not what kids are supposed to do. They’re supposed to run around. Giggle and play.”
“She’s well behaved.”
“She’s shrinking.”
Melissa opened her mouth to argue, then closed it. There was no point in defending herself to Rachel, who had known her for over ten years. She’d been there through the worst of the divorce, had held her together through depositions and press leaks and the night Michael’s affair became front-page news. Rachel had earned the right to be blunt, even when—perhaps especially when—it came to Melissa’s lacking parental skills.
“I’m interviewing nannies next week,” Melissa said instead.
“Good. Look for someone who can actually engage with her, not just supervise.” Rachel’s expression shifted into something gentler. “She’s a great kid, Mel. She’s just… careful. Like someone else I know.”
“Careful isn’t bad.”
“It’s not, but it isn’t supposed to be the first word that comes to mind about a seven-year-old.”
They stood in the driveway, the morning sun warm on their backs, the sounds of their little section of Redwood Hollow humming around them—a lawnmower somewhere down the block, birdsong from the old oak in the front yard, the distant rumble of a delivery truck. Inside, Melissa could hear Lila’s footsteps, light and measured, moving through the house.
They hadn’t lived here long, she and Lila, but it worked.
“I don’t know how to fix it,” she said quietly. “I don’t know how to make her… lighter.”
“You don’t have to fix everything yourself.” Rachel finished her coffee. “Find someone good. Someone with a pulse and a personality, who’ll actually make the house feel like something other than a campaign headquarters.”
“That’s specific.”
“I’ve been in there,” Rachel said with a nod at the house.
“We just moved in a few months ago. I haven’t had time to—”
“Yeah, I know. Just… find someone warm.” Rachel’s phone buzzed, and after a quick check, she pulled her keys from herpocket, jingling them. “I’ve got to get back—I’m supposedly off shift, but there’s a staff meeting at noon. Call me later? I want to hear about the nanny candidates.”
“So you can veto them?”
“So I can make sure you don’t hire someone based purely on their resume formatting.” Rachel grinned, opening her car door. “Love you. Now go grab some good food and hang with your kid.”
Melissa watched her pull away, the familiar ache settling back into place behind her ribs. Rachel made it look so easy—the warmth, the humor, the casual affection that Melissa could never quite manage even with the people she loved most.
Michael had called her cold. Icy.
Back inside, Lila was sitting at the kitchen island with a glass of water.
“Are you hungry?” Melissa asked.
Lila shook her head.
Melissa didn’t know what to ask next. Should it be this hard to talk to your own child?
The house was quiet as Melissa moved through it, wiping down the counter that barely needed it, checking her phone again for the endless scroll of emails and reminders. Lila sat with her hands folded, still and watchful.
Find someone good,Rachel had said.
Butgoodwasn’t just about qualifications and background checks and scheduling flexibility. Good was something Melissa didn’t know how to measure, didn’t trust herself to recognize. She’d thought Michael was good, once. She’d thought a lot of things.
“Mom?” Lila’s voice was small in the clean, silent kitchen. “Am I going to have a babysitter this summer?”
“We’re going to find someone to help out, yes. Someone who can do fun things with you while I’m working.”
“Oh.” Lila traced a finger along the marble countertop. “Will they stay?”
