“Of course.”
“Do you have any questions about the terms?”
June scanned the page again. It was thorough—almost impersonal in its thoroughness, like a contract for a business arrangement rather than the care of a child. But maybe that was how these things were usually done; after all, it was a job contract.
“This all seems very clear,” June said. “I just have one question, about Lila.”
Senator Brandt’s expression flickered, something unguarded passing through her eyes before she smoothed it away. “Yes?”
“What do you want this summer to look like for her? Not the logistics—the feeling of it. What do you want her to remember?”
The question seemed to catch Senator Brandt off guard. She was silent for a long moment, her fingers still resting on the edge of the countertop.
“I want her to have fun,” she said finally, and her voice was softer than before. “I want her to be a child, not a—” She stopped, shook her head. “I want her to have a good summer. That’s all.”
Before June could respond, a flicker of movement caught her eye. A small figure in the doorway, half-hidden behind the frame, watching them with wide grey-blue eyes.
“Lila.” Senator Brandt’s voice softened in a way June hadn’t expected. “Come say hello.”
The girl edged into the kitchen slowly, and June felt her heart squeeze at the sight of her. Lila was small and serious, with the same dark hair as her mother pulled back in a braid and the same grey-blue eyes, though on her they looked too watchful. She wore a sundress with tiny strawberries on it, and her hands were clasped in front of her like she was waiting to be told what to do.
June slid off the stool and crouched down, bringing herself to Lila’s eye level.
“Hi, Lila. I’m June. It’s really nice to meet you.”
“Hi.” Barely a whisper.
“Your mom tells me you like to read. What’s your favorite thing to read about?”
Lila glanced up at her mother, checking something, then back at June. “Otters.”
“Otters are amazing. Did you know they hold hands while they sleep? So they don’t drift away from each other.”
Lila nodded. “I know. I read about it. Mom didn’t know, but I told her.”
June smiled. “If I get this job, I’ll bring you a book about wild animals that I’m pretty sure has pictures of different kinds of otters. Would you like that?”
A long pause. Lila’s gaze dropped to the floor, then rose again, studying June with that same unsettling intensity. “Okay,” she said quietly.
June smiled.
She stayed another thirty minutes, answering questions about her experience and her approach to childcare. Senator Brandt was thorough and professional, but June caught her watching Lila while they talked—watching the way Lila lingered in the doorway, listening, the way she’d gradually moved closer to where June was sitting.
By the time June stood to leave, she’d been offered the position. Start date Wednesday at eleven.
“I apologize for the short notice,” Senator Brandt said. “Time got away from me.”
She didn’t seem like the type time—or anything else—got away from, but June shrugged. “It works for me.”
Senator Brandt walked her to the door, their footsteps echoing in the quiet hallway. At the threshold, June turned back.
“Thank you for the opportunity, Senator Brandt. I’ll see you Wednesday.”
“At eleven. That will give you time to settle in before we pick Lila up from school.”
June nodded, and smiled—warm and easy, the kind that came without calculation. “I’ll be here.”
She stepped out onto the porch, resisting the urge to look back as she walked to her car. She could feel Senator Brandt’s gaze on her, steady and assessing, all the way down the front path. Only when she reached the Civic did she allow herself a glance over her shoulder.
