Sammy lets out a low groan as if he's rolling his eyes and lays his head back on her thigh. Tess grins down at him, and I catch myself watching her like I did then—remembering. Replaying the memory of running into her. The relief I felt when my runaway dog was finally still. The sweet smell lingering in the air and how I wasn't sure if it was her or the ice cream that—
"So, back to your question."
I blink, retraining my focus.
"I would say you should hire me because I have a ton of experience and my references are solid, but honestly, that's all bullshit. Any wacko can hold a job if the family is desperate enough or just as crazy." My neck snaps back as she shakes her head. "I'm serious. Don't hire me—or anyone else for that matter—based on what degree I have written on my resume. Hire me because I love it." She huffs out a laugh and looks toward the ceiling. "And because I've done this my whole life, even before getting paid for it."
Her eyes fall back down to mine, and she must see in my expression that I don't understand.
"I'm the oldest of five kids," she explains.
I whistle before I can stop myself. "Sorry," I chuckle awkwardly. "It's just… shit, I thought one was hard."
She laughs, and for a second, I forget why I was grouchy before. "Well, our parents are great—they were always around and are still together. But somehow that's just how it goes, I think. It's like any other group—with a team or school project. Someone takes the lead, and for us, that was me. I've always been the one my siblings turn to."
The thought lightens a weight in my chest without offering any explanation. "Maybe they're the better references then."
She giggles again, and I find myself keeping an unofficial score of how many times I can pull that sound from her lips before shaking the thought. "Yeah, maybe," she quips. "Just not Jo. She's the middle one, and that girl has nothing nice to say."
I stop myself from joking back—from responding with,Oh, then I'm definitely calling her.Too easily she's pulling me from the slump I've fallen into, and rather than allowing her to, I hold on to reality with everything I have.
"So, tell me about your daughter."
I can't help but smile genuinely now, my body relaxing as I think about how to describe my not-so-little girl. "Ruthie's great. She's sweet and sensitive but also funny and full of attitude. And she's so smart. Book-smart, yes—she does great in school. But also like take-all-your-money-playing-cards-before-you-even-know-you're-betting smart." I roll my eyes playfully. "It's wild."
"She sounds a lot like my youngest brother, Grant."
"It's fun, isn't it?"
She nods sarcastically.
I hold her gaze, my smile quickly fading. "She also has all these big feelings right now. Like she'll be so nonchalant about something I thought she'd blow up about and then BAM! The littlest thing will set her off." I pause, that familiar weight once again on my chest. I blow out a heavy breath and run my hand down my chin. "Honestly, the feelings, I just—I'm not really sure what to do with them all."
"Sometimes there's nothing to do," she says simply. "Sometimes those emotions just have to come out—let her feel them, process them, and just sort of be there the best you can through it all."
Her words roll right off her tongue like they've been sitting there, waiting. But her answer hits me hard unexpectedly. Ruthie hasn't had that—someone who has been through exactly what she's experiencing—not recently at least. Not now. But that's what she needs. Someone who gets it—who it comes naturally to because they've seen it before. Because they've been there themselves.
I rein myself back in—pulling out the Notes app on my phone to my list of interview questions. Tess must expect what's coming, because she tosses the end of her ponytail behind her and rolls her shoulders back like she's readying herself for war.
"So, let's say Ruthie wants to go to a friend's, but her math isn't done," I read. I glance back up at her and hold her stare. "What would you say?"
"Is that a rule?" she tosses back. "No activities until her schoolwork is finished?"
"It is," I answer. "She does online schooling asynchronously now, but there are things she has to complete every day—classwork to turn in, deadlines to meet, subjects to study. She's pretty good about getting it done, but sometimes she tries to weasel her way out of it."
She chuckles. "Like any kid would."
"So…" I challenge. "What would you say?"
"No."
"What?"
Tess's eyes wander like she's looking for a different answer. "I'd say no," she repeats when she finds me again.
"That's it?" I ask, surprised.
She shrugs. "If that's your rule, then that's the answer. I'm sure there are times when exceptions can be made, but it sounds pretty clear."
