“Daddy! I found the shiny one!”
She barrels into the living room, clutching a small tin, Gus skidding behind her. She plops down on the rug at our feet and flips the lid open with a dramatic flourish.
“Yes!” she says, holding one up triumphantly. “This one is for getting married. Penguins use pebbles to get married, Penny.”
“That’s not exactly—”
“That’s a very strong candidate,” Penny says as she leans forward, studying the stone.
“I know.” Elle beams. “It’s smooth. That means you picked good.”
“Picked good?” I repeat.
“If you pick a bad pebble, they don’t marry you,” Elle explains patiently, clearly wondering how her father reached adulthood without knowing this critical fact.
“That makes sense,” Penny says, nodding.
I look from her and back down to Elle, clearing my throat and considering my next words carefully.
“Bug, how would you like for Penny to stay here for a while? Like Miss Mabel did, to help you when I’m at work?”
“Oh!” Elle suddenly looks between us, her eyes wide with excitement. “So if Penny stays here, does that mean she’s like our penguin?”
I nearly swallow my tongue. “What?”
“You said penguins stay together for seasons,” Elle continues, completely undeterred. “So if Penny helps me instead of Miss Mabel, is that a season? Is she staying? Is that like getting married but not married? You don’t have pebbles, Daddy, but I have pebbles, so you can borrow one of mine if you—”
“Okay,” I say, scrubbing a hand over my face, knowing exactly where this conversation is going. “Elle, I promise you, childcare and penguin marriage are not the same thing.”
Penny is softly laughing now, but she reaches out and steadies Elle by the shoulders.
“Helping to take care of you wouldn’t mean I need a pebble,” she says gently. “It would just mean I get to spend more time with you, which is one of my favorite things.”
“For a season?” Elle presses.
“For as long as it makes sense,” Penny answers.
Elle looks at me again, hopeful and relentless. “So she can stay forever?”
I choke on air properly this time, and Penny’s gaze flicks up to mine over Elle’s head. There’s humor there, but there’s also something softer. She hesitates briefly, then looks back down at Elle’s hopeful expression.
“I don’t know about forever,” she tells Elle. “That’s a really long time. But as long as you both want me here, I’d love to stay.”
Her eyes move back to mine, and I see the vulnerability mixed with certainty that this means something for her, too.Something real.
Elle looks back at me and waits. I look at the tin of pebbles in my daughter’s hands, at the shiny one she’s plucked from it and has decided is worthy. At Penny, sitting on my couch, in my house, with my dog leaning into her leg like he’s already decided something too.
“I think,” I say slowly, “that if Penny wants to help look after you, we could try it.” I glance up and meet Penny’s careful eyes. “See how it feels. For all of us.”
Elle gasps. “Really?!”
“Really,” I confirm. “But we’d still need to talk about it properly. And get the guest house ready.”
It’s a bigger offer than it sounds, but somehow, I don’t regret it. The calm, open look Penny gives me makes it clear she understands exactly what I’m trusting her with.
Elle launches forward and throws her arms around Penny again.
“See? I told you!” she murmurs into her sweater. “You get to be our penguin!”
