Kiersten smiled. “Trust by proxy?”
“Trust with training wheels.” Piper stacked a pile of spiral notebooks in the center of the table. “You know, this is kind of nice.”
“Turning my dining room into a one-room school?”
“Having a friend who lives right next door,” Piper clarified. “I have friends, of course, old friends who live in the area, but I never get to see them. Between traffic and work and the kids’ activities, we never manage to get together.”
“You’re the only friend I’ve made since we moved out here.” She opened a package of gold star stickers and stuck one to Piper’s sleeve. “You are my official First Friend.”
Piper smiled. “I’ve always wanted a gold star.”
“And now you have one.”
Piper’s chest tingled as she touched the star on her sleeve.
She’d always felt intimidated by the other moms at the dance studios where she spent so much time, maybe because she’d been a tomboy who rarely wore makeup and had never been a dancer herself. She wasn’t naturally equipped for the sequins and eyeliner and complicated buns of the dance world. So she’d always held the other moms at arm’s length, even though they were perfectly nice.
But with Kiersten, she felt comfortable. With Kiersten, she felt like she was enough, exactly as she was.
“I don’t think parents are meant to raise their kids alone ...” Piper said slowly, attempting to explain how she felt. “It’s like Rosamund said once, about the Vikings sleeping around the ancient firepit together, or wherever the hell she was talking about.”
“Welcome to my feasting hall.” Kiersten gestured at the dining room. “My Viking name is Kiersten Dirty Sock.”
“I’m Piper Anxiety Leotard.”
Kiersten burst out laughing. “I’m glad you’re in my clan.”
Piper smiled and sank back in her chair, grateful to finally have a clan.
Chapter Thirty-Six
Kiersten
Kiersten triple checked her alarm before getting into bed. She’d had two cups of chamomile tea, but it hadn’t helped.
A flutter of nervous anticipation about tomorrow’s first day of “school” had her feeling wide awake at her normal bedtime. And there were other issues that made her mind race when she should be settling down for the night.
Just before she turned out the light, Garrett had called from somewhere in South Dakota to say good night and wish her luck.
“This is going to be harder than I thought,” she told him.
“Why?”
“I just got a text. Luke’s Orton–Gillingham tutor is moving to Florida.”
“Remind me again ... Orton Gillingham is ...” her husband asked.
“A teaching method for kids with dyslexia. You have to be certified, and she was wonderful. And now she’s moving. She won’t be able to work with Luke.”
“Can you find someone else?”
“I’ll have to,” she said. “But it could take a while. They don’t grow on trees. And it’s expensive.”
“I’ll ask around the office, see if anyone has any recommendations.”
“Thanks.”
“Anything else going on?” he asked. “You sound ... tense.”
