“I do sometimes. But I prefer tea in the mornings.”
He busied himself with the kettle while speaking. “I know yesterday was a lot all at once. I just wanted to check whether you had any questions before the morning chaos officially begins.”
I leaned against the island. “I think you covered everything I need to know about the children. Are there any other issues you think I should be aware of?”
He rubbed the back of his neck. “Honestly, I think most of the issues are behavioral.”
He paused and glanced at the stairs, making sure his children wouldn’t overhear him discussing their shortcomings.
“They’ve learned,” he continued carefully, “that if they push hard enough, adults usually leave.”
Ah, yes. That made sense.
“How long have they been without consistent childcare?” I asked.
He handed me the tea mug before answering. “Depends on what you mean by consistent.”
Too long, then.
I accepted the tea carefully. Earl Grey. Not bad.
“I know I spoil them,” he admitted suddenly.
“A little,” I said gently.
He laughed once under his breath. “Is it that obvious?”
I smiled. “Mr. Lawrence, it’s not my place to tell you how to raise your children. But they obviously have every possession they could ever want and more.”
He watched me over the rim of his coffee mug. “First, please call me Conrad. I insist.”
“Very well.”
“I just…” He stopped. “As you know, I work a lot—honestly, a hell of a lot more than most parents. But, then again, I’m a single parent who is now making up for the salary of two parents.”
“I’m very sorry about your wife’s passing. Death doesn’t just create mourning, does it?” I asked. “It requires the construction of an entirely new life.”
He slightly cocked his head to the side. “That sounds like something someone who’s experienced loss would say.”
I stared at the wall. I’d known more loss than he could fathom. And I’d lived more lifetimes than he could count. “I think we’ve all experienced some level of loss.”
“I’m sure you’re right. Well, I should warn you, Jade was a damn good attorney, and my gifted children inherited their mother’s intelligence.”
Oh. His wife had been gorgeousandbrilliant. Suddenly, I was very aware of my plain black outfit—not that that made anyrealistic difference for me. Wanting to cover my silly reaction, I nodded, encouraging him to continue.
Mr. Lawrence continued. “Bianca, for example, has hyperlexia. She was reading before she could speak in full sentences. And her little sister, Billie, loves to copy her. She uses big words that are shocking to hear coming from a five-year-old. I’m sure you’ll hear exactly what I’m referring to soon enough.”
He sighed. “Anyway, when I’m home, I don’t want every interaction to become discipline.”
That was completely understandable. Unfortunately, it was also unsustainable. Conrad truly loved his children, but perhaps he had some incorrect assumptions. And some of his priorities were a bit mixed up.
“The problem,” I said carefully, “is that children often experience too much permissiveness as uncertainty rather than kindness.”
He shifted slightly, checking his watch. “We’ll have to continue this conversation later. I really hate to leave, but if I don’t, I’ll be late. Traffic is such a bitch at this hour.”
And with that, Conrad headed to work. He returned approximately three minutes later to retrieve two forgotten documents, then came back again for the car keys he’d left on the counter when collecting said document—each time with visible reluctance about leaving the children.
After reassuring him and seeing him off one last time, I turned my attention to cooking. Three wrapped peanut butter sandwiches sat on the counter next to lunch bags.
