Page 53 of That’s My Orc, Tusk Off

The cursor blinked at the end of my message I still hadn’t sent Willa.

I’d mention it to Willa Saturday morning. She’d review the family’s qualifications, we’d discuss Fern, and we’d make the final decision together.

I shut down my computer and left for the night.

The next meeting started the same way the others had.

I had coffee waiting at Willa’s spot. Two creams. No sweetener.

She walked in carrying a different container, this one rectangular. When she set it on the table and removed the lid, the smell hit me first.

Sweet.

“Almond sugar cookies,” she said. “With almond icing and sprinkles.”

I reached for one before she’d finished speaking.

The first bite made me close my eyes. Soft. Sweet. The unusual flavor layered through every part of it.

“Good?” she asked.

I opened my eyes to find her watching me, her mouth curved in a smile that made my chest feel too full.

“Very good,” I strangled out.

She took a cookie for herself and pulled her notebook closer. “So. Safety protocols.”

Yes. Work. We were here to work.

I pulled up the document on my tablet, but my attention kept drifting to her hands as she wrote notes. The way she held her pen. The small crease between her eyebrows when she concentrated.

“Traig?”

I blinked. “Yes?”

“I asked if you thought we needed two staff members per classroom or if one would be enough.”

“Two,” I said. “Definitely two. For safety.”

She made a note. “And the parent waiver forms?”

“I’ll draft them tonight.”

“Perfect.” She reached for another cookie, and her eyes brightened as she took a bite. “These are some of my favorites. I usually make them at Christmas, but wanted to share them with you.”

“They’re perfect.”

She looked up at me, cookie halfway to her mouth, and her eyes darkened.

The adoption application sat in my tablet, two folders deep in the directory. I should mention it. This was the time. We were already talking about Saturday. It would be simple to say, A family inquired about Rue. They’re coming Saturday afternoon.

Simple.

But Krem yelled in the hall about the mossnibbles stealing the ingredients for the lunch he was making, and we got up to help him track them down. By the time we’d found the mossnibble nest and taken back the food, thankfully still in its packaging, and returned to the conference room, Willa had moved on to discussing liability insurance.

I’d tell her tomorrow. Or I’d send her a message tonight. There was time.

We worked through the rest of the safety protocols, finalized the parent communication plan, and ate half the cookies between us.