Page 16 of The Delivery

Mr. Man slides a piece of buttered toast onto Maddy’s plate. “ A rat he found in the garden ,” he says, answering a question Rebecca did not hear.

“Any insects?” Maddy asks.

“He could not find any insects last night. But he ate some eggs.”

“Mr. Fox, are you full from your rat and eggs? Or do you need ’nother bite?” Maddy brings her empty cereal spoon to Mr. Fox’s snout, makes a slurping sound, her best attempt at ventriloquism.

Rebecca leans over, gives Mark a kiss on the cheek. “Good morning.”

Mark’s eyes do not leave Mr. Man, who is now loading the dishwasher.

“Would you like breakfast, Rebecca?” Mr. Man asks.

“No, thanks.”

“Or should I call you Beccs?”

Mark says, a touch sharply, “Rebecca is fine.”

Mr. Man nods. “Mark, would you like a top-off of your coffee?”

“I’m good,” Mark says. Then to Rebecca: “Why don’t I take Maddy to school? You can stay and . . . figure all this out?”

“Yay! Daddy Carpool!”

When Mark drives Maddy, he swerves playfully and they sing along to the Disney Channel on Sirius with fake opera voices. He is so much fun.

Rebecca says, “Sure.”

Mark stands up, puts his hands on her shoulders, looks down into her eyes, his most tender gaze. “You okay?” he asks quietly. “You nervous about any of this?”

“Of course I’m nervous,” Rebecca says. But then she adds, “I got it,” and is surprised to know that she means it.

Mark studies her a moment longer. “Okay. I’ll keep my phone on, even in meetings. Anything comes up. Anything.”

Rebecca nods.

Maddy slingshots herself out of her chair, runs to the door to the garage, hopping up and down. “Daddy Carpool! Let’s go, let’s go!”

“Coming, child!” Mark says in his funny, gruff voice.

“Bye, Mr. Man!” Maddy gives an exuberant wave.

Mr. Man straightens up from the dishwasher, returns the wave. “Have a great day at school, Maddy. Mr. Fox and I will hold down the encampment.”

“Fort.” Maddy giggles. “Hold down the fort.”

She is beaming as she heads into the garage. Rebecca cannot remember the last time she has seen Maddy head to school cheerfully. She is normally riddled with anxiety about what Sydney and the Mean Girls have in store.

Rebecca braces herself and then turns on her phone. Ding ding ding— texts and notifications pour in. The useless blow-and-go gardener wants a raise. She needs to bring allergy-free snacks for the upcoming student showcase night. Their accountant needs her and Mark to Docusign some kind of a release for last year’s taxes.

She can already feel her chest tightening in the face of the demands of the day.

When she looks up, Mr. Man is studying her from across the kitchen.

She hoists her phone. “So much happening.”

Mr. Man closes his eyes. His lids flicker, as if from REM. His eyes open again. “ I see ,” he says.