Page 31 of Touch of Class

“Exactly. We’re a single unit with regular rotations.”

“And you don’t feel like a part-time parent?”

Daphne bristled. “The fact that you even asked that confirms you don’t have kids, but I suppose that also makes it okay, because you can’t possibly know until you know.”

“Know what?”

“There’s no such thing as a part-time parent. No matter where I am or what I’m doing, a part of my heart and mind are with Izzy, and Hugh feels the same. Even though there’s a full kitchen upstairs, we almost always end up eating together. Unlike other families, we’re not together because we have to be. We’re together because we want to be.”

Gillian turned the concept over in her mind. It wasn’t like any arrangement she’d ever heard of before, but the more she mulled the details, the more she found to admire.

“What now?” Daphne pressed.

“Nothing.”

“Gillian,” she drew out her name in consternation.

“I’m serious,” she said. “I’m trying to find holes or missing pieces, but you’ve clearly crafted something unique with creativity and deliberation.”

“Then why the therapy face?”

“This is my content face.”

“Looks the same.”

“We can’t all have been theater kids, Daphne.”

“You could’ve at least tried,” Daphne grumbled good-naturedly. “Are you honestly not silently judging me behind some business-formal, blank-slate therapist persona?”

Gillian shook her head.

“Why not?”

“A, I don’t completely subscribe to the blank-slate model. B, your life is not my business, formal or otherwise. And C, if you must know, I’m genuinely impressed.”

The corners of Daphne’s mouth curled up. “Impressed?”

“Yes.” Gillian stood. “Impressed and intrigued by the care and thoughtfulness of the arrangement. You’ve constructed a system to meet everyone’s individual needs and the needs of the family unit.”

“It’s not too hippie, commune, unconventional for you?”

“Oh, it may be all those things, but unconventional doesn’t always equal unhealthy. On the contrary, my one conversation with Izzy offered at least anecdotal evidence that unconventionality has served her well. She’s confident, intelligent, and engaging, likely because she has two parents who love her and have committed to her care.”

Daphne stared up at her, some of the mischief returning to her eyes. “Be honest. Does it shock you to approve of my parenting?”

Gillian rolled her eyes. “Sorry to disappoint, but I’m not an easy woman to shock.”

And with that she turned and left, not wanting to linger long enough for Daphne to read her expression or body language, because while “shocked” may’ve been too grandiose a descriptor, she’d be damned if she wasn’t pleasantly surprised by the depth of deliberation Daphne had described, and at the realization that perhaps she’d underestimated her.

Nine

Daphne arrived at Buffalo’s historic Central Terminal loaded down with copious amounts of single-serve candy bars and a bunch of swag bags. She’d been pleasantly surprised to receive an invitation to the small business trunk or treat event a week before Halloween, or rather for Robin to invite her to participate as part of their group. Aside from being a great way to get the word out to potential clients, she also found community events good fun, and she hadn’t done anything overtly whimsical since she’d moved to town more than a month ago.

Fall was in full swing as the trees lining the parking lot popped in heavy doses of red and orange, while people in a wide range of costumes bustled about setting up tables and opening the trunks of their cars to reveal treasure troves of goodies.

Daphne threaded her way between barrels being filled to bob for apples and a crew of skeletons carrying decorative bales of hay, until someone shouted her name.

Turning, she found Robin waving wildly under a Little Red Riding Hood costume. Her crimson cloak hung open to reveal head-to-toe black leather. She’d painted her lips ruby and set off her dark eyes even more dramatically with coal-colored eyeliner. For a few seconds, Daphne was so taken with the ensemble she didn’t even notice the person beside her until they stepped forward in a perfect rendition of the Big Bad Wolf in furry gloves, a waistcoat, and a top hat perched rakishly over canine ears. Daphne had never seen two classic fairy tale characters so impeccably dressed, and she rated it even odds as to which one would devour the other first.