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Willow parked inside the only open space in the two-stall garage, the other side packed but meticulously organized with shelving units, storage bins and parking for the collection of ride-on toys. The tools of the day-care trade.
Would the inspector, who’d invaded her house, take all this away from them—the security she’d been so determined to build for herself and for her child? Would Willow be forced to break the promise she’d made to her own mother that she would always be independent?
“That can’t be happening,” she said as she opened the rear door of her SUV.
Luna looked back at her, already lifting her arms. She’d wondered earlier if the call about the switch could have been related to the threatening letter from the week before. Now she had to believe that all of this was connected. You deserve everything you get, bitch. Tender Years will be history. Some of the words from the letter that had been tucked in her front door repeated in her thoughts then. Was this what the writer had been talking about? Would whatever he or she had planned be something worse?
She couldn’t think about that now. Not when the state official, who could damage her business, was still inside. She had just pulled Luna from her car seat when the door to the house crept open. Candace leaned her head out, her thick salt-and-pepper ponytail falling forward over her round, amber-skinned face.
“He’s with Tori and Alicia in the crib room,” she whispered.
Willow peeked at her watch, noting that it was naptime. “Being quiet, I hope.”
“He’s been okay, really. He’s already been through the kitchen, the toddler room, the activity room and the backyard.”
“Did he go into my apartment?” She winced as she pictured her unmade bed and the rinsed cereal bowl in the sink. It was the one place she didn’t have to be fussy.
“No. I made it clear that is your private residence, and none of our charges is ever allowed past that locked door.”
“What will we do if he finds something? What if we get written up?”
Candace shook her head, the ponytail swinging. “You know he won’t. You’re so focused on the rules that you could probably teach this stuff to anyone opening a new center.”
“Rules keep the kids safe. That’s also our job.”
“Yeah, you always say that, too. I’ll see you inside.”
Candace closed the door, leaving Willow still holding Luna in the sweltering garage.
Willow’s hurried breathing finally slowed for the first time since she’d received the call at the coffee shop. How could this all have happened on the same day? Wasn’t the news about Luna enough?
If she hadn’t been wasting time at Java Jane’s, with a Colton no less, maybe she could have done something, at least been there when the inspector had arrived. She’d told Asher she’d agreed to meet him only so she could have the chance to tell her mother’s story, but it was more than that, and she knew it. More than wanting another opportunity to see Harper since they could be related, Willow was curious about the single father who was caught up in that mess with her and Luna. She knew better. Look at what curiosity did to cats.
Anyway, what would she have done differently if she’d been the one to answer the door instead of Candace or one of the other staff members? Would she have refused to let the guy in? All that would have accomplished was to get the center shut down.
Even if that had to be the intent of whoever had filed the complaint.
Willow closed her eyes to hold the panic welling inside her at bay. She couldn’t let Tender Years be shuttered. She’d worked too hard, sacrificed too much.
She took a deep breath that was neither fortifying nor calming and climbed the steps into the house. A pale, bespectacled man passed her just inside the doorway.
“You must be Mrs. Merrill. I’m Inspector Robert Bilkey of the Arizona Department of Health Services, Child Care Facilities Licensing.” He lifted his badge so she could get a better look at his credentials and then smiled at her daughter. “Just a few more spaces, and I will be out of your way.”
“Out of my way?”
Was that code for he’d found something awful and would be filing a report about it? Though she followed him into the garage, he didn’t answer, already examining the see-through tubs of supplies. With a frown, she closed the door and continued into the house. It was the first time all day that Luna seemed at ease—except for those few minutes with Asher—and Willow was the one who wanted to cry.
She moved from room to room, examining their contents with a more critical eye than usual. Were there sponges, which health officials considered breeding grounds for bacteria, on the kitchen sink? Were all outlets carefully covered in the toddler room, which had once been the formal living room? Were the gates closing off the trash cans in the diaper-changing area properly sealed?
The sliding barn door marking the entrance to the formal dining room, which had been converted and lined with cribs, offered no clues about what the inspector had been looking for. Everything seemed to be in its proper place. If she’d made a tragic error, she had no idea what it was.
Tori hurried toward her with a toddler, Derrick, propped on her hip.
“Is the inspector gone yet?” she said in a stage whisper.
Willow reached up to brush the child’s sweaty red hair and then gestured with a tilt of her head toward the garage.
“Think he found anything?” Tori asked.
