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Harper clearly still stands by her theory. “You’re just a guy! Who cares if you walk into a room! Now, if Batman walks into a room…that’s really something.”
Luke looks at me like, Can you believe this?
“She’s right, you know. It’s just a couple of World Series wins,” I tease. “No big deal.”
“Pfft. Just a regular Joe.”
“Boring, really. I’m yawning just thinking about it.”
Harper cuts in here. “What are you two doing?”
Luke tousles her hair. “Riffing, kid. We’re riffing. Now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to change out of this costume. It’s chafing.”
Harper continues to open Sugar Stand every few days, whenever the weather is nice or Luke doesn’t have something else planned for them. Before she heads out, I help her prepare fresh baked goods to sell, but I try to let her do most of the work herself so she really feels as if she’s earning every bit of her profits. Which to date is only $19.
“How much is a Barbie Dreamhouse anyway?” she asks while we bake. “I’ve gotta be getting close to my goal.”
I look it up on my phone.
“Says it’s $150 at Target.”
Her face falls. “$150!? That’ll take me all summer! I have to step up my game.”
She proceeds to dump two entire bags of chocolate chips into the stand mixer and turn it up to its highest setting. Chips go flying, pinging around the kitchen like bullets.
The next day, Harper has a playdate. Peyton, a friend from her private school in the city, comes over to the house with her nanny. Peyton is a chubby-cheeked redhead with glasses and a big toothy smile. Her nanny is a supermodel-tall, svelte-thin, hyper-blonde bombshell named Alexia.
Luke lets them in and gives them the lay of the land. I hear giggling from down the hall.
“You have such good taste!” Alexia coos. “Look at this furniture! You should be an interior designer.”
Look at this furniture, I mimic to myself bitterly.
“Oh.” He forces an awkward laugh. “The place came pre-furnished, actually.”
“No, you’re kidding! What a find.”
What a find! she says while hoping she’ll find him bending down on one knee and proposing to her on the spot.
Their conversation dwindles as they disappear farther down the hall and, unrelated, I accidentally burn some onions I had going on the stove because I’m standing clear across the kitchen with my ear tilted toward the hallway, trying to listen. It’s pure happenstance.
I toss the burned onions and start over chopping with vigor. Then the bombshell herself lets herself into the kitchen. My kitchen. Her charge is nowhere in sight.
“Anything good to eat around here?” she asks, all formal accent dropped now that she’s only talking to me, the fellow help.
“Um, I mean, I’d be happy to get you something. If you can wait a bit, I’m making lunch. There will be more than enough for everyone.”
“Yes, that’d be great. It’s all almonds and bird seed in the pantry at Peyton’s house. Her parents are totally wacko.” She suddenly whirls around to face me, eyes alarmed. “Don’t tell them I said that.”
I mime turning a key in a lock on my lips. “Secret’s safe with me. I don’t even know them.”
She tosses her hand into the air as if to say, It doesn’t even matter.
“The dad’s in hedge funds. The mom’s like some famous yoga lady. Your setup is way better. How’d you get this gig anyway?”
At this point, she has let herself into the pantry and is rifling around the snack drawers. I just organized things in there yesterday, so it pains me to see her haphazardly pulling stuff out and putting it away wherever she wants. Even Harper knows better than that.
“The job sort of fell into my lap,” I answer.
“God, you’re lucky.” She holds up some Cheez-Its. “Can I open these?”
I nod. It’s not like I can tell her no.
“Working for Luke Allen.” She whistles long and low then pops four crackers into her mouth and proceeds to talk while she chews. “Jesus, I’d die if I got to look at that man every day. Where is he anyway? The girls set up shop in the playroom and then he ran for the hills.”
Interesting. So he’s not dying for more alone time with mommy long legs over here? I’m shocked.
“I’m not sure. I thought I saw him heading to work out.”
It’s not true. I haven’t seen him, but I don’t want her to search him out, so I came up with a tiny white lie. Sue me.
“Right.” She crams another fistful of crackers into her mouth. They really must not feed her over there at Peyton’s house. “So is he dating anyone?”
I spin back to tend to my food. “I have no idea.”
“Really? There aren’t like women over here at the house on the weekends?”
She can’t see me grimace. Thank god.
When I reply, I’ve taken on a hard tone. “Sorry. I’m really not allowed to talk about this stuff. No offense, but for all I know, you’ll sell the information to some tabloid.”
