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Saoirse nestled into Sutter’s side and accepted another of the black grapes he was feeding to her one by one. As she crunched it between her molars and enjoyed the sweet flavor, there was a hiss. The sky overhead brightened with a series of white flashes.
“Ooo.”
Sutter chuckled at her. The British crowd hadn’t made any noise when the first fireworks went off, watching with stereotypical stoicism. Then Saoirse’s Little had come out, clapping and making appreciative coos with every burst of light. Surprisingly, the crowd of thirty or so who had come to Suzanna’s party had quickly joined in and now each flare elicited a symphony of appreciation.
Although there were a few V.I.P.s in attendance, the atmosphere of the barbeque was completely different from the stuffy club opening. There were no suits and no champagne. Comfortable in a bright red floral scarf around her hair and denim overalls, Suzanna had rushed over to give Sutter and Saoirse a warm welcome when they’d arrived. This was the aunt Sutter remembered: motherly and welcoming. Nothing like the stiff, distant businesswoman she became when Sutter’s uncle was around. She’d gushed over Saoirse’s embroidered black and white sundress and oversized straw hat.
They’d chatted over grilled lamb shish kebabs and warm potato salad enriched with dill and capers. Saoirse had related Lark’s suggestions from the party and Suzanna had whipped out her phone to record notes. When Suzanna had excused herself to oversee the fireworks, she’d patted Sutter’s shoulder and asked him to bring Saoirse back to England on his next trip.
The fireworks ended with a barrage of sustained pops and starbursts that lit the sky and had the whole crowd clapping. In the darkness and silence that followed, Sutter pulled Saoirse on top of him. She settled herself over his long, warm form, propped her head up on one hand, and smiled down at him.
“Good day?” he asked.
“Great day.”
They’d spent it in Greenwich, avoiding the crowds that descended on London itself for the bank holiday Monday. Sutter let his inner geek out as they’d toured the Cutty Sark clipper ship, the maritime museum, and the Royal Observatory. Saoirse had learned more about the quest for longitude from Sutter than from the exhibits. Her Little burst out in response to Sutter’s enthusiasm, and they’d played a wild game of hide-and-seek through the heritage fruit trees of the Queen’s Garden in Greenwich Park.
Saoirse had fallen asleep on the Tube ride back from Greenwich, resting her head on her Daddy’s firm shoulder. When they’d arrived in Fulham, she’d been refreshed and ravenous. She generally had an athlete’s approach to food: it was fuel and she ate enough, in the right proportions, to keep her body functioning at maximum efficiency. But tonight, she’d set into the shish kebabs like they were the best things she’d ever tasted, having seconds and thirds, and she was still hungry.
“But I need two more things to make it a perfect day,” she told him.
He rubbed his hands up and down her back. “What are those two things?”
“Dessert. And kisses from Daddy.”
“Fairly sure I can help with both of those cravings, darlin’,” he drawled.
Then he showed her that he couldn’t just help, he could satisfy her every hunger.
Saoirse’s jetlag coming back from England was a thousand times worse than the trip over. She slumped in her lifeguard chair, green aviators pushed up her nose to cut down on the Montana sun’s glare and sipped from a two-liter bottle of water. In the crystal-clear water below her chair, Littles splashed their caregivers in the shallow end, while a few of the Bigs swam laps in the deep end. Saoirse should have been planning a pool party, which was a combination going-away party for her and return-from-maternity-leave party for the staff member she’d been covering. But her mind floundered in a sun-bleached haze. Everything seemed too bright after London’s overcast skies. Although Saoirse loved the Ranch’s pine-scented air, she missed the washed concrete scent of Fulham. She’d never thought of herself as a city girl until coming to the Ranch. Now, she realized how at home she felt in cities like London and New York.
She also missed Sutter. He’d dropped her off at the Ranch’s front door less than eight hours ago, but she was counting down the minutes until he picked her up for dinner. He was leaving in four days and had made her promise to give him every second she wasn’t working.
She’d readily agreed. She could pack and wrap up her life in Montana after he left, since she wasn’t following him for another week. She’d already committed to spending one day before she left with Carrie. Carrie had pounced on her before she was even through the Ranch’s front doors, demanding all the details of her “dirty weekend”. Saoirse had promised Carrie the deets during their shopping trip before she’d run off to change into her swimsuit and staff uniform.
Telltale hacking from the shallow end grabbed Saoirse’s attention. She grabbed a lifesaver ring and hopped down from her chair in one fluid motion. Three fast steps and she was at the side of the pool. One of the Mommies pushed her choking Little through the water toward the side. As soon as the Little was in reach, Saoirse pulled her out and whacked her firmly on the back.
The Little gasped. “I’m okay.”
“Did you inhale when you should have exhaled?” Saoirse asked, keeping her voice gentle.
The Little nodded, the plastic flowers on her adorable swim cap bobbing. “Ooops.”
Saoirse rubbed her back. “Ooops. Are you feeling like you should take a break and maybe have a juice box before you have more fun?”
The Little turned pleading brown eyes up at her. “I don’t want a time out.”
“Just five minutes to catch your breath and have a drink?”
The Little’s Mommy rubbed her dangling legs. “I think a five-minute break sounds like a good idea. If you come into the shade, I’ll even find you a grape iced lolly.”
The Little sighed and grimaced when it turned into a cough. “Oookay, just five minutes.”
The Mommy flashed Saoirse a grateful smile.
With a final pat on the Little’s back, Saoirse returned to her lifeguard chair, pleased that the jet lag hadn’t clouded the instinct for danger she’d honed over a lifetime around water. As she settled into her chair, her phone pinged.
Daddy:1 hour until I see you.
