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Sighing heavily, I concede. “Fine. One drink.”
Zoe gives an excited little squeak as I head to the door to see who she’s hired.
“Hi, Miss Turner,” Annie says brightly as soon as I open the door.
“Hi, Annie. Thanks for coming on such short notice.” I step aside to let the smart young high school girl enter our home.
She’s babysat Sarah for an hour here or there if Zoe doesn’t have time to help, and I adore the enthusiastic teen. She’s more than capable of watching Sarah until we get home.
“Happy to help. Zoe said you had an exciting day today?”
“I have a new client,” I explain, heading to the kitchen to ensure she’s all set up with an afternoon snack. “We should be home before dinner, but I’ll set out some lasagna to thaw. Feel free to help yourself as well.”
“Thanks, Miss Turner.”
“Heidi, the Uber’s here. Let’s go!” Zoe calls from the front door.
I guess I won’t be changing out of my work clothes. The tea-length navy wrap dress I wore to work will be fine, and I slip grudgingly back into my heels as I head toward the door.
“I’ll be back in a bit, Sarah. You’ll be good for Miss Annie, won’t you?”
“Yes, Mama,” she agrees, her dark head of curls cascading around her sweet heart-shaped face and into her hazel eyes.
The eyes she gets from me, but the dark curls must be from her father. I get my honey blonde waves from my mom. The stray thought of my mom brings stinging tears to my eyes. She’s been gone for over two years now, and I still miss her every day.
“Love you, pumpkin.” I press a last kiss to my daughter’s forehead, then I follow Zoe through the front door.
As soon as I step down from the front porch, Zoe hooks her arm in mine and drags me toward the Uber. “They’ll be fine. And we’re going to have a great time,” she insists. “I heard about this cute little bar that just opened in Pacific Heights. It’s supposed to be chic with fantastic martinis.”
“Martinis? You’re incorrigible,” I state, laughing lightly as I slip into the back seat of the car with her.
“Live a little!”
Zoe chatters lightly as we ride into town, telling me about how her afternoon with Sarah went before diving in with the fact that my little girl is picking up vocabulary like Zoe can’t believe.
“Why do I get the feeling you’ve taught my daughter some terrible word?” I ask, quirking an eyebrow.
“I would never! But... she may have inadvertently picked up the phrase ‘double damn’.” Zoe gives a bashful smile, silently asking forgiveness.
“Are you kidding me? She’s three, and she already has a worse mouth than I do. This is what I get for trying to raise my daughter anywhere but the South,” I joke.
“Oh, please! You couldn’t leave me!”
Giving Zoe a playful nudge with my elbow, I flash her a smile. “I still can’t believe you’re teaching my toddler curse words.”
“At least it wasn’t arealcurse word.” Zoe opens the car door right as we pull up to the curb, fleeing before I can scold her further for teaching my daughter bad words.
The street is humming with the excitement of the workday coming to an end, people entering a cute little brick-faced building with the nameFiasco’sin bold black letters above the door.
Hits from the eighties and nineties trickle from the speakers as we enter the finely decorated establishment. A natural wood counter wraps around the bar with brushed nickel stools holding several patrons still dressed in work attire. The oak tables filling the rest of the small establishment have adorable spindle chairs painted in an array of pastel colors surrounding them.
“Okay, you’re right. This place is adorable,” I admit as we snag the last two open stools at the bar.
“Right?”
“What can I get you ladies?” the bartender asks, greeting us with a broad smile and straight white teeth.
“I’ll take a Cosmo,” Zoe says without missing a beat as she leans her elbows onto the bar and flutters her eyelashes flirtatiously. “And my friend would like a dirty martini, three olives.”
