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“I can sit most weekends. School nights will be a bit more difficult because I have swim practice after school, followed by studying and homework.”
“Of course.” Libby smiled, swallowing down disappointment. She wasn’t sure what to do about the weeknights. She had to be at the restaurant from ten thirty to three for the brunch and lunch crowd and then back by six thirty for dinner service. The early shift was fine because Clara spent those few hours in day care. But evenings would be a problem. She needed to find a nanny . . . but the cost was prohibitive.
Libby paid Charlie, and the girl beamed happily.
“Do you need a ride home?” Libby asked.
“Oh no, my brother, Spencer, is waiting for me.”
“Spencer is your brother?” Spencer was Lia McGregor’s good-looking but intimidatingly big brother-in-law. The man had hovered around his heavily pregnant wife, Daffodil, all night. The woman in turn had rolled her eyes and good naturedly teased him about his overprotectiveness. Libby envied the woman her doting, concerned husband. And couldn’t help but compare how the man was around his wife with how absent and disinterested Greyson had been throughout Libby’s pregnancy.
She forced the bitter memory to the back of her mind and focused on the girl. Spencer and Daff had been introduced by their first names only, so she hadn’t made the connection that they might be related to her babysitter. Charlie was biracial, and with her dusky skin and soft dark-brown curls, the familial relationship wasn’t immediately apparent. But now she could see the resemblance: the girl had her brother’s emerald eyes, shy smile, and dimples. But she was very petite, while her hulking brother was huge.
“Yep. He’s a little overprotective; he’d never allow me to walk home or even use Uber. I mean, we have, like, two Uber drivers in town, and Spencer knows them both, so I don’t know what his deal is.” She rolled her eyes, clearly finding this bit of brotherly tyranny tiresome. Libby hid her smile and nodded.
“Best not to keep him waiting any longer,” she said, and the girl nodded.
“Thanks again, Mrs. Chapman. Same time tomorrow night?”
“Yes please.” Libby nodded, and the girl bent over the crib to gently stroke the sleeping baby’s head.
“Sweet dreams, Clara. See you soon. Night, Mrs. Chapman. See you, Tina.”
Tina—who had been silently staring at her laptop throughout Libby’s exchange with the teen—looked up and waved as the girl flounced out in that carefree manner only teens seemed to possess.
“She’s sweet,” she said in reference to Charlie, dragging her reading glasses off and pinching the bridge of her nose tiredly. “God, I’m knackered.”
“Me too.” Libby sank down in the chair opposite her friend. “How did we do?”
“Just about broke even tonight,” Tina said with a tight smile.
“It’ll get better,” Libby reassured her—mentally crossing her fingers in hopes that her words would prove to be prophetic.
Her friend nodded with an unconvinced smile. “It has to.”
“Tina, how much did you spend on this place? Renovations and rebranding included?”
“My inheritance more than covered it,” Tina said with another tight smile. “It’s fine. It’s just . . .”
“Just what?” Libby prompted her when her friend stalled in midsentence. She hated feeling like Tina was hiding something from her. Libby knew that she had been too involved with her own life and concerns to pay more than cursory attention to her friend’s behavioral changes before now, but it was becoming more and more apparent that something was very wrong with Tina. And had been for a long time. It made her once again second-guess her decision to go into this business venture with Tina. But it was too late for regrets, and she could only hope this worked out, despite whatever was going on with her friend.
“This is the first thing I’ve done,” Tina said. “The first meaningful thing, and my parents are just waiting for me to fail. I know it. They think that I’m a total waste of space. Their flighty daughter, who could never keep down a job, trying to run a restaurant. Without any qualifications whatsoever.”
Self-doubt reflected in the woman’s pretty sea-green eyes, and Libby shook her head. She felt abruptly terrible about all her earlier uncertainty regarding Tina’s commitment to the restaurant. In a moment of revelatory clarity, she understood that Tina was absolutely terrified of failing. Libby had judged her too harshly earlier; Tina wanted this to work, but it wasn’t easy for her. Libby, with her past experience in the restaurant business, had simply expected Tina to immediately get everything right, when that was a near-impossible ask for even an experienced restaurateur.
Looking at her miserable friend, she mentally readjusted her expectations and dialed back her impatience. Reassurance and support would get both of them a lot further than criticism and doubt.
“Stop it,” she commanded the morose woman sitting across from her, and the distant look faded from Tina’s eyes as she focused on Libby again.
