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“You know what, Lola,” I interject. “Waffles and I just got back from a long walk, and we need to get home so I can give him his afternoon treat.”
Waffles halts in his tracks at the mention of his favorite word “treat.” He ditches his tennis ball in the snow and sprints to our front door, barking at me to follow.
“Silly Waffles.” Lola shakes her head and picks up the slobbery ball he left behind. Dylan visibly winces when she wipes it off on her leggings. Those will undoubtedly be tossed in the washer on the sanitize cycle as soon as they get inside.
“We have to hurry, ladybug.” Dylan gestures to their house.
Lola hands me the ball. “Bye, Marlow,” she calls out as she skips ahead and goes inside. I’m puzzled when Dylan doesn’t follow her right away.
“I hope you both have a great night,” I offer warmly.
I notice him flexing his hand again, a smear of red paint on his thumb. He opens his mouth like he wants to speak but doesn’t say anything. After a few seconds, he nods curtly before turning around and going inside his house—the snick of the door closing loudly in the empty street.
5
DYLAN
TODAY HAS BEEN A DISASTER.
Kendra was running late this morning, so I had to get Lola ready for school. She wanted her hair done in fishtail braids, but it’s the one hairstyle I’ve never mastered. When I broke the news she had to settle for pigtails, I distracted her with a set of pink, glittery bows that matched her outfit to avoid a complete meltdown.
Then, while preparing breakfast, I accidentally melted the plastic unicorn pancake mold, and Lola burst into tears when I served her a plate of banana oat pancakes shaped like circles instead of unicorns.
As if that wasn’t enough, Kendra called me fifteen minutes before school was out for the day to tell me she wasn’t able to pick up Lola and had to quit—immediately. She said her dad has been sick for a couple of months and has progressively gotten worse, so she decided to move home with her parents to help take care of him.
Kendra has been a part of our lives for over two years, and Lola will miss her. I sent her a year’s salary to help with her father’s medical expenses and encouraged her to reach out if she needs further support. Given everything she and her family are going through, it’s the least I can do. Despite my irritable disposition, I make it a point to ensure my employees are well taken care of.
The nanny agency that helped me hire Kendra has been no help in finding a replacement. They don’t have anyone else currently available to move to a small town for a part-time position, even though I’m willing to pay a full-time salary.
The one silver lining is that dinner and Lola’s bedtime routine have gone off without a hitch tonight.
Once I finish reading her bedtime story, I rise from the bed and set the copy of Madeline on Lola’s bedside table. It’s her favorite book, and she constantly asks when I’m going to take her to Paris to see the Eiffel Tower so she can be like Madeline.
“Hey, Daddy?” Lola sits up in bed, pushing back her unicorn and rainbow comforter.
“Yes, ladybug?”
“I have an idea.” Her face lights up in anticipation.
“What is it?”
“I want Marlow to be my new nanny,” she declares.
Her unexpected request leaves me dumbfounded, because I’m not sure where this is coming from. When we ran into Marlow and Waffles on our way home from school today, I told her that Kendra quit, but the discussion ended there. It’s not her problem to fix.
“Sweetheart, Marlow’s not a nanny.” I try to break the news as gently as I can. “Actually, I’m not really sure what her job is,” I murmur to myself.
“She’s a painter,” Lola says, leaving no room for doubt.
“Yes, she paints as a hobby, but I don’t think that’s her job,” I say.
“It is. She told me so.”
“I’m sure you’re right, ladybug,” I offer to appease her.
“So, can Marlow be my nanny? Pretty please?” Lola gives her best puppy dog eyes.
I take a deep breath. “Like you said, Marlow already has a job. But we’ll find someone that you’ll like just as much, I promise.” I pull up the covers around her and tuck her in. “How does that sound?”
