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“Why don’t you go meet her?” Taking my eyes off the documents for just a moment, I meet Aubree’s and smile. “Go look at her face and then tell me you don’t know who she is.”
“Oh god.” Her cheeks pale, and her hand goes to her stomach, but she turns.
Slowly, she makes her way closer to Mia’s still form, and when she’s close enough, she lowers to her knees to get on Mia’s level.
“Oh my gosh.” Moisture makes its way into Aubree’s eyes as the girl curiously returns her stare. “Oh my word. You look so much like him.”
“Like my daddy?” Friendly, Mia drags her way free of the beanbag and stands to look at Aubree. “I have the same nose as my daddy.”
“Yes,” she whispers. “Yes you do. Your daddy is Charlie Fletcher?”
Just hearing his name, that validation, the label, makes Mia’s grin grow. “My name is Mia Charlotte Fletcher.”Fourfingers. “And I’mfree. What’s your name?”
“Au-Aubree.” Shakily, she brings her hands up and holds up two fingers of one hand, and with the other, butchers how to show six. “I’m twenty-six. Oh my gosh, you’re the prettiest little thing.”
She looks across to me with happy tears in her eyes. “How did you know, and I didn’t?”
I only shrug and go back to filling out my forms. “I was in the right place at the right time. Fletch just happened to walk in, andpow, cat’s outta the bag.”
“Am I coming to visitwifyou, Miss Minka?” Mia studies the television—she doesn’t want to miss out—then she looks to Aubree and snags her hand before she bolts. Finally, she looks across to me and smiles as though I told her we’re going to Disneyworld.
This poor thing; it seems like she’ll latch on toanywoman, no matter who she is.
“You sure are, pretty girl. Me, you, and Aubree are gonna go out for some fun. Then in a little bit—maybe an hour or so—Daddy will finish work and come get you.”
Swiping my signature onto the agreement at the bottom that essentially says I’ll do life in prison if I’m in any way misrepresenting myself or kidnapping the child, I pass the clipboard back to Joan, then I turn to Mia and Aubree, and flash a wide grin. “What do you think we should do?”
“Hotdog on a stick!” Mia wraps her tiny fingers around Aubree’s and dashes my way, tugging her new friend along without remorse. “Can we get a hotdog on a stick?”
“Do you mean a corndog?” I reach my hands out and find pleasure in the way Mia sprints into my arms and monkeys her way onto my hip. “They’re called corndogs.”
“Hotdog on a stick,” she doubles down. “Yes please.”
“Are you hungry? Didn’t they feed you today?” I shoot a glare toward the Trunchbull-like Joan.
“I had spaghetti baloney for lunch.” Wrapping her arm around my neck and cinching in close, she points toward the door as though to lead the way. “I’m not hungry… I just really like hotdogs on a stick.”
“Well, alright.” I glance back to a still-stunned Aubree. “I guess we’re going to get corndogs.”
“Hotdogs on a stick!”
“Maybe we should go dress shopping after,” Aubree volunteers. “You’re gonna need a gown for the ball, Mia.”
The girl gasps and twists in my arm so violently, she almost plummets to the ground. “There’s a ball? We’re going to a ball?”
