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Her words echo Marlowe’s from yesterday. If you don’t get a hold of your emotions, you could lose everything.
“I’m dealing with a lot right now, Ashton. Just give me some space.”
“I’m trying to help, little brother. Do you want me to keep the girls this weekend?”
The idea appeals to me. But I can’t keep dumping my children on other people. We need to figure out how to move on with our lives together. “Thanks. But we’re fine. Maybe we’ll come out to Marsh Point on Sunday for a boat ride.”
Ashton presses her hands together. “Perfect. I’ll plan a Labor Day cookout.”
I manage a smile, even though a cookout is the last thing I want to attend. When the time comes, I’ll create a legitimate excuse to bail.
* * *
A problem at a project site causes me to be late in picking up the girls from school at noon. My girls seem unfazed by my tardiness, but Ellie’s daughter cries hysterically all the way home.
Ellie is waiting for us in her driveway when we arrive. She throws open the back door, unbuckles Zoe from the car seat, and hugs her trembling daughter tight.
I roll down my window. “I’m sorry, Ellie. I had a crisis at work and lost track of time.”
“It happens.” Her snippy tone tells me it is not okay for me to be late in picking up her daughter. “Have you found a new nanny yet?”
“Nope. I’ve decided not to get a new nanny.”
Ellie’s eyebrows shoot up above her designer sunglasses. “You’re making a terrible mistake. You won’t last long alone. You know the saying. Behind every good man is a good woman.”
I put my truck in reverse. “And I lost my good woman six weeks ago.”
Zoe cries into her mother’s neck. “I was so scared, Mommy. He just left us there. I didn’t think anyone was coming to get me.”
Ellie jiggles her daughter. “Shh. It’s okay, honey. Mommy won’t let it happen again.” She shifts her daughter to the opposite hip. “I’m sorry, Will, but this situation isn’t working out for me. I’ll have to make other arrangements. I need to be in a car pool with someone I trust to pick up my daughter on time.”
“I think that’s best for both of us.” I back out of the driveway and peel off down the street.
From the back seat, Caroline says, “It’s okay, Daddy. Zoe is a crybaby. No one at school likes her.”
If Tracy were here, she’d use this opportunity to teach Caroline about being kind to others when they are going through difficult times. But since I’m fresh out of profound advice, I ask what the girls would like for lunch instead.
“Grilled cheeses!” they call out in unison.
“Grilled cheeses it is,” I say with little enthusiasm. And none of us are surprised when I burn them.
“I’m starving. What’re we gonna eat, Daddy?” Caroline asks, watching me stuff the ruined sandwiches down the disposal.
The sight of three ripe bananas in a basket on the counter brings an idea to mind. “We’ll have my specialty sandwich. I lived off them when I was in college.”
Caroline gives me a skeptical look. “What’s so special about it? And why haven’t you ever made them for us?”
“Because you never asked me to.” I walk the girls to the table. “Now sit here while I make them.”
Five minutes later, I join them at the table with three sandwiches on plates.
Caroline peels back the top layer of bread. “What is this?”
“Banana and mayonnaise,” I say, sinking my teeth into my sandwich.
Caroline turns up her nose. “Seriously, Daddy? That’s gross.”
“How do you know when you haven’t tried it? Aunt Ashton used to make me banana and mayonnaise sandwiches all the time.”
