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Ashton crosses the room to the calendar. “Speaking of schedules, I’m supposed to drive carpool tomorrow, but I have an important meeting with new clients. Can you switch with me for Friday?”
“That’s fine. Friday is better for me anyway.” I don’t tell her I’m going for my second session with my new shrink.
Caroline perks up. “Does that mean my new friend can come home with me on Friday?”
Ashton turns away from the whiteboard. “I don’t see why not. Once I get through this meeting tomorrow, I’ll have plenty of time to spend with you on Friday.”
I remove two chicken breasts from the refrigerator and place them on the grill pan on the stove. “She can have her playdate another time if it doesn’t suit you.”
Ashton kisses the top of Caroline’s head. “Friday is fine. We’ll have a good time. What’s your new friend’s name?”
“Buddy,” Caroline says.
Ashton’s lips form an O. “I see. So, your new friend is a boy.”
“The girls in my class are stupid,” Caroline says.
“Caroline,” I scold. “Stupid is not a nice word.”
She folds her arms over her chest. “Well, they are. The boys are way more fun.”
Caroline chatters on about the kids in her class while I cook the chicken breasts and slice them into strips for our salads.
When the doorbell rings, I say, “That’s probably the pizza,” and leave the kitchen to answer it.
Ashton’s voice echoes throughout the house behind me. “Will! Your phone is ringing. Want me to answer it?”
“Sure,” I call back to her.
By the time I return to the kitchen with the pizza, Ashton has ended the call. Joining me at the island, she transfers slices of pizza to two plates while I finish making the salads.
“That was Buddy’s mom confirming the playdate,” my sister says. “She seemed overly concerned about his safety, but I reassured her the kids would be fine.”
“Thank you for arranging the playdate.” I lower my voice so the girls can’t hear me. “The list is endless—carpool and laundry, playdates and meals.”
“I think we’re doing great. This is only our first week,” Ashton says in her usual upbeat tone.
“We’re barely treading water. And I’m not getting any work done.”
A pensive expression crosses Ashton’s face. “Maybe we should hire a housekeeper.”
I drop the paper plates on the table in front of the girls. “That’s a great idea. If we can find someone, I will gladly pay her. I now understand what Tracy meant when she claimed she needed a clone.”
FIFTEEN
JULIA
Late on Wednesday afternoon, Rick Harvey calls to inform me he’s wired a large sum of money to my bank account. Relief floods me when I hear the amount. If I’m careful, the money will get us through until next spring, at which time I hope to be publishing a new novel.
In my previous life, I used royalties from my writing as extra spending money—not that I needed much. Life on the farm was simple, and I accumulated a substantial savings. Now, for the first time, I’m living on my own earnings, and that independence fills me with pride.
I’m doing it, Eleanor, I think. I’m making it on my own.
While Conrad is in school on Thursday morning, I confirm the deposit has arrived in my bank account and go on a shopping spree at Coastal Hardware. I purchase a basic security system but splurge on accessories for my handgun. I stop by the shooting range for a session on my way home. My aim needs work, but I could stop an intruder if necessary.
Conrad and I spend the afternoon installing our security system, and I feel slightly more at peace when I retire that night.
Since Conrad is going home from school with Caroline on Friday, I plan to spend the entire day writing. I have a new idea for a thriller plot that has nothing to do with human trafficking and witness protection programs. But when I sit down at my computer with a cup of chai tea, my thoughts soon drift to Will Darby. He’s been at the forefront of my mind since I saw him at the parents’ meeting on Monday night. By the time I finish my tea without having written a word, I close my computer and decide to go for a walk on the beach.
