today,” Tommy said.
She smiled, reached over, and caught him playfully by the arm. He laughed and struggled to get away. But she pulled him closer, wrapped her arms around him, and squeezed.
“Do you know what a special kid you are?”
“You’re squishing me, Mom. And, yes, you only tell me every day.”
She kissed his forehead and released him. He dashed out of the room, giggling. She stood and started toward the shower in her flannel pajamas.
She paused to watch Tommy set out his uniform. Next to his shin guards, he carefully positioned the new black-and-white Adidas cleats, which lay unblemished.
FIFTEEN
H AD SHE PUT OFF the house-shopping excursion because she needed sleep, or had her mother’s words resonated? Peyton wasn’t sure, but she’d slept for three extra hours, then drove to Nancy Gagnon’s home.
Now she sat rocking the baby Nancy was calling Autumn.
“You look very natural doing that,” Nancy said.
Peyton was seated at Nancy’s kitchen table, holding the baby she’d found two nights earlier.
“I’m rusty,” Peyton said. “My son is seven, and he’s an only child.”
“Looks like you’re ready for another,” Nancy said. She stood at the counter, chopping strip steak into half-inch cubes. Occasionally, she lifted the cutting board, moved to the stainless-steel stove, and used the knife to slide the meat into a pot.
“Your soup smells good,” Peyton said.
“I told your mother I’d send some home with you. Do you want more kids?”
“That’s putting the cart before the horse.”
“You’re not married?”
“Mom hasn’t told you?”
“We just play bridge once a week.”
Peyton tried to guess Nancy Gagnon’s age. She looked closer to her own age than to her mother’s age.
“I’m divorced.”
Nancy just nodded. “There seems to be a lot of interest in little Autumn. I hope we get her real name soon.”
“We’re working on that. She wasn’t born in a Maine hospital, we know that much. Who else has shown an interest in her?”
“That state trooper.”
“Leo Miller?”
Nancy nodded. Classical music played from an iHome atop the granite countertop. “Yes. I find that man offensive. Have you dealt with him?”
Peyton reserved comment.
“But Susan Perry from DHHS is wonderful. I’ve dealt with her before.”
“As a foster parent?” Peyton said.
“Yes. And your people have been great, too, of course. Several Border Patrol agents brought clothing and toys.”
“Has Susan mentioned a timeline?”
“For moving Autumn? No. But I’ve offered to keep her as long as they need me to. Tom sold the grocery store last year, and we’re both home now. Our girls are at Bates for college, so it’s nice to have a baby in the house.”
“Thanks for doing this,” Peyton said. “I’ll try to stop in every few days.”
Peyton had heard leather seats were colder than cloth and fully expected her life to pass without getting a chance to learn the difference. But there she was, just after lunch, sitting in the posh interior of Jeff’s BMW X5; although, the answer to her question would have to wait because his leather seats were heated.
“You really look great, P,” Jeff said. “But be careful not to spill your coffee, okay?”
“Don’t forget Tommy’s soccer game, Jeff. He’s counting on you to be there.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
She looked at him and turned away. Maybe she was maturing; she’d held her tongue on two occasions today—Nancy’s mention of Leo Miller and now “wouldn’t miss it” from the man who’d missed nearly half of his son’s life.
Jeff drove from Main Street, where his real-estate agency was located, to Medway Road to see a three-bedroom cape with an attached two-car garage for $185,000. As the luxury SUV glided smoothly over the frost-heaved road, she stole occasional looks at him and thought of the past. She’d never forget how she felt the day he left—alone, in a city so far from home—yet there had been good
She smiled, reached over, and caught him playfully by the arm. He laughed and struggled to get away. But she pulled him closer, wrapped her arms around him, and squeezed.
“Do you know what a special kid you are?”
“You’re squishing me, Mom. And, yes, you only tell me every day.”
She kissed his forehead and released him. He dashed out of the room, giggling. She stood and started toward the shower in her flannel pajamas.
She paused to watch Tommy set out his uniform. Next to his shin guards, he carefully positioned the new black-and-white Adidas cleats, which lay unblemished.
FIFTEEN
H AD SHE PUT OFF the house-shopping excursion because she needed sleep, or had her mother’s words resonated? Peyton wasn’t sure, but she’d slept for three extra hours, then drove to Nancy Gagnon’s home.
Now she sat rocking the baby Nancy was calling Autumn.
“You look very natural doing that,” Nancy said.
Peyton was seated at Nancy’s kitchen table, holding the baby she’d found two nights earlier.
“I’m rusty,” Peyton said. “My son is seven, and he’s an only child.”
“Looks like you’re ready for another,” Nancy said. She stood at the counter, chopping strip steak into half-inch cubes. Occasionally, she lifted the cutting board, moved to the stainless-steel stove, and used the knife to slide the meat into a pot.
“Your soup smells good,” Peyton said.
“I told your mother I’d send some home with you. Do you want more kids?”
“That’s putting the cart before the horse.”
“You’re not married?”
“Mom hasn’t told you?”
“We just play bridge once a week.”
Peyton tried to guess Nancy Gagnon’s age. She looked closer to her own age than to her mother’s age.
“I’m divorced.”
Nancy just nodded. “There seems to be a lot of interest in little Autumn. I hope we get her real name soon.”
“We’re working on that. She wasn’t born in a Maine hospital, we know that much. Who else has shown an interest in her?”
“That state trooper.”
“Leo Miller?”
Nancy nodded. Classical music played from an iHome atop the granite countertop. “Yes. I find that man offensive. Have you dealt with him?”
Peyton reserved comment.
“But Susan Perry from DHHS is wonderful. I’ve dealt with her before.”
“As a foster parent?” Peyton said.
“Yes. And your people have been great, too, of course. Several Border Patrol agents brought clothing and toys.”
“Has Susan mentioned a timeline?”
“For moving Autumn? No. But I’ve offered to keep her as long as they need me to. Tom sold the grocery store last year, and we’re both home now. Our girls are at Bates for college, so it’s nice to have a baby in the house.”
“Thanks for doing this,” Peyton said. “I’ll try to stop in every few days.”
Peyton had heard leather seats were colder than cloth and fully expected her life to pass without getting a chance to learn the difference. But there she was, just after lunch, sitting in the posh interior of Jeff’s BMW X5; although, the answer to her question would have to wait because his leather seats were heated.
“You really look great, P,” Jeff said. “But be careful not to spill your coffee, okay?”
“Don’t forget Tommy’s soccer game, Jeff. He’s counting on you to be there.”
“Wouldn’t miss it.”
She looked at him and turned away. Maybe she was maturing; she’d held her tongue on two occasions today—Nancy’s mention of Leo Miller and now “wouldn’t miss it” from the man who’d missed nearly half of his son’s life.
Jeff drove from Main Street, where his real-estate agency was located, to Medway Road to see a three-bedroom cape with an attached two-car garage for $185,000. As the luxury SUV glided smoothly over the frost-heaved road, she stole occasional looks at him and thought of the past. She’d never forget how she felt the day he left—alone, in a city so far from home—yet there had been good
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