lights flashing. Dave got in his truck, wiped a layer of sweat with a fast-food napkin, and reapplied deodorant from his gym bag. He changed quickly back into his khakis and drove to Julia’s with the windows down, enjoying the strangely calming effect of the humid August air whipping around him.
# # #
Julia
When Julia got home at midnight, Elizabeth sat cross-legged on the couch, little belly just protruding over her sweatpants, both thumbs typing furiously at her phone. She smiled at Julia, and then looked back at her phone and laughed. “Sorry,” she said. “Some friends are texting me from a bar. It’s pretty ridiculous. How was your evening?”
“Totally exhausting,” Julia said, too tired to put a better face on it than that.
“Oh, right. I forgot you were working.” Elizabeth sounded almost sad. Was it the most pathetic thing in the world that a private preschool mom had to work on her feet for a living?
Julia ignored her paranoia. “How were they tonight? Any problems?”
“Perfect,” Elizabeth said. “We made potholders—they’re all on the table. Brandon did get upset that he couldn’t find his lip balm, but I had some in my purse and he got okay with it after awhile.” She added hastily, “I wiped it off with my finger.”
“Were they up late?”
“Not very. You know Mia; she was out halfway through story time. Lyric whimpered a little bit before nodding off.”
Elizabeth stood and grabbed a lightweight jacket from the arm of the sofa. Julia walked her to the door, digging in her pockets for the cash Caroline had given her at the end of the evening. Dave would pay her back for his portion when he got home.
She had enough for Elizabeth with twelve dollars left over. As she said good night and watched the younger woman get into her car, Julia calculated that she would have barely made enough to cover blister ointment and Band-Aids if they weren’t sharing the babysitting costs. She was glad for the help, but the feeling of being in Dave Bernstein’s debt was unsettling in a way she couldn’t fully articulate.
He came home almost an hour later, at 1:15 in the morning. Julia was dozing on the couch with an old paperback on her lap and some sort of true crime show on television. His soft knock woke her just in time to wipe the drool off her chin before he came in, wiping his feet.
“Hey,” he said. “How’d it go?”
She relayed the conversation with Elizabeth, leaving out the part about the lip balm. His eyebrows shot up when she mentioned Lyric whimpering at bedtime. “Does she do that in strange houses?”
“She hasn’t spent much time away from home overnight,” he said. “Except occasional vacations. And, um, my house, when I first moved. But she adapted pretty well.”
“Don’t you think she’ll settle in after a couple of times in Mia’s room?” Julia tried to hide the desperation in her voice. This had to work out, at least until she could come up with something else.
“Sure,” Dave said. “She’s a tough kid. She’ll be fine.”
“How was it?” Julia glanced at the clock over the television. “It must have gone well.”
He followed her gaze, and then looked back at her, sheepish. “Sorry. Did I keep you up? You don’t have to—I could have a key, or… you could leave it under the mat when you go to bed.”
“Don’t be silly.” She stifled a yawn and walked to the kitchen table. “I’m a night owl.”
“Do you think this is going to be okay for you? I’m not always very good at this stuff, but this feels like it could get…weird. Like I’m talking to my parents after a date.”
She snorted involuntarily. “Wow.”
“My sister, obviously. My younger, way more attractive sister.”
“Overcorrection.” Julia narrowed her eyes. It was sort of funny, watching him squirm. She had only ever seen him confident and blustery. She handed him the pink and white potholder Elizabeth had showed her was Lyric’s.
“Wow. She made these with
# # #
Julia
When Julia got home at midnight, Elizabeth sat cross-legged on the couch, little belly just protruding over her sweatpants, both thumbs typing furiously at her phone. She smiled at Julia, and then looked back at her phone and laughed. “Sorry,” she said. “Some friends are texting me from a bar. It’s pretty ridiculous. How was your evening?”
“Totally exhausting,” Julia said, too tired to put a better face on it than that.
“Oh, right. I forgot you were working.” Elizabeth sounded almost sad. Was it the most pathetic thing in the world that a private preschool mom had to work on her feet for a living?
Julia ignored her paranoia. “How were they tonight? Any problems?”
“Perfect,” Elizabeth said. “We made potholders—they’re all on the table. Brandon did get upset that he couldn’t find his lip balm, but I had some in my purse and he got okay with it after awhile.” She added hastily, “I wiped it off with my finger.”
“Were they up late?”
“Not very. You know Mia; she was out halfway through story time. Lyric whimpered a little bit before nodding off.”
Elizabeth stood and grabbed a lightweight jacket from the arm of the sofa. Julia walked her to the door, digging in her pockets for the cash Caroline had given her at the end of the evening. Dave would pay her back for his portion when he got home.
She had enough for Elizabeth with twelve dollars left over. As she said good night and watched the younger woman get into her car, Julia calculated that she would have barely made enough to cover blister ointment and Band-Aids if they weren’t sharing the babysitting costs. She was glad for the help, but the feeling of being in Dave Bernstein’s debt was unsettling in a way she couldn’t fully articulate.
He came home almost an hour later, at 1:15 in the morning. Julia was dozing on the couch with an old paperback on her lap and some sort of true crime show on television. His soft knock woke her just in time to wipe the drool off her chin before he came in, wiping his feet.
“Hey,” he said. “How’d it go?”
She relayed the conversation with Elizabeth, leaving out the part about the lip balm. His eyebrows shot up when she mentioned Lyric whimpering at bedtime. “Does she do that in strange houses?”
“She hasn’t spent much time away from home overnight,” he said. “Except occasional vacations. And, um, my house, when I first moved. But she adapted pretty well.”
“Don’t you think she’ll settle in after a couple of times in Mia’s room?” Julia tried to hide the desperation in her voice. This had to work out, at least until she could come up with something else.
“Sure,” Dave said. “She’s a tough kid. She’ll be fine.”
“How was it?” Julia glanced at the clock over the television. “It must have gone well.”
He followed her gaze, and then looked back at her, sheepish. “Sorry. Did I keep you up? You don’t have to—I could have a key, or… you could leave it under the mat when you go to bed.”
“Don’t be silly.” She stifled a yawn and walked to the kitchen table. “I’m a night owl.”
“Do you think this is going to be okay for you? I’m not always very good at this stuff, but this feels like it could get…weird. Like I’m talking to my parents after a date.”
She snorted involuntarily. “Wow.”
“My sister, obviously. My younger, way more attractive sister.”
“Overcorrection.” Julia narrowed her eyes. It was sort of funny, watching him squirm. She had only ever seen him confident and blustery. She handed him the pink and white potholder Elizabeth had showed her was Lyric’s.
“Wow. She made these with
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