From the back seat came the sounds of Sasha’s attempts at speech. Most of it was unintelligible, except for her repeated utterance of the phrase “Da-da.” Yvonne felt the smile tugging at her lips. There was something about listening to the voice of a small child that always filled her with a sense of happiness and peace.
They arrived at Words and Wonder, a small independent bookstore located on the north side of the city. He cut the engine, got out, and walked around the car to open the passenger door for her.
“Thank you.” She climbed down, aided by his hand. “You’re a gentleman, I can see.”
“What can I say? Delphinia Devers would expect no less of her only son.”
This was the first mention he’d made of his mother, but Yvonne thought both the woman and her colorful name sounded formidable.
After he’d gotten Sasha out of the car seat and into his arms, Yvonne followed him inside the bookstore. The warm, welcoming interior bustled with the activity of booksellers and patrons moving around the space. The walls were decorated with framed candid photos of people reading, as well as blown-up covers of classic novels. The shelves, filled with books of all kinds, were placed in a unique zigzag pattern.
“I see a lot of the other parents and kids are already here for story time.” He gestured toward the rear of the store. “The children’s area is in the back.”
She walked with him into the area, taking in the sight of the brightly colored paint and carpet. A small stage centered the space, where the arrangement of the shelves and a few cleverly placed potted plants created a sort of corral for the youngsters. Flat toss pillows in primary colors were lined up on the floor. Several of the spots were already occupied by adults who were either holding young children or monitoring them with a watchful eye as they explored the section. Looking around, Yvonne could see that this was a baby and toddler event; the oldest child present appeared to be about two years old.
Maxwell took a seat, holding Sasha in his lap. She followed suit, settling onto a yellow cushion next to them.
A young woman walked to the stage, settling into the lone chair and holding up a large picture book. After welcoming everyone, she launched into an impassioned reading of the book, much to the delight of the young audience.
Yvonne observed the way Sasha’s face lit up as the story progressed. She even left her father’s lap to crawl closer to the storyteller, taking a seat near the edge of the stage along with some of the other children. Watching her, it was easy to see how much she loved being read to. Yvonne filed that little tidbit of information away for later. Turning to Maxwell, she asked, “You have books for her at home, right?”
He nodded. “Loads of them. My mother buys her books constantly. The whole closet shelf in her nursery is full of them.”
“Great. I can tell she really enjoys a good story.”
“When she’s with me, I try to read to her as often as I can.” A soft smile came over his face as he shifted his gaze back to his daughter.
Seeing the affection on his face touched Yvonne, and she felt a twinge inside. She’d spent most of her life caring for children, but she wondered if it would ever be time for her to have a child of her own. All I know is, if I ever do have a child, I want her father to love her as much as Maxwell loves Sasha.
After the tale ended, story time morphed into playtime as the store employees brought out bins of various age-appropriate toys for the kids to enjoy. Sasha half crawled, half scooted over to a group of tots building a tower out of soft blocks and joined in the construction.
“How often is this story time held?”
“About once a month. I try to bring Sasha as often as my schedule allows.” He gestured to where the baby played. “I feel like she needs this interaction with other kids her age, you know?”
She nodded. “You’re absolutely right. It’s very good that she’s developing social skills and early problem-solving skills as well.” It was yet another example of how good a father he strove to be. “Not a lot of parents think about things like that, especially not fathers.”
“I know. Look around here. There are three mothers to every one father, and that’s pretty typical of what I see when I come to kid-focused events like this.” He scratched his chin. “I wish more fathers, or father figures, would get involved in this kind of thing. They have no idea of the fun and the memories they’re missing out on.”
“That would be wonderful, and it would benefit both the children and the parents.”
“Right. But you know, maybe some of this is just indicative of societal change.” He appeared thoughtful. “Single motherhood is more accepted now than it was in the past. Plus, families look very different now, so there may or may not be a male parent in the picture.” He shrugged. “I don’t think any of that matters, though, as long as the child is getting what they need.”
She blinked a few times, taken aback by his astute observation. It displayed a level of awareness that most people lacked and showed his affinity for intelligent discourse. “What a cogent point, Maxwell.”
“Architecture isn’t my only area of expertise.” He winked.
She melted like ice on a hot sidewalk. She’d never encountered a man like him. Intelligent, self-aware, crazy about his young daughter…and incredibly handsome. Everything about him captivated her, and she sensed that as she got to know him better, her attraction to him would only intensify.
But that simply wouldn’t do. If she were to remain focused on her responsibility to her parents and her dream of opening a childcare center, she couldn’t get involved in a romantic relationship. And even if she could, it wouldn’t be appropriate to do so with a client.
While the tots and their parents enjoyed playtime, she pondered her current situation. I don’t know. Should I go back to Mrs. Cross and ask to be assigned to another client? That probably wouldn’t go over well, since she’d been working for Maxwell for such a short period of time. She could already imagine the agency owner lecturing her about “the Wittenmyer way.” No, asking to be reassigned now would only put her job in danger. Aside from that, she had no guarantee that another client would compensate her as well as Maxwell did.
As she and Maxwell were bundling Sasha up to leave the bookstore, Yvonne’s phone vibrated. Checking the text, she smiled. According to the commercial Realtor she’d asked to help her find a property for her childcare center, an ideal location had just gone on the market.
Typing a quick response that she’d be around to see the property as soon as she could, she pocketed her phone again. That sealed it. There was no way she could give up such a well-paying position now, because it meant potentially missing out on the perfect property for her center.
Buckling his fussy child into the car seat, Maxwell looked her way, his face etched with concern. “You okay?”
She sighed, knowing he must have caught sight of her “thinking face.” Her sister often teased her that when expending a lot of mental effort, her expression became visibly tight. As she endeavored to relax her face, she offered a small smile. “Yes. I’m fine.”
Working with Maxwell presented complexities she never would have anticipated. All she could do now was maintain her professionalism and hope her good sense kept her on the right path.
Chapter 5
Maxwell walked into the house the following evening bone-tired. He’d spent most of his day in meetings with clients, both in person and on the phone. He’d been so tied up with work he’d barely left his desk. Carson had taken pity on him and brought him lunch from a nearby deli around one thirty, and if not for that, he probably wouldn’t have eaten. It was now close to six thirty, and his stomach was growling.
As he passed through the foyer, he sniffed the air, trying to detect what his housekeeper had made him for dinner. She usually cooked him a hot meal, wrapped it, and left it in the oven for him when her shift ended at five. Most evenings, he coul
d expect to find the lingering aroma of whatever she’d made. Tonight, though, he smelled something else.
Baby powder.
Smiling, he hung his coat in the small closet beneath the staircase, stashing his briefcase on the shelf inside. After closing the closet door, he went into the kitchen to check the oven. Inside, he found a foil-wrapped ceramic plate containing a roasted half chicken, brown rice, and spinach sauté. He removed the foil and slid the plate into the microwave.
He heard the sound of Sasha babbling, and it reminded him again of how much his life had changed in the past week. He looked at his plate, rotating inside the microwave, and sighed. He was tired and hungry. But he supposed fathers all over the world came home each day feeling similarly and didn’t let that stop them from greeting their children.
He left the kitchen, making his way to the staircase. As he climbed, he could hear Yvonne speaking in a gentle, lilting voice to Sasha. Following the sound, he went down the hall and stopped outside the nursery.
Yvonne sat on the floor, with her feet tucked beneath her bottom, on the fluffy pink carpet centering the room. Sasha sat there as well, gnawing on a set of plastic baby keys.
Smiling, Yvonne held out a toy purse in Sasha’s direction. Sasha stopped nibbling at the keys and dropped them inside. “Good girl!”
Sasha bounced up and down, her smile bright. “Yay yay yay.”
“Okay. We’ve got our keys. What else do we need to put in our bag?” Yvonne reached down, picking up a wooden block. “Do you want to take this with us, Sasha?”
The baby bounced some more as if to indicate her approval.
Watching the scene, Maxwell smiled. The way Yvonne engaged with Sasha touched and impressed him. Where other nannies might be content to do the bare minimum in taking care of their charges, Yvonne seemed genuinely invested in Sasha.
He entered the room then, and Yvonne turned her smile his way. “Hi, Maxwell.” She reached for Sasha.
The little one scooted away from Yvonne’s hand.
“Don’t want me to pick you up yet, huh?”
Sasha blew a huge raspberry in response.
Yvonne laughed. “Look, Daddy’s home. Say, ‘Hi, Daddy.’”
Sasha bounced up and down on the carpet while looking in Maxwell’s direction. Balling her small fist, she curled and uncurled the fingers. “Da-da. Da-da.”
He walked over, stooped down, and kissed the baby’s soft little forehead. “Hello, there.”
The baby laughed, her small tummy shaking inside the confines of her yellow footie pajamas, emblazoned with pink and purple butterflies.
Yvonne remarked, “You look exhausted. Rough day?”
He sighed. “Rough is an understatement.”
“Have you eaten yet?”
He shook his head.
She eased over to the white wooden rocker and sat down. “Go on downstairs and eat. I’ll look after her.”
“Thank you.” He looked at his daughter’s round, dark eyes once more, then slipped from the room.
As his foot touched the second rung of the stairs, he could hear Yvonne singing. He smiled, knowing her soothing voice and soft delivery of “Beautiful Dreamer” would surely put the baby in a good mood.
Back in the kitchen, he sat down to his meal. The house was mainly quiet, and from this distance, he could no longer hear Yvonne singing. While he savored the well-seasoned food, he contemplated the many changes his life had undergone in less than seventy-two hours. He’d gotten the surprise visit from Bianca on Monday, the same day he’d hired Yvonne and unexpectedly brought the baby home. He’d asked his family to move their usual Wednesday breakfast ahead one day to Thursday. When his mother asked what was so important that he’d want the whole family to rearrange their schedules, he’d simply told them that he wanted to introduce them to someone new in his life. Knowing his mother, she probably thought he was finally bringing home a fiancée, and if he’d been thinking about it, he’d have chosen different wording. He chuckled, wondering how his family would react when they found out who they were actually meeting.
After putting his dishes away, he returned to Sasha’s room. Yvonne was still in the rocking chair, keeping a watchful eye on Sasha while the baby busied herself with a pile of wooden blocks.
Maxwell stepped aside just as his daughter hurled a block in his direction. Chuckling, he retrieved the block from the hall, then sat down on the colorful carpet. “Now, Sasha, we talked about this. Blocks are for building, not projectile weapons.”
Yvonne laughed. “You know it’s normal for her to throw things at this age, right?”
He shrugged. “Maybe so, but somebody’s gotta say something. She almost took out my shin with that thing.”
Yvonne dissolved into giggles.
A smile tugged at his lips as he realized how much he enjoyed the sound and how much he liked knowing he’d contributed to her amusement.
“It’s almost seven. How late are you staying tonight?”
“I wanted to see a little more of Sasha’s day so I can plan accordingly. Would you mind walking me through her usual bedtime routine?”
“No problem.” He stood then and retrieved Sasha, scooping her up from among the sea of brightly colored blocks. “It’s about time for you to get ready for bed, little missy.”
Sasha frowned, then stuck her thumb in her mouth.
He shook his head. “She’s not the biggest fan of bedtime.”
“Most kids aren’t. They’re so convinced they’re going to miss something exciting if they go to sleep.” Yvonne stood. “Just go on about the evening as you normally would. I’m just going to observe.”
“Okay.” He bounced Sasha against his chest. “Ready for bath time?”
Sasha laughed in response.
Shaking his head and not bothering to hide his smile, he carried her out of the room and down the hall to the bathroom. Yvonne walked a few steps behind him.
In the bathroom, he filled the tub with warm water. After testing it to make sure the temperature was right, he undressed his squirming daughter and placed her in the little rubber safety seat in the center of the tub. With a soft cloth and baby wash, he cleaned her up, then stepped back.
Yvonne asked, “Are you done yet?”
He nodded. “Yep. But she loves to splash, so I give her a few extra minutes to play.”
She chuckled. “I see.”
True to form, Sasha spent the next several minutes laughing and splashing, sending torrents of soapy water into the air. He stood back a bit, avoiding the spray as much as he could while still staying close by.
“All right, little lady. I think you’ve sufficiently flooded the bathroom.” Grabbing a brightly colored hooded towel from the wall-mounted cabinet nearby, he lifted Sasha into his arms while simultaneously wrapping her up. With her secured in the cotton cocoon, he carried her back to the nursery.
Laying her on the soft pad atop the changing table, he massaged the baby with lavender baby lotion. “Helps her wind down,” he remarked as he rubbed the lotion into her chubby thighs.
Sasha yawned as he zipped up her small footed pajamas and lifted her into his arms again. “Okay. Now it’s story time.” He went to the stack of books on top of the dresser and chose a picture book.
“Max, would you mind if I read to her?” Yvonne asked. “I think it will go a long way in building rapport with her.”
“Sure.”
“Great.” She gestured toward the rocker. “You sit in the chair with her, and I’ll sit on the floor and read the story.”
Once they were in position, Yvonne held up the book for Sasha to see and read the title aloud. “The People Could Fly.”
As she read through the classic folktale written by Virginia Hamilton, he couldn’t help noticing the way she held Sasha’s attention. Yvonne read expressively and with enthusiasm. The story, w
hich told of enslaved Africans who tapped into a centuries-old power of flight to escape from bondage, was one he’d heard as a child. Listening to Yvonne read it to his daughter awakened many of the same feelings he’d felt as a youngster, hearing the tale from his own mother. He felt the sadness, the helplessness. The wonder, the power, and the delight.
By the time she closed the book, he realized he’d been holding his breath. “Listen, that was amazing. If Sasha wasn’t already drifting off, I’d give you a standing ovation.”
Yvonne smiled. “That’s one of my favorite stories. Still, I try to infuse some excitement into everything I read aloud. It’s how you get kids to be passionate about reading. You have to be passionate yourself.”
He looked at Sasha, who was doing her best to keep her heavy-lidded eyes open. “After a performance like that, you deserve a shot at holding her. Want to try putting her to bed?”
Yvonne stood, nodding. After she returned the book to its place, she gently, slowly lifted Sasha from his arms.
They both waited for a few moments to see how Sasha would react.
Sasha took a deep breath…and yawned.
Yvonne’s grin widened. Holding Sasha close, she tiptoed to the crib and nestled the baby inside it.
Maxwell joined her, and as they both looked on, Sasha yawned once more and finally gave up the fight, her eyes drifting closed. The two of them slipped from the room, and he closed the door softly behind them.
They stood there in awkward silence for a moment or two before he whispered, “I need to ask you for a favor.”
“What do you need?” She sat down on the steps, waiting.
He sat next to her. Being this close to her let him detect the subtle, floral notes of her perfume. The scent, feminine and soft, was a perfect reflection of how Yvonne carried herself. Shaking off that irrelevant observation, he said, “Could you come with me to my parents’ house for breakfast tomorrow morning?”
Never Let Me Go Page 5
