by J. P. Hansen
“Hey, I know you,” Brooke said while placing her hand on the little boy’s shoulder.
He glanced up, stunned, then said, “You’re the nice sandcastle lady.”
Brooke beamed, then said, “Yeah, we kept the sharks out Parker, right?”
“Yes.” All washed up, in his cute little outfit, he looked even more adorable than she remembered.
Betsy stepped in, grinning, and said, “I see you already know Parker. He’s one of my favorites.” Parker beamed.
Brooke waved at the woman in the last remaining vehicle, guessing it was Parker’s mother. She looked so young—and familiar. Brooke frowned, thinking, I don’t remember seeing her face—she was lying on the towel the entire time.
Once inside and settled, Betsy said, “We have a new helper. I want y’all to welcome Miss Ingram.” Brooke noticed the y’all.
In unison, they replied, “Hello, Miss Ingram.”
Brooke smiled at the tender expressions, their bright eyes full of enthusiasm. Glancing around the room, she instantly fell in love with each child. They were her doll collection coming to life. Observing Betsy with the kids ignited Brooke’s maternal instincts. Betsy had a natural gift for compassion; one that Brooke hoped would transfer. She could feel herself evolving to a world where boardrooms and money didn’t matter. All that mattered was helping the dolls in the room. Brooke found her bliss.
Two days later, Brooke signed a one-page contract on good faith and little else.
A note was handed to each child on Friday announcing the news. Betsy didn’t want any fuss, and felt grateful her prayer was answered.
***
I wondered what was going on, Oksana thought as she read the note. Mr. Allman will be sad to see Miss Stanton leave. That’s the last thing he needs to worry about, after I just told him about the new call from Heather. I wonder if she even knows it is her son’s birthday tomorrow.
Later that night, when she thought Parker was out of range, Oksana broke the news to Chase about Angel’s Academy.
“I like Miss Ingram,” Parker’s eyes gleamed as he ran over.
“That’s good to hear champ. We’ll have to say a special prayer for Miss Stanton. That reminds me. You’ve got a big day tomorrow. Time for bed.”
***
“Can we do that ride again?” Parker’s enthusiasm made everyone smile. He loved every moment of his birthday party; he rode every ride he could, usually with either his dad or Oksana—so he wouldn’t upset his friends, who all wanted to ride with the birthday boy.
While Parker dragged Oksana into the famous Fun House for the second time, Mary strolled up to Chase, and said, “What do you think of the changes at Angel’s Academy?”
“Parker seems to like his new teacher. I’m glad, but it’ll be hard to fill Betsy’s shoes.”
Mary contemplated her response, then said, “I don’t know anything about this new owner. She looks so fresh and pink—and she has no experience.”
“I had a suspicion Betsy was sick. I don’t get over there enough, but the last time, she didn’t look good. I’m going to call and wish her well and try to get the lowdown. If Betsy picked the new owner, I’m sure she’ll do just fine.”
***
After finishing the thirteen mile Race for the Cure, Brooke began week two with relaxed confidence. She had already read the books she bought on owning a preschool. In addition, Brooke interviewed every mother she could—including complete strangers. She soaked in all the information like a child.
Brooke’s favorite part of the job was reading the stories at the end of the day. Her new life blossomed. In two short weeks, Brooke felt like a seasoned professional. Even though the contract was signed and the check had cleared, Betsy still visited each day. Betsy released the reigns, staying in the background like a safety net.
At the end of the week, with two hours to go, Betsy strode up to Brooke during the end of the kids’ reflection time, wrapped her warm arm around her, and said, “You are doing great. I feel like I’m just getting in the way. I’d wish you good luck, but I can tell you won’t need it. I’ll be here if I can help you in any way.”
Just like Brooke’s track days, Betsy passed the baton, and Brooke seized it, happy for the chance to prove herself. This race had meaning.
***
“Hold still.” Duke’s ears flinched and then he froze.
Hearing the beep, Chase left a message, “Max, it’s Chase. Listen, I don’t want to be a pest, but, she tried calling again…I hope you’ve had some luck…Call me if you locate her.”
Chase released Duke’s chain, then raced him toward Parker, playing on the monkey bars. Chase led out of the gate, but Duke loped by his owner with ease. Pulling up to a giggling Parker, Chase’s lungs felt like they were filled with napalm while Duke looked ready for more.
“Duke beat you.”
“He’s……so……fast.”
“I’ll race you,” Parker swung off the metal ladder and landed beside his father; he balled his fists in the ready stance.
Chase chuckled, “Not right now, buddy. Duke tired me out. How’s school?”
“Miss Ingram’s nice.”
“Nicer than Miss Stanton?”
Parker nodded in an exaggerated motion with wide eyes.
“That’s good. How is she different?”
“She tells stories about sharks and dragons and she’s pretty like mommy.”
Chase winced; Parker’s innocent statement struck Chase, now bracing for the follow up question. I bet Parker heard Oksana talking the other day. Funny, he never mentioned Heather during his entire birthday, including bedtime—when kids thought such things. I wish she’d quit bugging poor Oksana. Why did I ever get married?
Chase glanced at Parker and smiled, “C’mon, you ready to race?”
Parker pointed, “First one to the sidewalk.”
“You’re on.”
Parker said, “ReadySetGo,” then took off. Chase laughed, affecting his strength like kryptonite. He finally caught up to Parker, which prompted a determined look that made Chase laugh again. Parker won.
Chase’s grin made his ears pop. His son’s gleeful celebration was better than Olympic gold. He thought, I wish I could spend more time with him—he’s growing up so fast. Maybe, I’ll surprise him next week.
***
“You look great, what are you talking about?”
“I’m fat and you know it, miss ant-sized jeans.” Melissa poked her fork at her salad.
“You’re supposed to gain weight. It’s healthy.” Brooke figured Melissa wouldn’t budge, but she couldn’t agree and make her feel worse.
“Eddie thinks I’m fat.”
“What!” Brooke’s eyes swirled in a blaze, “Does he call you fat?”
“Not exactly…But, he doesn’t touch me the same way as before.”
“He’s probably afraid of hurting the baby. I read that in one of my books. Eddie actually told me he loved your glow.”
“When?” Melissa furrowed her brows.
“The other day, remember when he answered your cell?”
“He said that?”
“You look good. Relax, your hormones are raging.”
Melissa clasped her stomach, sighed, then said, “I heard Betsy Stanton was impressed with you. Tell me about your new career?”
“Oh my God, Betsy has a glow too—like Mother Teresa. She’s taught me so much. It’s hard to motivate kids to look forward to school, but she’s amazing. I feel reborn. Those kids are so cute. You’re a lifesaver, once again. Please tell your mother how grateful I am.”
“Can you make any money in the preschool business?”
“You sound like my daddy…” They both shared a hearty laugh that made the neighboring tables stop and stare. Brooke ignored them, and edged closer, “Betsy had a great manager who has agreed to stay for all that nasty record keeping. I’m going to finally apply my minor degree in Child Psychology. And this is going to sound strange, but I’m not doing it for th
e money. I’d do this job for free. It’s hard to explain, but I feel such love and warmth for those kids, as if they’re my own.”
“Wow. Most people in daycare say the opposite.”
“We don’t call it ‘daycare.’ Betsy created the concept of a ‘learning center.’ And that’s exactly what it is.”
“That’s a stretch. Aren’t they just three year olds?”
“Three and four, but I really feel like I’m making a difference in those kids. They soak in everything like sponges. There’s one little boy who’s adorable—I could take him home with me.”
***
With the kids in the beginning of their reflection time, Brooke had pulled Marsha aside, and said, “I have to run to the insurance office and sign some documents. It shouldn’t take more than a half hour. Can you cover for me until I return?”
Marsha smiled and said, “Take your time. I love reading stories and have a good one in mind. We’ll be fine.”
“Thanks, I’m so thrilled to have you.” Marsha’s eyes said ditto.
“The secret of success is to make your vocation your vacation.” Brooke had heard the Twain quote before, but now, she understood what it meant. She felt alive. Her nightmares had dissipated and, even though Tanner still visited her in her sleep, the dreams were now peaceful.
At the end of her third week—Friday the thirteenth—she hit her groove. Usually a bit superstitious, today, Brooke felt better than a vacation. Surfing on a wave of gratitude, she picked up her cell.
“So, how’s it going?” Shane’s zeal was better than coffee—even a quad espresso.
“I can’t believe how much I love it. I have amazing kids who ask some off the wall questions. I have to be more alert around three year olds than I ever had to be in the business world.”
“Sounds like you really made a fresh start. What do the kids call you?”
“Miss Ingram.”
“Awesome.”
“It took a short while to get used to, but I have to say you were right, as always. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“That’s what I love about you. You award me credit, even though you did it all yourself.”
Hanging up with Shane, Brooke smiled as she climbed into her car.
Brooke punched the address into GPS, and waited as it searched for a signal. Aren’t satellites like cell phones? These things take more time than a laptop. After three minutes that seemed like thirty, Brooke sped off just as a black squirrel darted in front of her car. She slammed her brakes and felt a thump under her tire. “Oh man, poor little guy.” As she opened her car door, the spooked critter scurried away.
Brooke drove on like she was in a scary movie with one of those leave-you-hanging endings. So far, no roadside black cats running in front of the car or giant ladders to drive under. Not concentrating on the road, she missed the speed bump sign as her car heaved like a bucking bronco, then landed with a crack and a thud. She pulled to the curb and stopped.
That was a friggin’ huge speed bump.
Brooke opened her door and surveyed the front—bumper intact, nothing leaking. She climbed back into her car. Pulling away, her car pulled. Now what?
With images of a black cat, she jumped out. And noticed something worse—a black flat. Her rear passenger tire was deflated down to the rim. “Oh shit.”
Brooke surveyed the deserted block, and stormed to the passenger side door just as her heel caught and she smacked face first into the grass. She froze, and did a quick mental body scan. Realizing her pain was only emotional, she slowly stood while gripping the door handle. Her ankles felt fine, but her leg was smeared—
Brooke’s eyes bulged as it registered: “Gross. Dog shit! Why can’t people pick up after their damn dogs!”
Brooke dialed Shane, who laughed so hard he couldn’t speak. Brooke chuckled—quite a bit less than Shane—and said, “Only you can cheer me up even though I’m covered with dog shit.”
“I’m afraid comic relief is all I can do for you right now. I can’t change a flat telepathically.”
Brooke popped the hood, put on her hazard lights, and listened to Shane’s instructions. She didn’t even know she had a spare tire, and, frowning at her dress, wondered if he could talk her through changing it. On her knees, trying to force the lug wrench onto the first bolt, she heard a snap as pain shot up her hand.
“Shit.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I just bent my nail all the way back.”
Brooke growled as Shane attempted to calm her. She surveyed the ground, knelt back down and struggled to remove the remaining bolts.
“I can scratch mechanic off my list,” Brooke wiped her brow with the back of her hand, not realizing she decorated her forehead with war paint.
Shane chuckled, “You didn’t tell me that was on your Bliss List.”
“Ha Ha.”
Forty minutes later, Brooke successfully changed her first flat tire. “Thank you Shane. You’re a life…” She glanced at her cell and noticed it was dead. “Oh great. Shit!” I guess I can’t meet the insurance agent like this.
Brooke pulled into a grocery store lot and carefully positioned her baby tire two feet from the curb under a No Parking sign. She flipped on her hazards and darted inside. A guy in a smock stocking bananas did a double take at her, then said, “The bathroom’s in the back, by the meat counter.”
Brooke lurched like an NFL running back around gawking onlookers. Once inside the bathroom, she flipped on the light and shrieked, “Oh nice, I look scary.”
I’m lucky they didn’t call a battered women’s shelter.
The liquid soap only spread the grease. After using the entire roll of paper towels and most of the toilet paper, she finally recognized herself. Even though she triple washed her knee, she still felt a weird sensation—like an amputee with a recently removed limb.
Dang, I’ll miss the kids’ send off again. Thank God Marsha’s there.
On the return walk, Mister Smock smirked, then nodded. Brooke coasted to Angel’s Academy with the hazards still flashing.
Chapter 19
“Thank God you’re here!”
Brooke ignored Marsha’s teary eyes, and with her eyes popping, she gasped, “YOU! What the…?”
His head craned as if trying to crack it. With furrowed brows, Chase said, “Me? Why are you here?”
Brooke glanced at Marsha, whose tears streamed across her quivering lips, then back at Chase.
Chase said, “Unless you’re here to help me find my son, quit stalking me.”
Brooke’s eyes narrowed, “What are you talking about? And, what are you doing to my employee in front of my business?”
“Your business?” Chase shook his head, then glanced at Marsha, who nodded, but still couldn’t speak. He glared at Brooke, then said, “Yes, Parker is gone…Since when do you own this place?”
“I just bought it—that’s not important. Where’s Parker? What happened?”
“My son has been kidnapped,” Chase glared back at Marsha, and barked, “Where is Miss Ingram?”
Brooke stood stock straight, “I’m Miss Ingram.”
“What?”
“I’m Brooke Ingram, and unless you tell me what the hell’s going on,, I’m calling 911.”
Chase gulped, then closed his eyes, hands running up and down his head. His eyes met Brooke’s, and through tight lips, “My son Parker has been kidnapped—”
“Your son is Parker?” Brooke’s knees wobbled.
“Yes, and I was supposed to pick him up. Usually Oksana—his nanny—picks him up, but I was going to surprise him. His mother, who…” Chase paused, glimpsed to the right, then continued, “Let’s just say his mother is dangerous and is not allowed to see him without my permission.”
Brooke opened her cell and said, “I’m calling 911.”
Chase lunged and snapped the phone shut, “No!”
Marsha raised one eyebrow and tilted her head. Chase pleaded, “No, seriously, it’s co
mplicated.”
“It’s not complicated to me. Parker’s missing, you say he’s kidnapped by a dangerous…whoever she is…I have to call the police.”
“I, I don’t think Parker’s in grave danger,” Chase touched his nose, “This is a domestic dispute. I, um, I need to talk to my lawyer before we call the cops. Please don’t call the police.” Chase imagined the headlines staring Henry in the face—right before next week’s board meeting; Brooke pictured different headlines, ending her new life before the one month mark. She thought, Shit, am I even insured?
“I need to document this incident,” Brooke avoided the word liability—especially to a lawyer, “Marsha, what happened?”
“I was reading the kids a story when Rache’s grandmother entered with a much younger, well-dressed lady. Rache peered at me and I nodded. Parker said, ‘Mommy’ and ran to the pretty woman’s outstretched arms. I went back to Snow White since we had a half hour left until pick up. I just assumed…” She sobbed.
Chase frowned, and said, “Marsha, you knew only Oksana and I were authorized to pick up Parker.”
Marsha fidgeted, then said, “I forgot, Mr. Allman. I was on my own for a little while.”
“You’re not blaming Marsha?” Brooke grimaced.
Chase said, “I know I told Betsy that only Oksana and I—”
“Who’s Oksana?” Brooke cut in.
“Oksana is Parker’s nanny. Haven’t you met her? What kind of place—”
“Hold on mister,” Brooke wrapped her arms across her chest, “I just bought the place. If parents haven’t introduced themselves to me, I wouldn’t know who’s who yet. I supervise each child’s arrival and departure with Marsha.”
“Not today…” Chase flashed a condescending scowl.
“No, I, I’m sorry, I wasn’t here, I had uh, an appointment…”
“All I want to do is find Parker as quickly and quietly as possible.” Chase marched toward his BMW.
Brooke said, “I’m coming along.”
