by Anne Eliot
The baby blinks back at me and kicks her legs.
“How about, even though it’s obvious, we guess that your name is…Ginger?” I shake my head, smiling. “Thessa? Tanya? Sonia? Lana? Michelle, Jennie? Mimi,” I chatter on, feeling the heat leave my cheeks as I sketch more of the contours of her round, rosy face. When I pencil in the whispers of her nearly invisible brows, as well as the lines of her perfect rosebud mouth, I wonder more and more about this baby’s mother. The baby’s features are so soft and round compared to Royce’s sharp angles. Sketching on, I try other names. “Ashleigh? With those big blue shockers, how about…Kayla? Danielle? Leah? Ali—Allison—Emily? Mandy? Judy? I know, Lisa! Neilli?”
Frustrated, I stare down at my sketch, already knowing that none of these names fit this baby. The baby burps so loudly she stills her legs, and we both blink at each other in surprise again.
“Right? That about says it all.”
The baby giggle-gurgles and smiles her response.
“Aww. So, you do forgive me, sweetie? You believe it was only a momentary slip, and that I will keep my promise to do better?” I rub her little tummy and smile back at her. “Well then, let’s make a little list of some real and wholesome goals for me to focus on, shall we?”
I roll her gently onto her tummy and scoot some toys within her reach, then settle in next to her with my composition book. I turn the page in the sketch book to one that’s blank. “Let’s call this list What a real family needs. Or how about…Robin and Sage need a miracle?”
I pause to help the baby latch her little hand on to a soft rattle and guide it to her mouth so she can gnaw on it, and I turn back to my list. “First. Let’s talk about the money.”
I write: Ten. Thousand. Dollars.
“It’s so much money, isn’t it? But hey, that’s what they offered. When you’re down to your last four bucks and have a broken car, well, that offer was like a dream.” I blink down at the huge number, adding in a few more lines under it, then, scribble some calculations. “With Mrs. Perino asking five hundred dollars per month for the cottage, and waiving the damage deposits we’d have to put down anywhere else, we’re doing pretty good.”
“There,” I whisper, staring at the page. “If we’re careful, and even if Mrs. Hildebrandt doesn’t come through with a job like she promised, we could float on the remaining nanny pay for a good three months. But let’s assume I’ve got the job. What would be next? We have a great kitchen table, couches and beds already, so we only need cozy things to make it ours. Soft blankets, towels, some kitchen stuff, and of course internet. Can we afford Amazon Prime?” I add a few more lines. “With the way we consume music, movies books and audio books, we have to try.” I draw a line through the word cable-TV and tell the baby, “No cable, only Prime.”
I squint at the list. “What’s missing? Oops. The survival-type things. Water.” I write. “Electricity, gas and heat.” I write those down, too. “Is paying for gas and electricity the same thing as paying for heat?” I hold the pen in the air. “Hmm, I have no idea. Yet. No idea, yet. But I will. The whole planet of real adults figures this stuff out and pays it all off every month, so how hard could it be to learn it? I will simply guess that all of that stuff will cost 2k to set up and then about 1k a month to maintain, and I know that number will be more in the winter when it’s cooler.”
I feel my chest tightening with anxiety and a stupid wave of self-pity is threatening to take over. To push all of my fears away, I write my brother’s name down and stare at it, because he’s the reason we’re doing all of this. His name helps.
“What, after a house, internet, and soft sheets, would Sage need the most,” I whisper.
The baby gurgles like she’s helping me. “Oh. Yes. Thank you for the reminder. Food. Nonstop, food.”
I write: Food — figure costs out later.
“Last item for Sage is...school. Once we get him signed up, he needs clothes and supplies. And a haircut. New sneakers, probably. But we don’t have to worry about that for another month. I just need to figure out which school is closest to the Perino’s house and I guess get him registered and then I could ask if there’s any help for…single parents.” I chew my bottom lip, thinking of how our father filled out all of these forms online each year for us at our old school.
I pause to write: KNOW MORE. FIGURE OUT SCHOOL. LEARN FAST. Then I sit up and smile. “See? It always helps to write things down. It’s only a few simple things. A tiny list of achievable, real goals.”
I help the baby turn on her side and stretch back out so we are face to face. I take up her tiny hand and let her wrap it around my finger. “You’re so cute.” I blink at her and she blinks back, kicking her little legs, and sucking on her little fist like she’s getting hungry. “I just bet your daddy is looking at the photos I left of you and falling in love so hard right now.” I rub her tiny feet. “Oh, yes he is. Isn’t he?” I say in my baby-nonsense voice. “No wonder adults are cranky and worry about insurance and boring stuff all the time. This is hard. Oh, gosh. Insurance. I need to figure that out too.”
I sit up and write health insurance and car insurance at the bottom of my list, sighing heavily, then compare my list to what Joanie said the social services people would ask of me. “If I can secure all of this right after my birthday, and get an appointment with a judge, I will be a perfect example of what a stabilized, responsible, and proper adult-parent needs to look like for taking care of a kid brother. Because that’s me. Stabilized. Responsible. Proper. Not counting today, of course.”
The baby starts to fuss, so I shove the composition book next to the sketchbook on the lower shelf of the changing table and scoop up the baby into a little cuddle, breathing in that soapy, clean smell of hers that I love—only suddenly she’s not so clean smelling.
“You little stinky. What have you done?” I sigh, scanning her little snap-up outfit, then laugh at her little responding smile and stand with her in my arms. “Once we fix this diaper, we’re going to get you a bottle, wheel out the stroller, and make a break for it so you can eat outside and maybe nap next to the pool. We can cower in the cabana until I’m off work—because that’s what all stabilized and proper adults would do after they’ve shamed themselves by kissing boss-rockstars in closets. They hide.”
Chapter 31
I’m pushing the baby in the stroller out into the hallway that leads to the main living area when both Mrs. Felix and Gregory appear out of nowhere. Mrs. Felix is not in the old-fashioned foldable wheelchair I’m used to; rather she’s sitting in this zippy red powered wheelchair, and she’s making a beeline for me. At first I panic, because I have this paranoid idea that they know what I’ve done and they’ve come to tell me to leave.
Which they should. Oh. God. I suck. I deserve to be fired.
“Robin, darling. There you are. Oh, please let me have a look at that baby. I’ve missed seeing you these past days.”
“Of course. Hello. I’ve missed you, too.” I relax a little, because the sound of her voice is so bright, open and welcoming that I figure there’s no way they could know. “I was about to lap the baby around the pool so she could have some fresh air.”
“A wonderful idea. Maybe we’ll join you. Test out my new wheels. What do you think?” She spins expertly in a half-circle, then back.
“It’s the most gorgeous ride I’ve seen in a long time. About as nice as the fancy new stroller.”
I nod as Gregory smiles his own greeting. I try to return the smile, but my guilt makes me unable to look at either of them directly.
“How are things going?” Gregory asks.
“I— great.” I tuck the soft cashmere sweater I took from Royce’s closet around the baby’s head, hoping I won’t have to lie to them too much. “Today feels…long.”
“Any specific reason?” Mrs. Felix asks.
“I know the reason. Babies make every day feel long,” Gregory jokes, saving me from answering.
“Babies will do that to a person. N
o matter how adorable.” Mrs. Felix drives closer to the stroller. “I apologize that we’ve been so busy with attorneys and meetings that we’ve hardly had time to think about your schedule or to talk to you during your workdays, dear, but please know your calming, reliable presence is appreciated by all. We shall make amends for how exhausted you must feel.”
“Oh, thanks. Everyone’s been so nice.”
“I heard from Vere you’ve got a scholarship to Ridley on hold, no less. I’m a patron of that school. What a wonderful thing that you’re an artist.”
“I...just dabble,” I answer, staring at the stroller handles.
“That school doesn’t hand out scholarships to mere dabblers. Tsk. Tsk. Such a humble one, you are. One day, I hope you will show me some of your work? When you’re in residence there, you will find out that the school backs to the Orb Hotel, New York City. It’s my favorite residence. You shall have to stop by sometimes to say hello. Say you will.”
I feel the back of my neck heating at their scrutiny. “That’s what Vere said. One day when I’m there, of course I’ll come over, if you invite me,” I answer vaguely.
“Royce says you’ve set up the nursery so well.” Gregory steps up to also smile down at the baby. “Thank you for being so self-sufficient. They seem to adore you. Quite a feat, because that bunch never agrees on anything or anyone. As a group, they all do seem to agree that you are invaluable to us now, and that they adore you.”
“As do we,” finishes Mrs. Felix.
“It’s been an easy job.” I motion to the stroller. “Easy baby.”
“This attorney-hopping has done us no good.” Mrs. Felix shakes her head. “We still have nothing to go on. Nothing, and now Royce has announced to us a few minutes ago that the girl—the baby’s mother—has promised to show back up sometime this weekend. We’re supposed to be ready, whatever that means.” She half laughs. “So inconvenient of her to create such chaos. She’d better have a good explanation for this, that’s for sure.”
“The baby’s mom. The real mom?” I ask, feeling even worse than I did before. “That’s good. Is Royce sure it’s her?” My chest twists with worry then twists all over again with more guilt.
Oh, God. I need to get out of here before she shows up.
“We have no idea.” Gregory shakes his head. “Royce is going off one fan email that came through a few minutes ago. See, when the baby appeared, we alerted our publicity group that we would take back over our fan email and Instagram communications—something that’s usually handled by their firm. For days, Royce and Hunter have been staying up all night long while on their ‘baby shifts’ to read and answer each one. That’s why you haven’t seen Hunter at all, and why Royce, our resident control-freak, has been so strung out. He thinks he’s strong enough to pull double shifts, as does Adam. I had to lie to the PR people, saying that the guys were bored down here in Florida and wanted to reconnect with the fans by responding personally to all social media for a couple of weeks. Every day I make it sound like they’re having ‘such fun’, but of course none of this has been fun, as you well know.”
I laugh a little at that. “You must be relieved it’s almost over, then?”
Mrs. Felix almost rolls her eyes like a teenager. “Over? With us, nothing’s ever really over. A new plan is always just beginning, dear. Haven’t you learned that about us yet?” She laughs then. “You met all of us after the baby bomb dropped, so you must have a very skewed idea of who we are. Do you know I hardly ever cry? Yet I do believe, I cried on you that first day more than I’ve ever cried in my entire life in front of a stranger. And Adam…well, I heard about his unfortunate event with all of that vodka.”
“Crown Royal, Mother. That’s a whiskey.”
She pulls a face. “Either way, it’s terrible he runs off how he does. Like our Royce, Adam hardly drinks at all. And Hunter, he’s not one to hide in his room all the time, he’s actually very social, but he’s trying to stay on track with the songwriting as well as some of the other band business that no one else can do while we all fall apart and juggle the baby. Hunter’s probably the most exhausted by all of this. Poor Vere’s been left to her own devices, but she’s loved spending time with you. And then there’s Royce. Stomping around, grumbling and worrying over everyone.” She shakes her head. “Yes, what you must think of all of us.” She sighs, still smiling but suddenly she seems more tired than she should.
“I think you’re all wonderful. And I think chaos is kind of fun. I also think we should all look forward to meeting the baby’s mother, if in fact, it’s really her.” It’s the only honest thing I can think of to say to her. “What did the fan email say?”
She waves her hand in the air. “It said things like her apology. How she’s thankful to us all for keeping the baby safe and out of the press. How she’ll send an ETA as soon as she knows more about her arrival. That kind of stuff.”
Gregory nods. “It could be fake, or it could be someone fishing for a reply. It could also mean the hotel staff finally leaked there was a baby up here, and there is not a sick mom with the flu locked up in quarantine, who is also the baby’s mother in any of these rooms. It could be anyone and anything, or nothing at all. For now, the plan is not to reply. We shall simply wait to see if she will appear.”
“Which is why we came down to find you. Our plans change fast. In case this girl does not show up, we’d like to ask if you could possibly work this weekend? Work Saturday and Sunday, and maybe even come with us to the Friday night show for tomorrow? We think we’d like to have extra support in case things get hectic and we’d need an extra pair of hands, hands that the baby trusts to help out. We don’t know what to expect, so we want to all rally and have the whole family-unit together o keep the stress on the baby to a minimum.”
“Sure, only…tomorrow was my day off and it’s also my birthday.” I push-and-pull the stroller back and forth because the baby is stirring. “Mrs. Perino’s having a party for me, but it should be over early because my only friends here in Orlando are all under age ten.” I wink. “My little brother, Mrs. Perino’s two nieces, Anna and Julia, plus all of their little friends are coming over dressed up like princess-brides to celebrate with me. I could come right after it’s over.” I feel my cheeks fire because I told them all of that that. “The themed party was their idea, of course.”
“Of course, and how sweet.” Mrs. Felix’s laugh is delighted like she thinks it’s a perfect birthday party.
Loving her for not judging me, I tell her more, “It’s starting late afternoon. They’ve chosen a special gold ring shaped piñata which they found in The Lord of the Rings party section. They think it’s a really beautiful wedding ring, which will be the centerpiece to how they’re decorating the whole garden to look like it’s the setting of some fabulous glitter-dream-wedding.”
“Oh how adorable. I do love little girls at birthday parties.” Mrs. Felix claps her hands.
“Poor Angel and Sage.” I grin. “There will be twelve of us princesses and only the two of them to act as the handsome princes. It’s going to be so awkward.” I laugh, thinking of their impending torture.
Mrs. Felix laughs along with me. “As long as you think it will be over in time for the concert should we need you. I’d hate to ruin this amazing party.”
“It will be.”
“Can we also count on you for Saturday and Sunday all day, though? Just in case?”
“Of course.”
“You shall be compensated extra for going into the second week.” Gregory smiles, as I nod, wishing I had the courage to ask him to pay me now for the first week, even though it’s not quite over, so I can take the money, run out of here and never come back.
But…of course that’s not the adult way to handle all of what I just did.
And damn it, I’m going to be an adult going forward, even if it kills me.
“Our chauffeur tells us that you all live on a little farm? I’ve spoken about it some with Mrs. Perino. She says it’s
beautiful,” Gregory says, shifting his feet like he’s uncomfortable. “When I spoke to Mrs. Perino to order more pastries today, she…uh…also invited us to your party. Would it be a terrible intrusion if we came?”
‘Oh. Sure.” I smile. “Only if you want to come. Please don’t feel obligated. Did you not hear the part where you’d have to dress up in costumes? You will be prince number three and expected to waltz. No slacking.”
Gregory looks even more uncomfortable as he says, “I’m not even going to lie, Robin. I’ve had such a crush on Mrs. Perino’s voice since the first time she and I spoke.” Suddenly he flushes. “So, if you think she and I could possibly hit it off, I…well…of course, I shouldn’t play anything forward, but do you think if I came to your party, I could convince her to go out with me? On a date? If so, then I’d dress up in any costume you tell me to and dance any dance you ordered.”
“Oh…wow. Yes! That’s so cute.” I bite back a small laugh and cover it with a bunch of encouraging nods, because Gregory looks more embarrassed than a middle school kid asking a girl to a dance. “You should come. You must come. I know you two will hit it off.”
He whispers, “Is she, I mean, do you think she might be a little too out of my league? Does she already have a boyfriend? She is European and an accomplished chef who speaks two languages while I’m only retired US Army. Tell me honestly, and tell me now if she’s going to shoot me down if I ask her out. Please.”
I take in Gregory’s suit, his salt-and-pepper hair, and his kind yet stoic face. “You’re both from different worlds, to be sure, but I think you’d match. You’re also right up there in the silver-fox category.”
“A silver-what?”
“That means you’re handsome, Gregory,” Mrs. Felix nods knowingly. “We shall wear our best costumes, Robin. And, thank you, dear. I’m actually really looking forward to this party now. I love dress-up parties.”
