If life kept moving at this rate . . .
I wouldn’t think about it. Dreading what was coming didn’t change the inevitability of it. It didn’t change the future, but it could lessen the happiness I had in my present.
“Is there anything else I can do for you, Miss Hale?” Jeremy asked after he’d wheeled our suitcases up to the front door and handed me the second key to the car.
Besides Grant Turner in front of me right this moment so I could ask him what the hell he was thinking?
“No, thank you so much.”
I smiled as he walked down the driveway toward the manager’s car, waving good-bye to Charlie. She was still frolicking through the front yard, beelining toward the massive fountain she’d just caught sight of. Unbelievable. A fountain practically the size of a tennis court. I didn’t know why that was what hit me the most when everything else staggered around the estate was just as impressive, but it did. Grant and I had been almost hauled away by the cops one night when we jumped into a public fountain outside of The Clink, and now, he owned one twice the size of that one.
I didn’t hear the door open behind me, but a woman stepped out onto the stoop where I stood, watching my daughter roll the legs up on her overalls once she’d reached the fountain.
“I’m Mrs. Kent, Mr. Turner’s housekeeper.”
“That’s got to be an impossible task.” I smiled at the elderly woman watching Charlie the same way I was—with amusement and delight.
“It certainly was in the beginning, but he’s gotten better.”
I looked at her from the corners of my eyes, remembering Grant’s version of “housekeeping.” It had been putting the dirty dishes around the sink’s general area.
“Well, he uses the hamper now in any case.”
Mrs. Kent’s comment made me laugh, despite being spun for another loop that Grant had a housekeeper. One who had a friendly face and wore an apron that looked starched and everything. I felt like I’d just been dropped off at Wayne Manor instead of Grant’s home.
“Is it okay, Mom?” Charlie shouted, one foot already in the fountain.
My instinct was to shout absolutely—it was an unseasonably warm day and life was short—but I glanced at Mrs. Kent first.
“In my opinion, a fountain like that is for more than just admiring.” She winked at me before grabbing the luggage handles and rolling them in through the doors. “I’ve maybe been known to dip my toes into it a time or two myself.”
After I’d given Charlie the thumbs-up, she didn’t hesitate to finish crawling inside. The fountain came to her knees, but she’d only managed to roll her overalls up to her mid-calf. Instead of worrying about getting her clothes wet, Charlie did Charlie and dropped the rest of the way inside, fully submerging herself. As she did, happy shrieks and splashes echoed across the expansive yard.
She was already making herself at home. She already seemed happy here. As much of a relief as that was, I still had to talk with Grant. About a list of things—the car and him bringing us to live in his house at the top of that list.
As I pulled out my phone, I noticed movement from the next stretch of land over. Neighbors. They were out on their lawn, not trying to be subtle about checking out what was going on next door. The lots of land were big enough that I couldn’t make out what they were looking at exactly, but when I guessed their gaze shifted my way, I made sure to give them a big, overdone wave. They didn’t wave back.
Great. Already making friends with the neighbors who’d just witnessed my daughter splashing around a decorative yard feature in her clothes. Not that I gave a crap what others thought, but it made me realize we wouldn’t be able to keep our presence in Grant’s life a secret for very long. The media had been bad in his hometown; I couldn’t imagine what it would be like up where he lived and played.
It wouldn’t be long before they figured out who I was and who, in turn, Charlie was. It wouldn’t be long before our names would be linked to Grant and judgments would be made and assumptions drawn.
It wouldn’t be long after that before they figured out what was happening to me. Whether it happened through digging the way the media did or people figuring out that my dropping things and stumbling weren’t due to acute clumsiness, it wouldn’t be long before the nation would know what was wrong with me. I had to make sure Charlie heard it from me before she stumbled upon it in a headline.
Thinking about having that conversation made my stomach fold over, but I knew I’d have to tell her. The only reason I hadn’t told her yet was because I wanted her to have as many possible days or weeks or months as a child who didn’t carry the weight of knowing her parent was sick. I wanted her to have as many worry-free moments as I could afford.