Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58397 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 292(@200wpm)___ 234(@250wpm)___ 195(@300wpm)
“Morning, boss.” He took care of the luggage while I got in the car and pulled out my phone.
I was still unfamiliar with keeping track of my own schedule, but I’d have a six-hour flight to sort through all the meetings I had this week. Hopefully, our West Coast people would shed some light on the problems we were facing here in Boston and at our other East Coast locations.
Four years in a row, our hotels out here had received slightly worse ratings than the previous year. We didn’t know why, although I had my suspicions, and I had sent several teams to figure out the issues—to no avail. This time, I was going myself, starting with the West Coast, where Westwater remained a popular choice for business travelers and continuously received good ratings.
A moment later, a scream filled the car as Cathryn arrived with Julia.
“She says she’s hungry,” Cathryn told me.
“Perhaps she shouldn’t have thrown her breakfast on the floor,” I muttered, sending a quick email before pocketing my phone. I sighed and watched Julia struggle against Cathryn, who buckled her into her booster seat. “She wanted toast for breakfast, so I made her that. Then she changed her mind and wanted oatmeal.” Mainly because she loved applesauce, which I put in her oatmeal. “That resulted in a tantrum,” I went on. “In the end, she ate a yogurt cup while I mopped the floor.”
“Sounds to me like you’re testing your father’s limits, sweetie.” Cathryn touched Julia’s cheek, wiping away her tears.
I lifted a brow. “Testing them? She’s driving a pink bulldozer all over them.”
Cathryn let out a laugh.
“Let’s call these three for interviews when we get back to Boston.” I placed the three resumés on the hallway table in our hotel suite for Cathryn. “They’re the best of the worst.”
“Good grief,” Cathryn decreed. “Remind me why I let you recruit me to be a traveling babysitter?”
“I believe a substantial raise played a part,” I replied, adjusting my tie, and she nodded and tapped her nose. I mustered a smirk. “I’ll see you tonight.”
Soon, I was back in the car downstairs, and I felt marginally refreshed after my shower.
It was the second year Cathryn had played nanny for Julia when I was on the road, and with a bit of luck, I’d steal her away next year too. Back home, things were different. She worked part time in HR with the company and only a couple hours a day for me personally.
I sat back in the town car and glimpsed the last of the Seattle lunch rush outside the window.
Wanting to relax for a moment before my first meeting, I asked Mathis to turn on the radio. It would help keep my work-related headache at bay.
“…and with us today, we have our own Peyton Scott, a hotel manager here in Seattle. Welcome to MommyTalk, Peyton.”
I snorted under my breath. Perhaps a radio talk show about parenting could tell me what I was doing wrong. And why I didn’t have the same stories to share as all the parents online. I may have stayed up several nights, scouring the internet for help. All I got were these sickeningly sweet tales of how amazing their children were, how adorable they were as they developed, and how funny they were when they got into trouble.
I wasn’t laughing.
A masculine voice replied, letting me know Peyton probably wasn’t a mommy. “Thank you. It feels good to be on a show that isn’t constantly on the verge of being shut down due to declining listeners.”
The female host laughed. “That’s right, Peyton is part of the WX family and hosts his own show here on Channel 8 called Throwback, and it airs every Thursday at ten PM,” she said. “If you like history, make sure to tune in.” She paused. “So, as mentioned before, Father’s Day is coming up in a couple weeks, and that’s why we’re switching it up a little throughout May. Instead of listening to us mommies, we want to give the floor to all the wonderful daddies out there. In this case, it’s a brother. You single-handedly raised your younger sister, Peyton. You were only nineteen when you got custody. That must’ve been difficult but rewarding.”
“Still waiting for the reward,” Peyton joked. My mouth twitched. “But yeah, for a few years. Anna was a year old when I started taking care of her, and I was all she had until she turned seven.”
“That’s amazing,” the woman gushed. “How old is Anna now?”
“She’s fifteen.”
That made Peyton thirty-three. I couldn’t help but wonder where the mother and fath—
“Boss, would you like me to change—”
“Shh! No. Thank you.” My pulse spiked at my own outburst, and I had to take a breath. Christ.
It was just a radio show. No reason to get dramatic.
“…but to be honest, it was freaking hard,” Peyton was saying. “I was understandably clueless about children, and Anna was a demon. I don’t think I went to work a single time those first two or three years without a food stain on my clothes. Most days, I was fumbling in the dark and just doing my best. There were a lot of downs before I had any ups.”