Total pages in book: 176
Estimated words: 167940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 840(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 167940 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 840(@200wpm)___ 672(@250wpm)___ 560(@300wpm)
“Can you get another job? Maybe something in the evening?”
“Not with Lulu at home. I mean, Ethan offered me a yoga class to run, but I couldn’t at the time, but now I have a babysitter.”
“And he’s found someone else for the class now.”
She nods, and I give a tight shrug. “I’d hoped I’d put all this behind me in my twenties.”
“Unexpected expenses?” she asks, amused.
“No, working my bum off to keep my head above water.”
“Well, if it helps, my brother runs a cocktail bar on the East side, and he’s looking for someone to fill in for a week coming up soon. You’ll be living over that way then.”
“Oh.” I begin to chew my lip as I consider the opportunity and how I’d manage it. I’ve been keeping an eye out for something since babysitting was no longer an issue, hoping to find an early morning yoga class or two to lead. But this might just work. Sophia lives on the other side of the city, but maybe she could stay over or something. “I have worked as a waitress and behind a bar, but that was back in France.” Before Rose. Before Lulu.
“You’d be perfect. This is one of those French bistro-style places. Food and liquor. Upscale and with a friendly, regular crowd. He never has any problem with his staff. They love working there, but one of the girls is going back to North Carolina. I mean, it’s only a week. Maybe ten days? I can give you his phone number if you think it might help.”
“Thanks, Marta. It’s definitely something to think about.”
“Don’t forget to tell him you speak French and have experience. Better yet, tell him you work with me.”
“I will do. Oh, excuse me.” My phone begins to buzz like a bee against my desk. “Hello?”
“Ms. Abernathy?”
“Yes?”
“This is Mr Farrow from the Lycée. Please don’t worry, everything is fine. But we’d like you to come to school and collect Eloise, if you could.”
“What’s wrong? Is she ill?” I say, already pushing back my seat.
“She’s fine. Please don’t worry. There’s just been . . . well, a little incident.” There’s a hint of something in his voice that might be amusement. The sudden, tight fist around my heart releases a tiny bit.
“Yes, of course. I’ll be there very soon.”
Goodbyes are said, and I end the call.
“Is everything okay?” Marta asks as I hurriedly grab the jacket from the back of my chair.
“I have to go to Lulu’s school.” I shove my phone into my purse distractedly. “I’ll let Ethan know I’ve left.”
“Is she sick?”
“No.” Though I might feel so. “I think she might’ve just been expelled.”
25
Fee
“I’ve just about had it with this vegable yuck.” Lulu glowers over the kitchen table at me, pushing the remains of her dinner around her bowl.
“You like risotto,” I answer evenly and without looking up as I continue to eat my own serving.
“I didn’t go snooping,” she mutters next. “And you shouldn’t have told them I did.”
Them being her teachers and snooping being something she is definitely guilty of. Snooping and borrowing. Again.
And then getting sent home from school.
And that wasn’t even the worst of the experience. For me, at least.
“Are you going to tell him?” I look up at her quiet tone. She’s still glowering but mainly to hide her embarrassment.
“No.” I put down my fork because I’m really not hungry, either. What I need is a drink after the afternoon I’ve had. “I won’t tell him.” Mainly because I’ll probably burst into flames. Not the sinful, God-smiting kind, but the kind of flames mortification brings.
While Lulu is in the doghouse, I feel like Carson should be there, too. Not that I’d ever tell him what happened this afternoon. No way.
“I said I was sorry.” If it’s possible, her brows lower even farther.
“I know you are.”
“But why did they send me home?”
Probably so they could laugh in peace. After all, it’s not every day a four-year-old wears a cock ring to school as a bracelet.
Please let it have been unused.
“Will I still be in trouble tomorrow?”
“You’re not in trouble now.” Not really. Though I think I might be the talk of the school staffroom. “It was nearly time to go home. Mr Farrow was probably just doing me a favour by saving me from coming back to school twice.”
He also appeared to be quite happy, delighted even, because I’d agreed to go out with him this Saturday. I’m not sure how it happened or if I even meant to say yes. My head was in bits from embarrassment. All I know is, one minute I was facing the head of kindergarten and Mr. Farrow, there in the position of the teacher who’s confiscated the contraband, over the breadth of a desk, explaining how that thing lying on a folder between us couldn’t possibly be mine. And next, I was walking out of the school after having agreed to meet him at a bar on Saturday night.