I’m starting to panic just a little bit. Shane’s busy schedule has meant that we don’t get much time to talk, much less kiss each other, and I keep getting glimpses of what his life would be like when I’m not living with him anymore. I need to have a plan. I can’t ignore this job opportunity.
By the time I look up from my phone, Summer and Lucky are no longer on the bridge. I see Summer dragging Lucky over to the Japanese Tea House. “Summer! Wait for me!” I am already questioning my decision to bring them here by myself. I usually just shuttle them around, picking them up and dropping them off, or I take them to the beach where it’s easy to keep an eye on them. The other times we’ve gone on outings like this, it has been the four of us.
“You have to stop running off like that.”
“We weren’t running!”
“You need to stay with me. Both of you. Always.”
“But you were looking at your phone! Oy!”
“I was just checking to see if your papa sent a text or not.”
“Did he?”
“No. Let’s keep walking.”
“Can I get a hot dog?”
“You just ate a pretzel.”
“But I finished it.”
“We’ll have lunch in an hour, Summer. You’ll just have to wait.” I don’t mean to snap at her, but oy vey.
She doesn’t growl at me or stick out her lower lip like she usually does. She just frowns and goes silent. Which is even more troubling.
Lucky looks up at me apologetically, taking my hand.
“Let’s go see the rose garden. Does that sound good?”
“Okay. Is it far away?”
“I don’t think so. We’ll just cross back over the bridge and then follow the main path to the right.”
“Okay.”
Summer continues her silent rage, staring at the ground while walking hand-in-hand with Lucky. She doesn’t even look at the koi when we cross the bridge.
“Hey. Where do fish keep their money?”
Lucky wrinkles his brow. “Their pockets?”
“A river bank!”
No reaction from the twins. I don’t blame them. That one’s a thinker.
“Knock knock.”
“Who’s there?”
“Honeydew.”
“Honeydew who?”
“Honeydew you want to hear some more jokes?”
Lucky laughs. He may or may not actually get the joke, but he definitely wants to lighten the mood. Summer is still sulking. I glance over at the snack bar as we pass by and briefly consider buying her a hot dog just to cheer her up so she’ll like me again. But no. Nope. I’m in charge. Not her.
The rose garden is in full bloom, and I get dozens of gorgeous close-up shots. I take a picture of Summer and Lucky dancing around on the lawn like Russian Jewish villagers and immediately e-mail it to Margo and text it to Shane because it looks like they’re having fun. Maybe Lucky managed to cheer his sister up, bless his heart.
My phone immediately vibrates with a text notification from Shane.
SHANE: Mazel tov!
I laugh and look up at the kids before replying. “Hey guys, I’m going to sit here on this bench, okay? Your dad sent a text.” They completely ignore me, but the bench isn’t far away, so I guess they’ll figure it out.
ME: Diddle daidle biddy bum.
SHANE: Fuck, I love it when you text dirty to me. You having a good day?
ME: Yes.
SHANE: So that’s a no, then? Wish I could be there. I’m so sick of answering the same questions over and over again, and there’s still a couple of weeks of this dog and pony show to go.
ME: I think I speak for everyone when I say we really fucking miss you.
SHANE: I really miss you guys too.
SHANE: If it wasn’t clear…by ‘you guys,’ I meant your tits.
ME: If it wasn’t clear…by ‘everyone,’ I meant all of my lady parts.
SHANE: Tell your lady parts they have a standing invitation to join me in my bed every night. And by ‘standing invitation’ I mean…
ME: Pretty sure I know what you mean, Papa.
SHANE: Oy vey.
SHANE: Gotta go. They’re calling me back inside. See you at dinner.
I can’t stop smiling. I could be in the center of an actual shitstorm while being attacked by aliens, and a text from Shane Miller would still put a smile on my face and make me feel like I can face the rest of my day. I slide the phone into my pocket and look up to tell the kids that it’s time to move on to the next garden.
But the kids aren’t on the lawn where I last saw them.
They aren’t anywhere that I can see.
I even made sure they were wearing brightly colored clothes today—both of them are wearing sunflower-yellow tops.
I instinctively reach for the heart pendant that Shane gave me, stand up, and do a slow spin around to survey the entire rose garden. It’s not all that crowded. They could certainly be on the ground, ducking beneath the rose bushes. I call out their names. No answer. I jog over to the covered patio and call out for them again. I go into the ladies’ room, check under the stalls, calling out their names. I open the door to the men’s room and call out for them, but no one answers. I go inside to check under the stalls—empty.
Their legs are shorter than my arms. They could not have gotten very far in the couple of minutes that I was looking at my phone. There’s no need to panic. I just need to walk around. I just need to scour every inch of this 150-acre property as quickly as possible. The first logical place to look is the snack bar, but I see that there’s a miniature train stopped outside the rose garden, so maybe they went to check it out.
I run over to the enchanted fucking railroad station, but I don’t see Summer or Lucky anywhere.
It occurs to me that maybe I should return to the bench where I was sitting, in case they go back there to find me.
I run back to the bench in the middle of the rose garden and sit there, calmly, for thirty seconds. Thirty-one seconds later, I’m in full-on panic mode. Thirty-two seconds later, I’m sprinting to the snack bar near the entrance to the gardens. I check the restrooms near the snack bar. I check all of the tables on the patio. I check the gift shop nearby. I run back to the Japanese Garden and the tea house, because maybe they wanted to go back there.
Or maybe I should go back to the bench again so they know where to find me?
I should have told them to meet me in a specific place if we got separated.
Shit.
How do single parents handle more than one kid?
“Are you all right, dear?”
I spin around to find two sweet elderly ladies looking at me with concern and realize that I’m practically hyperventilating.
“I…I can’t find my kids.” Oh shit, I’m tearing up. This is so unprofessional.
“Oh no. How old are they?”
“Five. They’re five. They’re wearing yellow shirts, a boy and a girl.”
“Well, we haven’t seen them, but you should talk to the people in the front office. I’m sure they have a way of dealing with this kind of thing.”
“Yes. Yes—good idea.” I run back to the front entrance, but I mean—it’s not a supermarket. They can’t make an announcement on a loudspeaker telling them where to meet me. Can they?
On my way to the front entrance, out of the corner of my eye, I see a flash of yellow.
“Lucky!”
Lucky is wandering around the tables on the patio by the snack bar, his lower lip quivering, but he’s trying so hard not to look upset.
I grab him and pick him up. As soon as he’s in my arms, he starts crying. Summer is not with him.
“Oh, honey, I got you. It’s okay. It’s okay.”
“Summer said to follow her, and then I saw a lizard and I followed the lizard.”
“Ohhh, okay. You followed the lizard and then what?”
“He went into the woods and then under a rock.”
“Uh-huh, and then
what?”
“I went out of the woods, and Summer was gone.”
“Okay. So you haven’t seen Summer since then?”
He shakes his head. “I’m sorry! I lost her.”
“No no no no, this is not your fault, sweetie. You didn’t lose Summer. We didn’t lose Summer. She’s probably just hiding from us. We’ll find her together, okay?”
I carry him to the ticket booth at the entrance and tell the man there that we can’t find his sister. Turns out they do have loudspeakers around the gardens, because they sometimes have concerts and nighttime events with music. He tells me to go around to talk to someone who meets us in the gift shop. They tell all of the employees who are on walkie talkie to look out for a five-year-old girl with light brown hair and a yellow top and jeans, to bring her to her family at the gift shop if they find her. Before they make an announcement on the loudspeakers, they ensure that there is an employee stationed at all of the exits to make sure no one else leaves with her. Then they make an announcement asking Summer to find the nearest wide path and wait there for someone in a golf cart to pick her up. Four employees in golf carts are told to drop what they’re doing to drive around looking for her.
Fifteen agonizing minutes later, Summer is dropped off in front of the gift shop. She’s crying and sucking her thumb, but she thanks the man who’s driving the golf cart for the ride when I pick her up out of the back seat. And then she waves to him and says, “Mazel tov.”
* * *
The drive home was a long one. It took the same amount of time as the drive to the garden, but this time no one sang along to Fiddler on the Roof. I finally turned it off, but Summer said she wanted to listen to it.
For lunch, I make turkey dogs for them, give them each a double helping of dessert, and we all eat, mostly in silence. I ask them if they want to talk about what happened, but all Summer says is, “No. You were on your phone. You’re always looking at your phone.”
“I’m not always looking at my phone, Summer, but I’m very sorry that I wasn’t watching you for two minutes.”
She clams up after that.
I haven’t texted Shane since there’s no need to worry him and nothing for him to worry about now. I consider hiding all of the phones, iPads, and computers in this house so they can’t Skype with their mother today. Maybe they’ll forget by tomorrow.
But sure enough, Summer tells me she wants to Skype Mama. I can’t tell them not to tell her about what happened, because then they’d either just tell her that I told them not to tell her or they’d feel guilty because they’re keeping a secret from their mother. At least Summer isn’t sucking her thumb anymore and Lucky seems fine.
I set up a Skype call for them and then go to my room and shut the door. I don’t want to hear what they’re saying. If they tell Margo about it, I’ll find out sooner or later anyway.
When Shane gets home, the kids abandon the movie they were watching to run to him. I can tell he’s feeling overwhelmed from his day and just wants to chill out. But I have to tell him what happened. I get him a glass of water and a snack and ask him to join me in the kitchen when the twins are done climbing all over him.
“What happened?” he asks, sliding the kitchen door mostly shut behind him.
“What do you mean? Did they tell you?”
“Tell me what? You look totally freaked out.”
It isn’t until he puts his arms around me and brings my head to his chest that I cry. I cry like a big baby. I cry while telling him that I lost his children at the garden while I was texting with him and they had to make an announcement on the loudspeaker. He doesn’t understand a word I’m saying the first couple of times I try to explain it to him.
“Shane, I’m so sorry. It was so stupid of me. I was so scared.”
“Hey hey hey, it’s okay. They’re here.”
“But Lucky was crying and Summer was sucking her thumb again. They were traumatized.”
“They don’t seem traumatized to me.”
“They were traumatized. It was all my fault.”
“Wow. I thought I was hard on myself, but you really are.”
“I lost your children, Shane.”
“But you found them. They’re here.”
“You really aren’t mad?”
“I mean, if you had come home without them, I would have been really fucking pissed off, and I wish they hadn’t gotten lost, but it happened and they’re safe and it’s okay. My doctor told me he once forgot his kids in the car at the mall for two hours.”
“I don’t think that’s the same thing. Have any of your other nannies lost them? Have you ever lost them?”
“No. But I always worry about it.”
“What about Margo?”
“I don’t think so. But it happens all the time. To other parents. You can’t keep kids on a leash. Well, I guess you can. But we don’t. I’ll talk to them at bedtime. I’m sure it’s fine.”
I can tell he’s concerned, but he’s trying so hard not to show it.
“Okay. Well, dinner’s almost ready.”
He rubs his forehead. “Okay. Great.”
I’m not going to ask about the new nanny.
I am not going to ask about the new nanny.
“Hey, did you know that Margo and the kids already met with a nanny to replace me? Over spring break?”
I am half-expecting him to be surprised and perhaps a tiny bit outraged by this news. But he sighs. “Yeah. I actually had a Skype meeting with her.”
“You did? When?”
“Few weeks ago.”
“Oh. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I guess I didn’t think it would be of interest to you, and also I sort of forgot because as soon as I got off of Skype with her, I had back-to-back interviews about the movie.” He sighs again, raking his fingers through his hair. He’s tired and he doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. But he continues. “Her name is Margarita.”
Shit. She sounds hot.
“She’s about sixty, I think. Her kids are all grown up. She’s pretty serious. She’s basically the opposite of you.” He kisses me on top of my head. “I’m gonna go sit with the kids.”
“Okay. They already Skyped with Margo today.”
He nods again, looking a little concerned.
“You haven’t heard from her?”
He shakes his head and leaves the room.
And that’s it.
Now all I can do is wait to see if the other shoe is going to drop.
24
Shane
It has been two days since the garden incident, and I hadn’t heard from Margo, so I’d almost forgotten about it. Willa has been so much quieter than usual. I know it’s still weighing on her mind, and I’d give anything to make her feel better, but I can’t promise that it was inconsequential. Because I know that Summer told Margo about it when they Skyped. And because I know Margo.
I know why Margo is Skyping me right now.
And I know that no matter what my feelings are for Willa, no matter how much my kids adore her, this nanny job was always going to end for her eventually. She is taking the kids to school, and I have about an hour before I have to leave for another day of photo shoots and interviews. I have to take this call.
“Hello, Margo,” I say once the video is connected on my phone. She isn’t in costume, and I can see that she’s in her hotel room. She is frowning me. “What’s up?”
“Well, let me tell you what’s up, Shane, in case you don’t already know. Willa lost our children when they were at a garden the other day, while she was busy texting with you.”
“Yes. She feels terrible about it. But, as you know, she found them. They’re fine.”
“So you do know about it?”
“Willa told me about it as soon as I came home. She was really upset about it.”
“And you didn’t think it was necessary to talk to me about it?”
“That’s what we’re doing now, isn’t it?”
“Sh
ane. If this were anyone else, you wouldn’t have hesitated to discuss it with me—the mother of your children.”
“Kids first. I talked to the twins about it. I know that Summer told you about it. You and I are talking about it now. Why don’t you cut to the chase?”
“I’ve spent the last day getting in touch with the nanny agency. Margarita is available to start now, so I’ve hired her. Her employment as our nanny begins tomorrow. I’m paying for the first month, but she’ll stay with you. And don’t tell me you don’t need her to stay with you—I know how busy you are for the next couple of weeks. I’ll forward her contact information, as well as the contract for you to sign. You should call Margarita to arrange a time for her to go to your house. As per your wishes, I have not communicated with Willa to let her know that she has been replaced as the twins’ nanny. I’ll leave that to you.”
“You are aware that the twins are going to be devastated if she leaves this abruptly?”
“Yes, I am. And if you play your cards right, maybe she won’t leave.”
I’m about to spew something biting and sarcastic and then I realize what she just said.
My ex isn’t giving me the holier than thou look I was expecting.
It’s the I know you better than you think look that I usually give her.
“Wait. What? What are you saying?”
“I saw the way you looked at her. You never looked at me that way. Not when we first got together. Not even during our love scenes on the show.” She wipes a tear from her eye.
Holy shit. She’s crying.
“I don’t even know why I’m crying. That’s not true. It’s not about you—get that look off your face. It’s because I know how much the kids love her too.”
Well, shit. Now she’s really crying.
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