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)
Unlike some (little) people.
“I was jus looking at it.” Her little fingers unfurl from the figure, and she steps away with a pout.
“Of course you were,” Rose replies in a soothing tone. “And it’s totally fine just to look.”
“Totally fine to look. Not so fine to pocket it,” I find myself muttering as I watch Lulu skip away. “Remind me who he is again?” I turn to Rose, picking up our earlier conversation thread. “The guy who owns this place, I mean?”
“Carson Hayes is a family friend,” she answers airily. “Carson Hayes III.” She laughs a little as though party to some inside joke. All I can think is he sounds ancient and more than a little pompous. Who the heck refers to themselves as ‘the third’ anything? Which I’m assuming he does or why else would Rose have mentioned it? But I keep my thoughts to myself because Rose moves in some strange (see: rich) circles these days. Besides, the man was nice enough to let us stay here on very short notice, I purposely remind myself.
“Wouldn’t it be better if we just extend our hotel stay for a few more days?”
“And get to and from the hotel to Lulu’s school twice a day?”
“We might find an apartment before she starts school on Monday,” I answer brightly.
“That is highly unlikely, and more like impossible.”
“But it’s just weird, isn’t it? I don’t even know him, and he’s letting me stay here.”
“I know you hate being anything less than self-sufficient, but just trust me on this. He’s a genuinely nice guy. If I’d known your accommodation was going to fall through so spectacularly, I’d have introduced you to him when he was in town last. Actually, no,” she amends, her expression firming. “If I’d have known the kinds of places you were looking at, I’d have passed the job onto a relocation consultant myself.”
Which would’ve cost more money, and she’s already shelling out so much on my behalf. Or at least, the foundation is.
“The apartment was terrible, but the neighbourhood wasn’t bad,” I counter half-heartedly.
“Wasn’t bad?” she repeats, though not exactly in the same tone. “What, in particular, did you like about it? Was it the corpse-shaped chalk line on the sidewalk outside of the building, or the tweakers hanging on every other street corner, or the dealers on the ones between?”
“Someone’s been watching too much Law & Order.” Lord knows this move has had enough drama so far to fill a whole season of the show.
“And someone shouldn’t be so hard on herself,” she retorts.
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Babe, you look like someone kicked your puppy. Finding somewhere to live within commuting distance of downtown Manhattan is why there are relocation consultants in the first place. I should’ve realised you needed help.”
“I’m not your responsibility,” I reply wearily.
“No, but you are my friend,” she retorts before leaving the room to investigate Lulu’s shouts of “cool!”
With one more glance at the million-dollar views, I follow my daughter’s giggles . . . to the room she’s currently in, jumping on a bed as big as a helicopter pad.
“Eloise Rose! You get your bum down off that bed.”
“Haven’t got my bum on it. Just my feets!” She giggles a little breathlessly, ignoring my instructions completely.
Swiping her up, I deposit her to the floor and bend forward until we’re eye to eye.
“We do not bounce on beds,” I state in a tone much calmer than I feel.
“Yes, we do,” she says, one hand sliding to her non-existent hip. “Even growdups do it sometimes.”
“When have you ever seen me jump on a bed? Especially a bed that doesn’t belong to me?”
“Well, Mia, my friend at school, says her daddy and his girlfriend bounce on their bed all of the time. They bounce on it and bounce on it, and they keep the bedwoom door locked so she can’t join in. And sometimes her mummy and her daddy do it together.”
“Oh. Well.” I ignore Rose’s snigger from somewhere in the vicinity of the doorway.
“I think that’s what you do, Mummy.” She gaze narrows to comically thin slits. “You just wait until I’m not home to bounce on the bed.”
“Believe me, it has been a long time since I bounced on a bed with anybody.”
“You bounce all by yourself because you are a meanie pants,” she retorts with a frown and a stamp of her foot. “You just want to keep all the fun to yourself.”
If motherhood has taught me anything, it’s that parenting manuals suck. Nothing can prepare you for a four-year-old with an attitude and an answer for everything. No amount of reasoning or time-outs work for my child, so instead, we have this; one little hothead and one cool response. And a battle of wills fought pretty much every day.
“I’m the mummy that wants to hide all the fun?” I ask. Lulu nods. “Well, you’re the little girl who won’t be going near a park or a castle or a zoo or even a carousel horse any time soon. What do you think, Tante Rose?”