Nellie and her cousins flop into their chairs, filling the empty seats around our round table.
“I’m sweaty,” Lucy announces.
“Can I have juice?” Charlotte asks her mom, stealing Bree’s plastic cup.
“You want some?” I see Nellie eyeing my nearly empty glass. At her nod, I rise. “Let’s go fill yours up.”
We weave through rowdy kids on our way to the punch bowl.
“Are you having fun?”
“This is the best night ever.” The flush on her cheeks nearly matches the fruit juice. “Can we come back next year?”
The thought slithers through my mind that I most likely won’t be here next year. As well as things are going, I doubt Sutton can stomach keeping me under his roof that long.
I hand her a fresh glass of punch. “I’m sure you will.”
The exclusion of myself from my sentence goes right over her eight-year-old head.
“Can you come with us to the county fair?”
“We’ll probably have to ask your dad what his plans are first.”
Her eyes sparkle in the colorful strobes behind us. “We go every single year. I like seeing all the horses in the barn and petting the goats and cows and baby chicks. I’m sure he’ll say yes. Oh, and they have rides!” She sucks in a lungful of air. “Do you like rides?”
“The Ferris wheel is my favorite,” I tell her.
“I love the Ferris wheel too! We can go together.”
“What about your dad?” I laugh at her exuberance.
“He’ll come too. But I really like being with you, Miss Alice. It’s almost like I have a mom.”
My stomach pitches. She says it simply as if those seven words didn’t just tear my heart out. My lips part. Something rises to the tip of my tongue. Something soft. Something kind. But what can I really say? I close my mouth and soak it in, opening the door and letting in her grief.
Before I can find the right words, a little girl approaches. Her dress is sleek, without all the fluff and flair of a ball gown. I recognize her from Nellie’s dance practices. The little girl scrutinizes me from head to toe before turning her attention to Nellie.
She throws her hand out in my direction. “This isn’t your mom.”
If I hadn’t just seen her approach, I’d think she was eavesdropping on our conversation.
Nellie crosses her arms. “This is my nanny, Miss Alice.”
The girl scoffs. “You can’t bring your nanny. This dance is for moms and daughters.”
“Yes, I can.” Nellie tosses her curls behind her shoulder, pulling out an attitude I haven’t heard before. “This dance is a princess theme, and Miss Alice is the coolest princess I know.”
“Yeah? How so?”
“Well, she’s funny, for starters. And she’s nice. She’s good at hair and makeup and stuff. She wears cool dresses.” Nellie thrusts her hands out at my outfit as if to saysee?Then she goes on. “She has to poke herself with needles so she doesn’t get sick, and she doesn’t even cry when she does itandshe’s not scared of my dad, even when he’s using his stern voice.”
“That doesn’t mean anything.” Maddi smirks and crosses her arms as if she just scored the winning point.
“Yeah, well, she’s also going to beat up your mom!”
“Girls, girls, that’s enough. Why don’t we go back to our table?” With both hands on her back, I urgently steer Nellie away from the mean girl.
Nellie straightens her shoulders and walks with her chin high to her seat. Before we reach the others, I turn her back around.