Page 30 of Single Dad's Fake Bride
The selection was limited but decent—sandwiches, fruit, coffee that smelled better than what came from the vending machines upstairs.
I chose a turkey sandwich, an apple, and a bottle of water, then added a cup of coffee and a chocolate chip cookie that reminded me of the ones Eloise favored.
Back in the waiting room, I set the bag on the small table beside Sadie's chair and pulled a receipt from gas earlier this week from my wallet.
I wrote a brief note, folded it, and placed it on top of the bag where she would see it immediately upon waking.
You need to eat something. Take care of yourself so you can take care of her. The offer stands if you need it. - H
I left without waking her, though my fingers itched to lower that hoodie and take her hair out of its messy bun so she didn't wake to a headache.
I couldn't stay, as much as I wanted to.
I had two client calls to make before picking up Eloise, but my concentration felt scattered.
The image of Sadie alone in that waiting room kept intruding on my thoughts.
So I climbed in my car to make those calls before driving across town.
I got wrapped up in work and I was reviewing cost estimates for kitchen cabinetry when my phone buzzed with a text from Elena, Eloise's sitter.
Elena: 3:45 PM: Eloise ready for pickup. She asked about Miss Quinn not being in class today and seemed upset. Just a heads up.
I replied that I would be there in fifteen minutes, then closed my laptop and headed for the school.
Eloise was waiting by the main entrance when I arrived—not in the classroom where I normally collected her.
Her backpack was slung over one shoulder and a book was tucked under her arm.
She climbed into the passenger seat and buckled her seatbelt, but I could see from her posture that something was wrong.
"How was school?" I asked, pulling away from the curb.
"Different."
She opened her book—a collection of Emily Dickinson poems I recognized from Sadie's classroom.
"Miss Quinn wasn't there today. Mrs. Henderson covered our class instead."
I kept my voice neutral.
"Did Mrs. Henderson say why?"
"Family emergency."
Eloise looked up from her book.
"I hope everything's okay. Miss Quinn seemed stressed out yesterday."
"I'm sure she's fine," I said, though I wasn't sure of anything at the moment.
"Mrs. Henderson doesn't understand poetry the way Miss Quinn does. She kept trying to explain the metaphors instead of letting us discover them ourselves."
Eloise turned a page.
"Miss Quinn says the best way to understand a poem is to let it breathe."
"Miss Quinn is a very smart woman, isn't she?"
