Page 15 of Five Years
“Yes!”
“What about Ariana?” she asked.
“Ariana doesn’t like kids,” Grace said.
“I think she’d make an exception for her nephew,” Leah laughed.
“Maybe.”
“What about one of your parents?”
“My mother the hypochondriac, and my dad the over-obsessive sports freak who will probably force Ezra to run track at 6 a.m. every day until he pukes?”
“You make a valid point. Although I do love Violet.”
Violet Harrison was a beloved figure in her community—sweet-natured, with a warm smile and a kind heart. She had dedicated her whole life to raising her children to be upstanding members of society, and Leah admired her for that.
“Plus, they’re too old. They can’t run around after a toddler.”
“What about Johnathan’s brother?”
“Are you trying to get out of this?”
“No, not at all. I’m actually honoured. I’m just surprised, that’s all,” Leah admitted.
“Why would me choosing you as Ezra’s appointed guardian surprise you? You’re one of the most wonderful humans I know. I actually think he would be better off with you regardless of whether I die,” Grace chuckled.
“If you want him to live off a diet of pretzels and leftover Friday doughnuts, then yes,” Leah joked.
“You didn’t seriously take home the leftover doughnuts, did you?”
“They would’ve gone to waste! I have breakfast for the whole weekend now.”
There was a health expert somewhere nearby cursing Leah for her yo-yo eating habits. She was healthy—for the most part. The sheer amount of biodegradable salad bowls in her office trash can would support her argument.
“What are you doing this weekend?” Grace asked.
“The same thing I do every weekend—watch TV, eat takeout, and wait patiently for my dad to request a million things I already sent him.”
Douglas Green was a highly ambitious man with great leadership skills and a presence that commanded respect, but there was a reason he had two assistants and an advisor—organisation wasn’t his strongest skill.
“Luckily, he’s on holiday next week, so after tomorrow he’ll be in vacation mode, and I’ll be working from home most of the week.”
“Shouldn’t you go in and enforce your role as Advisor to the CEO on the good people of DGAG?” Grace jested.
“They already hate me, Grace. Let’s not give them any more reason to.”
“I’m sure they don’t hate you. They just hate that you have a successful father who’s willing to take a chance on his brilliant, beautiful daughter over the other more qualified women in his workplace,” Grace teased.
“Thanks!”
Leah hated having to argue her position. She feared she wasn’t qualified enough—but in reality, she was. More so than half thewomen who seemed to so begrudgingly interact with her. She hoped for her chance to prove it soon enough.
Grace very abruptly ended the phone call when Ezra’s cry echoed through the house—parental duties.
The black metal box on the bottom shelf of her bookcase was her memory box. In her old apartment back in Michigan, the box was neatly tucked away in her wardrobe, out of sight, gathering dust. It only made an appearance after one too many drinks or a feel-good film that made her want to reminisce. The box contained everything from a certificate she received in fourth grade to a poker chip from the one and only time she went to Vegas. It held items of significance only, each bringing back a fond memory she hoped to look back on one day with heightened appreciation.
When she unpacked, there was a hesitation in hiding the box away. Now, she stared at it as though it somehow had all the answers. The contents had evolved over the years—a small capsule for every chapter of her life. Including the chapter that Ariana had been a part of.
