“So you’ll do it? ’Cuz they need an answer.”
“I can’t say yes without him being on board.”
“Get him on board, then. I’ll call you tomorrow.” Kaitlyn hung up.
Melissa went back into the den, where the Yankees game was just wrapping up. They’d won, so her husband was in a good mood. Fantastic.
“You should’ve seen the last inning!” he crowed. “García was on first, the pitch went wild, he stole second, then went to third, and the catcher tried to throw him out, but the Red Sox shortstop dropped the ball, and he stole home! It was beautiful!” He took in her robe, her damp hair. “Are you feeling better, sweetheart?” he asked, remembering that she had told him she’d had an exam today.
“A lot better, thank you.” She paused. “Honey, I have some upsetting news.” She took the remote and turned off the TV, noting that Dennis had gotten crumbs all over the new couch. Irritating. She summoned tears, a gift of hers, and looked back up at him, knowing her eyelash extensions caught the tears in a most beguiling way.
“Babe, what is it?” He really was a mensch (word of the day, and one she liked very much). She now had a Word of the Day app on her phone, having graduated from paper calendars, but she still took great pride in expanding her vocabulary.
“Well . . .” She took a shaky breath and blinked so the tears would fall. “It’s my . . . sister.”
His face was keen. “What happened, honey?” he asked. Good. He was using pet names again.
“Her addiction disorder has gotten severe, and my niece . . . my poor little niece needs a place to stay for a while. She has no one else but me, Dennis. My parents . . . well, you know about them.”
She watched his face as the penny dropped. What? A kid? Your niece? Live with us? I can be Daddy Warbucks?
“Well, of course she can stay with us! Of course! Oh, honey, absolutely. Let’s fly out this weekend. I should meet your parents anyway. Give your father a piece of my mind.”
“No, no,” Melissa said quickly. “I don’t know how long this will take, honey, and my parents . . . they don’t deserve to meet you.” It hadn’t really been a stretch when she told Dennis she’d grown up in an abusive household with codependent parents. She swallowed and looked out the window. “They don’t even care what happens to their own granddaughter. They told my sister she’d be better off in foster care, and they refuse to give her any money.” As if they had any.
“For their grandchild? Jesus. Coldhearted.”
“You have no idea, honey. That’s why . . . well, that’s probably why I threw myself into making a home for you and me. I never had that growing up. When I fell in love with you, it was magical. It still is.”
“Oh, honey.” He pulled her into his arms and kissed her hair, and Melissa smiled. “Of course we’ll bring your niece here. We’ll take such good care of her, the poor kid.”
“Dennis, I love you so much.” She kissed him softly. “You are the best, kindest man in the world.”
Tender lovemaking ensued, as Dennis was feeling heroic. Men were simple creatures.
Now she wouldn’t have to get pregnant. Problem solved. Universe provides.
A few days later, Melissa flew to Columbus, Ohio, rented a luxury car and drove back to Wakeford, which hadn’t changed a bit, unfortunately. It felt like a lifetime ago that she’d left at eighteen, but it had only been seven years. Pulling into the cracked driveway of her childhood home was far too familiar. It was going to take many cleansing breaths to put this behind her. Some very deep meditation.
“?’Bout time,” Mom said as she walked through the door. “I had to call outta work to take care of her. Nice of you to flounce in from wherever you’re at.”
“Lovely to see you again, too.” She glanced in the living room, where her father sat in his recliner. “Hi, Dad.”
“Hey.” He didn’t look away from Fox News.
“Some parents would be excited to see their oldest child after all this time,” she said, irritation making her tap her perfect nails against her bag.
“Well, I don’t have no daughter with your name, whatever the hell it is,” Dad said.
“Miss High-and-Mighty, always too good for us,” Mama added.
No compliments. No pride that she looked like a million bucks, dressed like Meghan Markle, was driving a Lexus SUV. No questions about what she did, where she lived, where she was taking their only grandchild. “Where’s Harminee?” she asked.
“She’s up in your old room, what did you expect?”
Up the stairs Melissa went. The house still smelled like tuna fish and beer. Lovely.
Her niece seemed much older than seven. She wore a dirty T-shirt with a pony on it and had snarled blond curls that looked as if they hadn’t seen a comb since God was a baby.
“Hi, there. I’m your aunt,” she said, saying it the way Dennis did—ahnt instead of ant. “My name’s Melissa.” No response. “I send you presents on your birthday?”
The girl gave her a wary look. She wasn’t unpretty . . . the blond hair could be combed, and she could use an hour-long shower, probably. Harminee had blue eyes, a straight nose and resting bitch face.
“How are you doing, sweetie?” Melissa asked.
No answer. Well, boarding school was just a few years away.
“I’m going to take care of you until your mom gets better,” Melissa said. Like that would ever happen. Kaitlyn had graduated from meth to heroin, she’d told Melissa. Not easy to kick.
“She’s a addict,” the kid said. Oof. That accent.
“Yes. Well. It’s a disease, and we hope she can be cured.” Melissa had read two articles on the plane about talking to kids about addiction. “I live in Manhattan,” she said.
“Where’s that at?”
For heaven’s sake. Melissa forced a smile. “I think you’ll like it, Harminee. It’s a big, beautiful, shiny city with so many fun things to do.” She paused. “How’d you like a new name?”
“What?”
“We can change your name. A new name for a new place.”
“Really?” Finally, something that interested the child. “That’d be all right, I guess. How about . . . I dunno. Star? Or Dallas! How ’bout Dallas?”
Like mother, like daughter with the stripper names. “Oh, what about Ophelia?” Melissa suggested, as if she’d just thought of it. She’d been on Nameberry for days, looking for a name that wouldn’t identify Harminee as white trash. “That’s a gorgeous name. Very cool and mysterious. We can keep Harminee as your middle name.” And change the spelling to Harmony and add Spencer, and then Finch. Ophelia Harmony Spencer Finch. Yes. That would fit right in with the New York elite.
Harminee had already said goodbye to her other grandparents (who might actually miss her, though Melissa wasn’t getting any information from the kid). Kaitlyn was already serving her sentence for dealing heroin and cocaine.
If only Katie had followed her lead, Melissa thought. They could’ve escaped together.
After a few days of filling out the legal paperwork that made Melissa her niece’s guardian and arranging for a social worker to oversee her transition in the city, they flew back to New York. Ophelia was unable to suppress her excitement at being on an airplane, then a car with a driver, then an elevator. Dennis welcomed her with a huge pile of gifts. It was love at first sight between the two of them.