Page 71 of Watching Henry

“Oh, pish,” Maeve responded. “She's a little girl. What little girl likes broccoli?”

Emily did, Florence almost said, but she stopped herself. “In general, it's good to be consistent about the rules,” she said instead, still quietly.

“I completely agree, my dear. But then, it is the summer holidays, and they're only small for so long. Let them have a little fun, don't you think?”

“Of course, Ms. McLeod,” Florence answered.

“What about some wine?” Maeve asked. “And please, do call me Maeve, we've talked about this.”

“No, thank you,” said Florence, politely.

Maeve was holding the bottle and reaching for a second glass nevertheless when Henry came bolting into the dining room.

“Mom, Emily took my tablet!”

Florence frowned. She'd had no idea that Henry had been given his tablet back.

“Then go and watch TV in the den instead,” Maeve said calmly. “There's nothing wrong with sharing with your sister.”

Something that Florence could actually agree with. Florence felt a little sick inside, but she'd been hired to do a job, hired because Maeve had persuaded her ex-husband to keep Florence on. She presumed that was because she'd been persuasive about the kids needing help. Which meant she had a responsibility to them.

“Ms. McLeod, sorry, Maeve.” It felt odd to call her by her first name. “Henry has responded quite well to having his screen time restricted...”

Maeve waved a hand. “I know, I know, and don't go thinking I've undone all your hard work. I've simply told him that he can have an hour of screen time whenever he chooses to take it. A little more flexibility, do you see? You can't schedule everything!”

Why on earth not, Florence wanted to say, but didn't.

“You need to relax a little more,” Maeve said, pouring a second glass of wine and sliding it toward Florence. “I see what you're doing, and I appreciate it, but there needs to be a little balance in life, don't you agree? A little light to go with the shade, a little warm to go with the cold?”

A balance, Florence suddenly thought, that Hadley had given her. A balance that had made the children happy, not undisciplined. A balance that maybe she was missing.

The thought was uncomfortable. Florence hadn't believed in doing her job any other way other than the way she'd been taught. The strict, old-fashioned way. And yet she couldn't deny that the kids had thrived with a little of Hadley thrown into the mix.

“Yes,” she said slowly. “Yes, I guess so.”

She took a sip of the wine and Maeve laughed. “It's not poison, you know.”

Charlie bounced in. “Mom, Emily says I can't stay awake 'till midnight, but I can, right? Can't I, mom? Can't I?”

Maeve shrugged. “As long as you get up in the morning, I don't see why you can't try. You won't know anything unless you try.”

Florence sighed but didn't countermand her. And Charlie went happily off to tell his sister the news.

Maeve had a point about balance, Florence thought. But even irresponsible, undependable Hadley wouldn't have let Charlie stay up until midnight.

She sipped a little more of the wine to be polite and then got up to start clearing the dinner table. Her job was changing. Or she was changing. And she wasn't sure she liked the transformation all that much. What was once black and white had become gray. She picked up a stack of plates. Gray was her least favorite color.

Chapter Thirty One

Hadley stood surrounded by piles of clothes. She was throwing yet another black tank onto a similarly colored stack when her phone rang.

“God-dammit,” she said, digging through a heap of pants.

The phone continued to ring.

“Where the hell is it?” She moved on to a precarious tower of sweatshirts.

“Hello?” She finally found it in her shirt pocket and was breathless when she answered.