Page 18 of Love… It's Wild
Today is supposed to be a trial, so I only brought a tote bag with me, along with my laptop that I always travel with. I’m taking my things out when the screen door opens, and a young girl stands at the top of the steps. Her brown hair is long with flyaway strands, like she just got out of bed.
I place my hand over my eyes to shield them from the sun as I look back at her. “You gonna stand there or give me a hand?”
The young girl walks down the stairs and up to my car. “Are you the babysitter?”
I hand her a grocery bag. “Sure am. Although I don’t like the termbabysitter. Just call me Tara.”
“Dad says we should never refer to adults by their first names.”
“Well, Mrs. Parsons is my mother. I’m just Tara.”
“First names are for friends. It’s respectful to call you Miss something. If I don’t, I’ll be in big trouble. Can I call you Miss Tara?”
“God, no. That sounds like we’re in the South and I should be wearing a corset and living on a plantation. Just call me Tara. I’ll deal with your dad. It’s only disrespectful if you don’t have my permission.”
“Yeah, he won’t go for that. Other adults have tried.”
I close my trunk, place my hand on my hip, and then concede. “Fine, you can call me Madam Amazing.”
She lets out a laugh. “That’s funny.”
“Is it formal enough for you?”
“I guess. He’s still not gonna like it.”
“Well, it’s my name, so I’m the one you should worry about. Okay, now that you know who I am, will you please tell me who you are?”
I extend a hand, and she takes it with a grin.
“Molly.”
“That’s the sweetest name ever. I would’ve thought the grumpiest man in the world would have named you something cold and serious. Is it short for Mildred or Maleficent or something?”
Molly giggles. “Nope. Molly Bronson. Although I’m starting not to like it. Molly is a baby name. I’m gonna be eleven soon. Everyone treats me like my name. Like I’m a toddler.”
“I bet you and I can take care of that. Building up women to have badass attitudes is what I do. You’re okay if I say ass, right? I tend to curse sometimes.”
“Dad says cursing is for those who don’t have proper vocabulary. He curses all the time though. Pretends we don’t hear it. I can’t repeat it, or I’ll get grounded.”
I snicker to myself. I’ve most certainly heard her father curse. I guess he has a different persona around his kids. Saint Rob. This should be fun.
Her eyes widen as she takes in my car—a cute little sports convertible. “Is this your car? Can we go for a ride in it? Dad lets me go in the tailgate of the pickup truck, but there aren’t seats. This is much cooler.”
“Maybe. Only awesome kids who listen to me are allowed to use my stuff. What kind of kid are you?”
She twists her mouth. “I’m just Molly.”
“Okay, just Molly, today is the day we see if you and I are compatible enough for me to spend some time with you this summer. Why don’t we start with you showing me around?”
Molly takes the grocery bag up the stairs, and I follow behind with my stuff. The front porch is bright white with two rocking chairs looking out to the front yard. We walk inside, and I’m pleasantly surprised. The house is quaint yet cozy. A living room is to the left with a stone fireplace and two oversize couches. A wagon wheel light hangs above with a coffee table of a similar shape below. The floor is polished in a shiny lacquer. To the right is a staircase that leads upstairs.
I follow Molly down a wide hallway toward a kitchen in the back. It’s a massive room with a large island in the middle. Red brick lines the backsplash and an adjacent wall, where a farmhouse-style dining table is. The house doesn’t have many rooms, but the rooms that are here are very big.
Molly places the bag on the counter, and I leave my belongings on a seating area in an alcove off of the kitchen, where two wing chairs are placed in front of a picture window.
“I brought ingredients to make cupcakes. Do you like to bake?” I ask Molly as I take the flour and eggs out of the grocery bag.
“Cupcakes are my favorite. I’ve never baked them. I’m not allowed to use the oven.”