Then in the heart of the house.
She was smart, quietly funny, and absurdly good at math. Within two months, she was helping Owen with homework and calculating grocery totals in her head faster than I could with my phone.
The first time she called me “Rebecca” without flinching, I knew she no longer spoke to me like a guest.
The first time she accidentally called me “Aunt Becca,” I smiled alone in the kitchen for five minutes.
The first time she called me “Mom” while half-asleep and then blushed in horror, I simply kept buttering toast and said:
“Coffee’s on the table, daughter.”
She cried.
So did I.
Discreetly, of course.
I had a reputation to maintain.
As for the purchases from that Saturday?
There were consequences.
Daniel received the credit card bill at the kitchen table in total silence.
He read each line with the expression of a man reviewing every life choice that had led him to that exact moment.
“Premium imported wine basket,” he read aloud.
“Liquid therapy.”
“Three identical dresses in different colors.”
“Emotional strategy.”
“Italian heels.”
“Emergency equipment.”
“Lingerie.”
I raised one finger.
“That item is no longer any of your business.”
Hannah nearly choked laughing. Lily slapped the table. Owen asked what lingerie was, and all three of us shouted, “NOTHING!” at the same time.
It was the first time in months the whole house laughed like that.
Loud.
Unrestrained.
Alive.
Daniel looked at me over the bill, defeated and honestly a little impressed.
“You are dangerous.”
