Terry Essig - What The Nursery Needs...

“Get in the car and I’ll show you.”

“It’s probably something I don’t even like.”

“Bet it’s not. I bet it’s your favorite.”

At that, the girl flipped her ponytail and left the safety of the sidewalk. She approached the car. “Oh, yeah? Let’s see.” Her eyes widened at the variety of candy bars displayed on the front seat. Without hesitating any further, she opened the passenger door and slid in. The car gunned away from the curb to merge seemlessly back into traffic.

Her favorite was indeed there, but when the girl made to take it, the man’s hand stayed hers. “The deal is if you take that, it means the snit is officially over and you have to start talking to me again.”

The preadolescent’s eyes narrowed as she considered the catch. “Will you let Connie and me go to the mall together?”

“No. Not without an adult. My answer to that won’t change. I work with somebody whose name is forever sealed behind my lips, so don’t ask, whose niece runs in that same group. She tells me Connie and another girl were picked up for shoplifting some makeup—lipstick and stuff like that. The manager of the store let it drop when Connie’s mother made her apologize and pay double, but she might not be so lucky next time. If you’re out with somebody like that, even if you haven’t taken anything yourself, you could get picked up as an accessory, to say nothing of the fact that it just isn’t safe for two young girls to be at the mall by themselves. And don’t start on how nothing ever happens in South Bend or even the entire state of Indiana. You’ve said it all before and I still say there are too many weirdos out there.”

“Connie said she didn’t know how that lipstick got in her pocket. She thinks maybe it rolled off the shelf while she was standing there. Or else maybe Angie slipped it into her shorts pocket at the checkout when she was waiting to pay for her gum, just to get her in trouble. They had a fight that day.”

The disbelieving adult snort was loud and prolonged. “Yeah, right. How stupid do I look?”

“Besides, lots of other kids I know have tried shoplifting. They just didn’t get caught.”

“Let me put it to you this way, sweetie. You even think about trying it and you won’t set so much as a big toe outside your bedroom door for a month of Sundays. Understand?”

“But, Dad...”

Jason John Engel silently ground his teeth at his daughter’s whining tone. “I mean it, Maura, issues like this are nonnegotiable. The candy doesn’t mean I’m weakening, just that I’m willing to sweeten the refusal. Like I told you before, I can probably take you and a friend, preferably not Connie, to the mall this weekend, if you want.”

“No. Everybody else gets to go to the mall by themselves. It would be too embarrassing if anybody saw. I’d never be able to face my friends again.”

Jason shrugged, knowing he shouldn’t take her rejection personally, but doing so, anyway. “Fine. Then you don’t go.”

His twelve-year-old daughter, he noticed, ground her teeth exactly the way he did when frustrated. But she did take the candy bar. He waited until after her first bite. “So we’re talking again, right?”

Maura’s mouth stilled briefly as she stopped chewing and eyed him. Jason just hoped she wasn’t going to spit the candy all over him. He was wearing a good suit. Eventually she nodded her head in the affirmative.

Jason was afraid his relief was palpable in the car. It was scary how much control a twelve-year-old could wield with her moods and whims. It amounted . to emotional blackmail at times.

“By the way,” he said. “I want you to walk home from school on the opposite side of the street from now on. Did you see how easy it was for me to stay next to you and talk to you? If I’d have had a mind to, I could have easily hopped out of the car and grabbed you. On the other side of the street, you’d be walking against traffic, and it would be much harder for anybody in a car to harrass you.”

“Dad,” Maura began kindly, too kindly for Jason’s peace of mind. In his experience, that kind of patient tone boded nothing but ill for what followed.

“Maura, please, let’s not argue about this, too. Just do it, all right? Just do it.”

“Okay, fine, whatever.”

“Thank you,” Jason said fervently and meant it. He was so grateful, he pretended not to notice the heavy-duty eye rolling that accompanied the exasperated agreement. “Thank you very much.” He pulled around a corner onto his own street, and three blocks later pulled into his driveway.

Maura leaned forward interestedly as the car stopped next to the house. “Look, Dad, there’s somebody moving in next door.”

“Hmm?” Jason glanced up from collecting his briefcase and newspaper to see what had caught his daughter’s attention. “Oh. that’s nice. That house has been empty for so long I didn’t think anybody would ever buy it. Vacant houses lower the property values in an area. And, I suppose it’ll be good to have neighbors again, eh, Maura?”

“I wonder if there’s anybody my age.”

“Could be,” her father mumbled noncommittally as he fumbled with the door handle. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

Maura’s shoulders slumped more than usual as she walked around the rear of the car. “Look, they’re moving in a crib and a bassinet. I guess that means no friend for me.”

“Not necessarily,” Jason said as he pushed his key into the front door lock. “The baby could have an older sister and if not, think about the baby-sitting jobs that could come your way.” Money always appealed at this age. The thought of it should perk Maura right up.

It did, too. Her shoulders briefly straightened before she remembered to round them again. “Yes, Annie O’Connor had the cutest sweatshirt on at school yesterday, but she said it cost $38 and I knew you’d never pay that much for a sweatshirt. If I earn half baby-sitting, do you think you’d pay the other half, Dad?”

Jason set his briefcase down on the wooden floor of the front foyer and balanced his newspaper on top of it before tiredly rubbing his eye. “Uh, I’ll think about it, okay? Don’t eat any more of those candy bars before dinner, Maura,” he instructed as he noticed the fistful she clasped. “I don’t want you filling up on junk. Do me a favor and ration them over the next few days so I don’t feel so guilty about buying you such swill.”

Maura shrugged and crossed her fingers behind her back. “Okay, no problem, Dad.”

“Terrific,” Jason said, not believing a word of it. “I’m going to change, then see what I can put together for dinner. You’re in charge of a salad.”

“No prob.”

Jason merely grunted on his way up the stairs. Man, what a day. But at least Maura was more or less speaking to him again—if you could call this communicating.

Next door, Catherine Marie Nicholson let out a grunt. “There,” she said as she hefted another heavy cardboard box onto a stack of similar boxes in her new kitchen. “That’s the last of the dish boxes I think. Next time I move, I’m going to remember not to put so much in the boxes. These suckers are heavy!”

“Next time you move,” her sister Monica responded as she leaned against the countertops while she caught her breath, “you’ll have to give me more of an advance notice so I can be sure to have other plans for the day.”

“You don’t mean that,” Catherine assured her as she filled two cups with tap water and handed one to Monica.

“Oh, yes I do.”

“I’ll make it up to you. How about if I take Amy all day Saturday? You can spend it pottering around doing whatever you feel like.”

Monica set her cup down after chugging the liquid. “What kind of deal is that? You adore Amy. You’re always trying to get your grimy little mitts on her so that you can have your monthly ‘kid fix.’ When are you going to break down and have one of your own?”