Holly peered into the large saucepan with trepidation. It was a new recipe, one she thought sounded easy but that had become a lot more complicated as she progressed through the recipe. Holly had taken to making the family dinner at least three times a week, with varying levels of success.
She now wished that she hadn’t sent Carina home early. The Hastings’ housekeeper was a marvel, and Holly knew she’d be able to fix her current sauce issue within a couple of minutes.
She lifted the handle of the wooden spoon and stirred the pasta.
“Has that sauce thickened?” she asked herself with a frown.
“Are you talking to pasta?” Alexia queried as she entered the kitchen, schoolwork clutched in her hands.
“Yes, it’s like talking to plants.” Holly put the lid back on the pan.
“You talk to plants, too?” Alexia put her homework on the dining table, dragging a chair out by wrapping her foot around the leg.
“Yes, it helps them to grow,” Holly explained. “Don’t they teach you anything in school?”
“Nothing about talking to plants. Not yet anyway.” Alexia sat down and opened her textbook. “Maybe it will be in the later chapters. Have you heard from Mom yet?”
Holly glanced at the phone laying on the kitchen countertop in case she had missed a notification. She hadn’t and shook her head. “No, sorry, nothing yet.”
“She’s going to miss dinner again, isn’t she?” Alexia snatched up a pen and angrily pulled the cap off.
“Probably,” Holly admitted. “But you know it gets like this close to the middle of the month. She doesn’t want to stay late; she’d rather be here.”
“If she really wanted to be here, then she’d be here,” Alexia complained, burying her head in her homework.
Holly wiped her hands on a tea towel and considered the mini Victoria across the room. Alexia was like her mother in many ways, but the one major difference was that she wore her heart on her sleeve. Where Victoria needed hours and even days of gentle, subtle cajoling to confess whatever played on her mind, Alexia made it clear immediately what her worries were.
Holly knew that Victoria had reluctantly neglected her family in favour of work for many years. Both Alexia and Hugo had spoken of it, Holly’s journals documented it, and even Victoria had practically confessed to it.
After Holly’s arrival, things started to change. Victoria made more of an effort to be home for dinner, leave at a more reasonable time in the morning, and not work on weekends. Of course, the pushback from Arrival was almost immediate. Victoria found herself pulled in both directions, stuck between a family with a new and burgeoning relationship, and a multimillion-dollar company which would be lost without her.
A family meeting ensued at Holly’s request. She knew that open lines of communication would be the key. Victoria needed to know that her family wanted to spend quality time with her, but also that they’d support her when that just wasn’t possible. And the children needed to know why Victoria had to work such long hours, and that she really would rather be at home.
Victoria had always been overprotective of Alexia and Hugo, effectively shielding them from the negative aspects of life, especially work. Holly used the family meeting to explain to Victoria how that behaviour wasn’t helping anyone. The air was cleared, and, for the most part, the children realised and understood that Victoria’s insane workload was the reason for her frequent absences.
Even so, Alexia was only nine, and the extremely wise head on her shoulders was sometimes pushed aside by her heart.
Holly lowered the heat on the pasta dish and walked over to the dining table. She sat down opposite the girl and waited for Alexia to stop writing and look up at her.
“Why don’t we talk to her about how you’re feeling?” Holly suggested.
“What good would that do?” Alexia grumbled.
“I think it would do a lot of good. The last time we spoke it, things got better, didn’t they?”
Alexia shrugged. “For a while, I guess.”
“Well, adults are forgetful. Sometimes we need reminding of our promises, and sometimes people need to tell us when something is wrong. Now, remember that your mom said she gets really busy when they are closing out the magazine for the month. That’s happening right now. So, she might be late getting home, forgetful, and a bit grumpy.”
Holly smiled at the memory of the strong and softly spoken Victoria Hastings actively admitting that she was sometimes grumpy. Of course, everyone knew it was the case, but to hear Victoria admit it, and apologise for it, had been quietly amusing.
“I know. I just think she’s going to go back to the way she was before. And I know the only reason she changed her schedule was because she wanted to spend more time with you and keep you happy. It didn’t have anything to do with us.”
Holly flinched. She had had no idea that was what Alexia thought. It was like being doused with a cold bucket of water to realise that this was how the youngest member of the family perceived things.
“Oh, honey, I didn’t know you felt that way. That is absolutely not the case,” Holly denied. “I might have been the one able to tell her that she needed to change her schedule, but she didn’t do it because of me. Or to spend more time with me. She did it because she wants to see all of us.”
Alexia chewed the inside of her cheek thoughtfully.
Holly reached her hand across the table and waited for Alexia to reach out and connect them. She squeezed the girl’s hand tenderly. “She loves all of us, but I think you’re her favourite,” she confessed in a light-hearted whisper. “Hugo and I can’t compete.”
Alexia giggled.
“But, seriously,” Holly said, “your mom loves you and she wants to do what’s best for you. She just gets caught up with work sometimes. You need to remind her of the promises she made to help her keep them. And I can guarantee you that your mom didn’t simply spend more time at home because of me. I’m sorry you thought that was the case.”
Alexia pulled her hand back. “I think I know that. It just seems that way sometimes.”
“Well, I’m sorry that it does. That’s something your mom and me need to work on. Do you feel left out?” Holly hoped that wasn’t the case. She adored spending time with Alexia, and as often as possible the whole family spent time together. But she knew that Victoria’s limited free time sometimes meant there wasn’t much room for specific mother-daughter activities.
Alexia shrugged. “A little, maybe. Sometimes.”
Holly nodded her understanding and filed away a mental note to speak with Victoria about the issue. The doors of communication had been closed for too long in the Hastings house, and Holly would spend as much time as necessary ensuring they were wedged opened again.
“We’ll work on that,” she promised. Holly’s phone rang. “I bet that’s her now.” She stood up.
“Bet it isn’t,” Alexia replied. “She texts.”
“True,” Holly agreed, making her way over to the kitchen counter. Instead of Victoria’s she saw the name of an editor of a magazine she had recently started to work with. As much as it pained her to take a business call after working hours, it was a relationship she was trying to cultivate.
She answered the call and walked into the hallway so that she wouldn’t interrupt Alexia’s homework. She tried to maintain a professional conversation, but in the back of her mind she was worried about what Alexia had said.
When Holly moved in with Victoria, she had become a mother to two practically overnight. She loved Hugo and Alexia as if they were her own, but she was also painfully aware that they were not. And she was not a mother who had gained insight and wisdom over the course of many years; she was just some woman who now lived with them. Of course, she hoped they didn’t see her like that, but the fear niggled away at her.
What was she? A stepmom? Their mother’s girlfriend?
It was all a little muddy.
And being a parent was hard. She was often worried that she’d implement a change that would irreversibly scar one of the children for life.
“Did you get that, Holly?”
She turned her attention back to the phone call. “Yes, sorry, Miriam, I think I lost connection there. I was saying I’d love to take on that article. Can you send over the brief and the deadline to my usual email address? You said you needed it by tomorrow at eleven?”
She sat on the stairs and listened to Miriam talking about the job. Her parenting crisis could wait until after the call.
“Coming through.”
She turned. Hugo was coming down the stairs with the laundry basket in his hands. Holly stood up and walked away from the stairs to allow him past. Every chore in the Hastings household had been carried out by staff when Holly first arrived. Cooking, cleaning, laundry, dog walking. Everything.
Holly had politely explained to Victoria that she wasn’t doing her children any favours by having them waited on hand and foot. Now, both children did a few chores to help the staff and to learn how to manage a house.
“All done?” she asked Hugo, her hand over the microphone so Miriam didn’t hear.
“Yep. Can I play on my PlayStation now? Or is it nearly dinnertime?”
Holly looked at her watch. Victoria hadn’t arrived, nor had she texted to say she’d be late. With the absence of information, Holly decided to go ahead and have dinner on time.
“Nearly dinner, you’ve got about fifteen minutes.”
He nodded and rushed to the laundry room to put the basket away.
She returned her attention to the call. “That’s great, Miriam. Thanks for thinking of me. I’ll review it tonight, and I’ll get the article over to you in the morning.”
“Thanks, Holly. I knew I could count on you,” Miriam replied, relief evident in her tone.
They said their goodbyes, and Holly hung up.
“New article?” Hugo asked, coming back through the hallway to go upstairs and cram in a few minutes of gaming before dinner.
“Yes, something about conspiracy theorists,” she told him.
Hugo took the stairs two at a time. “Flat Earthers?”
“Of course it’s flat, Hugo,” she deadpanned. “What other shape could it possibly be?”
She heard his laughter from the upper landing and chuckled to herself.