The next evening, Annie went to Coach Ritter’s house to babysit Abbey and Brandon. Coach had a meeting with her boss at the hospital and promised she would only be gone a couple of hours.

“Brandon will tell you he doesn’t have to eat his broccoli, but that’s a lie,” Coach explained, slipping a lightweight scarf around her neck. “And Abbey will probably play the ‘five more minutes’ game when bedtime rolls around.” She smiled at Annie, whispering as she buttoned her coat. “Here’s a trick. Start getting her ready for bed fifteen minutes early, and then you can give her three five-minute grace periods. You still get her to bed on time, but she thinks she’s getting away with something.”

“Brilliant,” Annie said, giggling.

“Survival instinct,” teased Coach. “You’ve got to stay one step ahead of them at all times.”

“Just like roller derby,” Annie observed.

“Yes, except around here, I don’t have a referee.”

Coach left for her meeting and Annie locked the door behind her. She found Abbey and Brandon waiting for her in the kitchen. Abbey had nearly cleared her plate, but Brandon, as predicted, still had a pile of broccoli on his. “I don’t wike bwoccli,” he said, folding his arms firmly across his chest.

It took some cajoling on Annie’s part and one exceedingly animated telling of The Three Little Pigs to get him to gobble down the remaining vegetables.

Later, while the kids enjoyed their dessert in front of the television, Annie loaded the dinner dishes into the dishwasher and put away the milk carton. As she did, she couldn’t help engaging in a cheesy fantasy about being married to Tyler and having two adorable kids.

She was startled out of her daydream when she closed the fridge door and found Abbey smiling up at her. The little girl was holding a battered scrapbook.

“What’s that?” Annie asked.

“You’ll see!” cried Abbey. Then she bounded off into the living room.

Annie followed her and found both kids beaming at her from the sofa. Between them, the album was open to a photo of a stunning young woman on roller skates.

“Oh my God!” cried Annie, taking in the permed hairstyle and high-waisted acid-washed jeans. “Is that your mummy?”

Abbey nodded, pointing to the photo. “She was a roller derby girl in college.”

Annie laughed, sitting down and taking the scrapbook into her lap. “This is great,” she said, flipping the pages. There were several more pictures, even a few action shots that showed how aggressive Coach Ritter had been on the track. There were also several newspaper clippings that attested to the fact that “Miss Demeanor” had been a star.

They giggled over the photos for a little while, then Annie had to break the terrible news that it was time for bed.

“I can get ready myself,” Abbey informed Annie with a big smile. “But can I have five more minutes?”

Annie laughed. “Sure.”

Brandon protested, but only mildly. He was so sleepy he could barely keep his eyes open. Annie got him into his pajamas while Abigail headed to the bathroom to brush her teeth.

“Sleep tight,” Annie whispered, tucking Brandon under the puffy blue quilt.

“Wait. Where’s Quackers?”

“Crackers?” Annie was confused. “You just had cookies.”

“No.” Brandon shook his head. “Quackers is my duck.” He let out a huge yawn.

Annie searched around the room for a plush toy duck, but Quackers wasn’t under the bed, in the toy box, or in any of the dresser drawers.

“Try the hamper,” Abbey suggested, appearing in the doorway wearing a pink ruffled nightgown. Annie opened the dirty clothes hamper. In addition to a pair of blue jeans with grass stains on the knees and a little sweatshirt streaked with finger paint, she also found Quackers!

“Thank you,” said Annie, grinning at the little girl. “You just earned yourself five more minutes!”

Abbey clapped her hands.

“Here you go,” she said, tucking the well-loved, worn-out yellow duck in beside Brandon.

“Ask him if he used the potty,” Abbey instructed.

“Did you use the potty?” Annie asked.

“I don’t hafta go,” said Brandon, closing his eyes.

Annie turned off the light and tiptoed out of the room. Then she and Abbey spent the next fifteen minutes curled up on her pretty quilt. All Abbey could talk about was how one day she would be a roller girl.

“Just like your mum!” said Annie.

“And just like you!” said Abbey.

When Abbey finally nodded off, Annie went downstairs to begin her homework. She got her math out of the way first, then read a few chapters of Wuthering Heights. Three minutes into an essay on the First Continental Congress, her phone chirped. “Hey, Lex,” she said, accepting the call.

“How’s the child wrangling going?” Lexie joked.

“They’re cute,” Annie said. “But exhausting.”

They talked about school for a bit, and Annie floated the idea that maybe she should approach Tyler and ask him out. “I’m just afraid I’ve blown any chance I ever had with him,” she grumbled.

“It’s his loss,” Lexie said. “He’s a moron if he can’t understand why you didn’t want to let down your team. Try to put him out of your mind.”

“He’s too cute not to think about!”

Lexie giggled. “True. You know who else is?”

“Who?”

“Duh. Jesse! He’s also cooler and nicer than Tyler.”

“He’s also in love with Sharmila.”

“What?! Since when?”

“I don’t know,” said Annie with a deep sigh. “Maybe since forever. You should have seen the way he looked at her the other day at the rink.”

“Sounds like you’re jumping to conclusions,” said Lexie. “If you ask me, if he likes anyone, it’s—”

Lexie’s observation was cut off by the sound of a scream from the upstairs hallway. “Gotta go!” cried Annie, hitting the phone’s off button. She leaped out of her chair and ran.

At the top of the stairs she heard Brandon’s voice crying, “Quackers! Quackers, you got flushed!”

Uncontrollable sobbing was coming from the bathroom. Unfortunately, that wasn’t the only thing coming from the bathroom. Annie looked down to see that a steady flow of water was already seeping into the hall carpet.

She dashed into the bathroom, where Brandon was wailing. The feet of his pajamas were soaked through, and a steady cascade of water continued to bubble up and out of the toilet. Annie began grabbing anything she could to mop up the flood — tissues, bath sheets, even a plush chenille bathrobe she found hanging on a hook behind the door.

But the waterfall did not stop.

Annie gave up. She splashed across the tile floor, picked Brandon up and sat him on the edge of the sink. As the toes of his pajama feet dripped into the deluge, she took out her phone and called home.

“Dad . . . ? Help!”

Eventually, they were able to piece together the events that had led to the fact that Annie’s father was now standing above the Ritters’ toilet with a plunger.

Brandon had gotten up to use the bathroom, but in his groggy state, he’d accidentally dropped poor little Quackers into the toilet, then flushed before he realized his toy had decided to go for a swim.

The good news was that Quackers had been rescued and was soaking in some strong detergent in the bathroom sink. The bad news was that the toilet was currently out of order until Coach Ritter could bring in a plumber.

Annie was helping Brandon into a dry pair of pajamas when the front door opened.

“Hello?” came Coach’s anxious voice up the stairs. “Annie? I saw your father’s car in the driveway and . . .”

“We’re up here,” called Annie.

She could hear Coach taking the stairs two at a time. When she flew into Brandon’s room, her eyes were filled with panic. “Is everything all right? Is anyone hurt?”

“Just Quackers,” said Abbey, who was perched on the foot of her brother’s bed.

“He awmost dwowned!” Brandon reported, then, to clarify, he added, “in the toywet.”

Coach’s eyes went from Brandon, to Abbey, to Annie, and finally to Annie’s dad, who had just appeared in the doorway, holding the plunger. It only took her a second to figure out the specifics, and when she did, to Annie’s surprise, Coach burst out laughing.

“Didn’t I tell you?” she asked. “I really do need a referee.”

It took some persuading to get the kids back to sleep after all the excitement. Coach had to reassure Brandon several times that Quackers would dry out and recover.

In the meantime, Abbey offered him her favorite stuffed dinosaur to sleep with, which Annie thought was the sweetest thing ever.

Finally, both children conked out and Annie and Coach Ritter tiptoed down the stairs.

Dad was waiting in the living room, flipping through the scrapbook.

“Well, that’s embarrassing,” Coach said, laughing, when she saw what he was looking at. “Those were my big hair days! Have you ever seen anything so unflattering?”

“Don’t be silly,” said Dad. “I’ve always found the frizzy perm a very becoming look.” He managed to say this with an utterly straight face, but Annie noticed that his eyes were twinkling with laughter.

Coach rolled her eyes and smiled. “You’re either a true gentleman, or you really need to have your eyes checked.”

Annie wasn’t sure she liked the flirty tone in either her father’s or Coach Ritter’s voice. It was just too . . . weird.

“I’m really sorry about the mess, Coach,” Annie piped up, eager to change the subject.

“Oh, honey, it’s not your fault at all. In fact, this isn’t even the first time something like this has happened to ol’ Quackers. Let’s see . . . there was that one time he went through the dishwasher, and then the time he nearly got devoured by the neighbor’s labradoodle.” She shook her head, chuckling. “Believe me, that little duck has had more than his share of near-death experiences. But he always bounces back.”

Annie sighed. “I hope the same can be said for the toilet.”

“Fished a toy car out of there just last week. We’ve got the plumber on retainer.”

“Well,” Dad said, laughing, “I’m very impressed with how calmly you’re taking this.”

“It’s part of the job description,” said Coach. “Now, David, may I offer you a cup of coffee for your trouble?”

Annie watched as a strange expression flickered across Dad’s face. He looked as though he really wanted to accept the offer, but after a moment’s hesitation he shook his head. “Thanks, but I’ve got an early start tomorrow, and I’m sure Annie’s still got homework to finish.” For some reason, Annie was relieved. “Maybe another time?” he added.

“I’d like that,” said Coach. She gave Dad a glowing smile, which he returned with a bashful grin.

Annie just stood there, feeling like a spare part.

Suddenly, she was in a hurry to go home.

“So,” she said, as soon as Dad began backing out of the driveway, “do you like her?”

She’d considered being more subtle, but then decided to be direct. She wanted an answer, so she might as well just come out and ask the question.

“Of course I like her,” said Dad. “She’s your coach.”

“Not what I meant,” said Annie. “I was asking if you like her. Meaning, do you want to date her?”

Dad frowned. “Would that be a problem?”

Truthfully, Annie wasn’t even sure. Part of her loved the idea of Dad having someone to spend time with. Coach Ritter was fun, smart, and pretty. Dad could do a lot worse.

But there was another part of her that still hoped for a miracle. There was always that slight chance that Dad and Mum would get back together, and she was afraid that Dad dating would be a step away from that possibility. “I don’t know,” she answered finally. “I honestly don’t know. All I do know is that I want you to be happy.”

Dad smiled. “Back atcha, Beanie,” he said softly.

Annie closed her eyes and they drove the rest of the way home in silence.