CHAPTER II

“Good morning Connelly.”

The new secretary interrupted the beeline I was making for my office. It was awkward to see that many perky white teeth after a sleepless night. And she was cute, really cute. Her low-cut, silk blouse; long, blond, shining ponytail; and smooth, polished horns made me aware of how sloppy my messy hair, faded Chucks, and wrinkled button-up shirt must seem. To make matters worse, she was a full daemon.

My tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, but she was still smiling, so I stammered out a response.

“Uh, good morning. You’re the new secretary Starks hired right?”

“It’s Galina.” She smiled wider and tripped around the desk, hand outstretched. “Sorry I startled you. After Starks hired me, I studied all the profiles in the office, so I would know everyone on my first day.” A pair of tall pink heels appeared, followed by sexy legs under a short grey skirt that did not hide her long sinuous tail. I swallowed convulsively, not only was she hot, she was fearless. Full daemons had long prehensile tails, useful for navigating the rocky mountainous landscape of our origins, the Eurasian steppes. Many full breeds still bounced about freely with their tails out in the homeland to this day, but here in California most daemons chose to wear pants. I didn’t realize I was staring until she giggled, still holding out a hand.

“Don’t worry, I have a secret compartment,” she said.

Bewildered, I almost fainted as she bent over exposing the deep line between her breasts. Catching the tip of her tail, she slid it in a hidden pocket at the bottom of her skirt. The tail wriggled around the skirt until it disappeared. The thick hemline was the only thing that was a little off. To the untrained eye it just looked like an oddly fashioned skirt.

“I made it myself. I think I’m going to try to market it, thought maybe skirt-tail was a cute name,” she said, bright with interest as she waited for my response.

“Brilliant,” was all I could manage to say.

“Thanks!”

I couldn’t remember how to make my mouth work.

“Oh, I’m sorry! Did I interrupt you on your way somewhere?”

My face got hot. I needed to pull it together and remember my priorities.

“Oh, yes. Uhm, Galina, is Levins in yet?”

“The half-angel with no wings?”

I winced, Levins’s wings or lack thereof, were a sore issue.

“Levins did have wings before some crazy angel purists got a hold of her and cut them off. She’s really sensitive about it and can react rather,” I paused, remembering the way Levins had railed into our poor naïve intern a few weeks back. “Harshly.” This cute secretary didn’t need to incur my coworker’s wrath.

“Oh.” Galina had the sexiest way of looking concerned.

“Don’t worry, she’s cool as long as you don’t say anything about her wings.”

“Okay, thanks for the heads up. Oh, and I have a message for you; Starks is in his office and wants to see you.”

I wanted to see Levins before dealing with Starks. I was pretty sure he would figure out somehow to take me off of the case, and I wanted a little more time to prove I could handle this one. I fixed the smile on as I rubbed my horn stub, deliberating how to stall the situation and trying not to stare at Galina’s legs. I had heard the full tail helped one to balance on high heels, and from the looks of Galina’s six inchers that was true. My tiny tail was pretty useless, and since hooker heels made me fall over a lot, I tended to avoid them on principal, but I didn’t mind looking at hers or what was attached to them. Her legs were smooth, but daemons were a hairy species, which meant she had waxed or shaved her legs and her arms.

“Connelly!” The order roared down the hallway.

My insides sunk, I hadn’t even had my coffee yet, and Starks was already on my back. Mumbling something to Galina, I flopped into my office and threw my briefcase on my desk. Shoulders stiff-prepared for battle, I made the long walk down to the chief’s office.

Starks’s tall sack-of-bones was crouched in his too-short office chair as his pointer fingers punched at a keyboard. We really needed new office chairs.

“Cute new girl, planning a little hell-diving?” The sly words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

“Connelly, don’t give me attitude.” He didn’t look up. His unbound wings were flopped over the back of his chair like wilted lettuce. “Shirako is going to take over Case 342. We need you on the ground for a Code Green.”

“I know Case 342 is a Code Red.” I shot back. “Why give me a chance and then take it away again?”

That caused him to look up. “It wasn’t a Code Red until you spotted that stalker at the park.”

“He’s telling the truth.” Levins appeared at my elbow, holding two cups of coffee from the organic café around the corner.

I sniffed the aroma appreciatively, eyeing the dark liquid that matched Levins’s brown skin, and wondered why the notoriously surly agent was bringing another agent coffee.

She fixed her black eyes on me. “Subject 342 was our best kept secret until yesterday. I had seen to it personally.”

“We put you on the case temporarily because the previous field agent decided to get pregnant,” Starks said with distaste.

My eyes flashed to Levins who snorted. “Me? Yeah right. He’s talking about Chambers,” she said. “Chambers was keeping an eye on the kid since January when SITO picked up on him from some lab reports.”

“So with Chambers out, I sent you to keep an eye on Subject 342, but we had assumed he was still unidentified by either community,” Starks said. He avoided looking at Levins, but reached for the coffee.

Come to think of it Starks and Levins had been acting odd around each other for weeks, ever since the old secretary had left. Maybe they were hooking up. I clenched my fist, irritated in more ways than one.

“So you are keeping me in the CPU forever,” I said.

“You’re the best we have, Connelly. Take it as a compliment,” Starks said. He looked down at his computer again, indicating the conversation was over.

I looked appealingly at Levins. She shrugged.

“Fine.” I stomped out. I knew I should be satisfied with my job in the CPU. I helped keep SITO’s western U.S. Child Protection Unit running smoothly and felt like an integral piece contributing to the betterment of society, blah blah blah. But I had been so close to a Code Red assignment that I wanted to scream in frustration. I ignored Galina’s startled expression and slammed the door to my office closed. It infuriated me that Starks being so pigheadedly stubborn about this. The computer screen responded to my not-so-nice hammering with a ping, indicating a new email from Delilah, who was still filling in as secretary while Galina was training.

CASE NUMBER: 355

NAME: MARGARET EVANS

AGE: 8

HAIR: BLN

EYES: BLU

LOCATION: 16 PK DR. WESTFLD, CA, USA

SPECIES: DAEMONIS

ORIGIN: USA

PARENTAGE: BILGCL M + F

CODE: GREEN

Just another Code Green runaway daemon kid. I blew out my breath and sunk into my chair. Life sucked. Not only was I being treated like an amateur, but if Starks and Levins were hooking up, they would be insufferable to work with. They ganged up together enough as it was.

I responded to the email, letting Delilah and SITO know I was on my way to deal with the Code Green. I had just enough time to interview the parents before I had to pick up Johnny. Every Wednesday was a half-day for the kindergarteners at his school. My motorcycle peeled out of the parking lot with a satisfying roar, and I let the stress of the morning seep away into the lines of the freeway. By the time I reached the home of Case 355, I was in a considerably better frame of mind.

The driveway to the runaway kid’s house was enough to put me back in grouch mode. It was huge and beautiful, a model of an upper middle class home. Manicured flowerbeds lined the entryway up to a house that was easily twice as big as our office and ten times bigger than my tiny flat. Annoyed I pulled down the sleeves of my shirt to hide my tattoos and rang the doorbell. I pressed it a few times, just to be annoying.

A well-dressed maid radiating disapproval answered the door.

“The Evans are expecting me,” I said. I wondered if she was part daemon and then decided I didn’t care.

Without a word she led the way. Smoothing my hair back and worrying the stubborn wrinkles of my shirt, I followed her through the hallways of tastefully decorated stuffiness.

She left me in a room so sparkling clean that it made me want to lick something, just to contaminate it.

Finally a glossy white couple entered. Mr. and Mrs. Evans were as well manicured as their flowerbeds. The man’s brown bowler hat was the only glitch in their carefully arranged appearance.

Our judgments circled each other warily.

“Are you the agent from SITO?” asked the man.

I flashed my badge, and they visibly relaxed. Mr. Evans took off his hat to reveal polished horns curling over his slick hair. I tried not to stare at Mrs. Evans’s sleek, hornless French knot. I wondered if she had had her horns removed at birth or later on by choice. These high society types were a little sick. Even though there were many hairstyles that could hide a pair of horns, many still chose to get them removed. The most twisted were those that removed their children’s horns at birth. It was highly illegal, but it was still done. I hoped her tail was still there, taped to her thigh and hidden under her wide pants suit, but it was probably removed and by choice too. I pulled out my notepad.

“When did your daughter, Margaret Evans, first disappear?”

Mr. Evans stepped forward. “This morning, after breakfast.”

“Do you have any idea where she may have gone?”

“None.”

“Have you looked for her?” I asked.

He cleared his throat. “We looked all over the house and the gardens.”

“But not outside your property?” I asked.

Their expressions answered me. I snapped my notepad shut; this was a Code Green all right. Code Greens tended to involve daemons, not angels, and the cases were usually open and shut. A kid becomes frustrated with their overprotective parents and runs away. If the parents are angels, they go and look for the kid. If the parents are daemons, well, then things get complicated. Daemons in general have a fear of being discovered by sapiens, with good reason. Because, you know, we look like devils. So when a daemon child runs away, the parents convince themselves the child was caught by crazy normals who are lying in wait, using the kid as bait to catch two grown up devils. SITO is called in a panic, and that’s where I come in. Usually all it takes is a stroll down to the nearest playground or arcade, and the stray is discovered there, having the time of their life.

I had become very good at guessing where a runaway went. Even on the rare occasion when the runaway child was picked up by a normal, the normal was only a concerned passerby. The police were called about a missing child, and SITO intercepted the call. I had never had a case where the runaway daemon kid was actually discovered. But Code Greens continued to happen, even though those same daemon parents probably ran away once or twice when they were kids.

I asked the Evans some more questions, mostly about daily travel habits, places visited recently and the like, until I had a good idea of where the child probably would have gone and then pulled out the photo SITO had on file.

“Is this a recent portrait?”

“Yes, that’s our Margo.” Mrs. Evans voice wavered.

“Don’t worry ma’am, I’ll take care of it for you. This sort of thing happens all the time.”

She burst into tears. I poised awkwardly for flight, as Mr. Evans comforted her. I hated scenes by daemon parents; they were always so touchy and dramatic.

“All right, keep your phone on you, SITO will contact you directly as soon as I locate your daughter.”

Mr. Evans extended his hand, a gesture that surprised and pleased me. It wasn’t often I was acknowledged in a respectful manner. I had run into many full-breeds that would not be so courteous to a halfer. I took the proffered hand, and we shook firmly.

“Thank you,” he said.

Maybe I was wrong about Mrs. Evans’s tail, maybe it was still there. Maybe she hadn’t had had a choice in her horns either.

I picked up Johnny, and to his delight brought him to Franklin Park, one of the biggest parks in Santa Rosa. Also happened to be fairly close to the Evans’s house. It was almost empty except a few younger children running around the jungle gym.

Margo, the lost kid, was there, of course, playing in the sand box by herself. Perfect, I couldn’t have asked for an easier catch, especially with Johnny in tow. Daemon kids were usually wary of strangers, so having another kid with me to break the ice made it easier for me to connect with the runaway.

“Hey, Grub, wanna go dig sand holes?” I asked Johnny.

“Yesh.” Johnny marched over to the sand box. I strolled after him, pretending I was just like any other guardian out in the playground on this fine late spring afternoon. Johnny climbed into the sandbox, careful not to invade the little girl’s space, and settled on a spot where he could dig. I sat on the edge of the box.

“Oh hi, Margo!” I said.

Dirt was smeared across her pretty pink blouse, her curly blond hair was tangled in knots from the outdoors, and one shiny patent leather shoe was off being used as a shovel. I grinned, imagining Mrs. Evans’s reaction to her precious little girl’s grimy appearance. Johnny looked at her curiously.

“Margo, remember me? Sarah?”

Margo shook her head solemnly, her tiny pointed horns peeking out through her wild blond frizz. Johnny, in on my little “secret”, was used to this routine. He lost interest in the dirty princess with horns and began carefully charting out with a stick where his hole would be.

“Your dad, Mr. Evans, is a friend of mine, I’m half-daemon, see?” I leaned over and showed her my horn stubs.

Margo’s blue eyes became round, her pudgy nose wrinkled, and her lower lip trembled. “Daddy will be mad at me.”

“No I just talked to him. He’s not mad, promise.” I moved closer.

“I just wanted to see the park. Billy said it’s so much fun, and it is, I love it. I was making sand drawings.” Her head drooped, and she stared down at her dirt caked hands. “I promise, I didn’t talk to no hom sapens.”

My heart went out to the poor kid. So many daemon and angel parents were overly protective and barely let their children out of the house, which was silly since there were plenty of ways to safely take them to public places. Hats worked well to cover lumps under hair and most parks had low times without a lot of normals. Another good idea was to have play dates with other daemon or angel parents, so there was more than one parent keeping an eye on the kids. There were even small private parks that were run by SITO, if one did a little bit of research. There was no reason for a kid to be locked indoors.

I patted Margo on the back. “Tell you what Margo, you can stay here and play with me and Johnny and I won’t tell your dad, if you promise to go home after,” I said.

“Yesh, we can play and you can ‘elp me dig a ‘ole.” Johnny added solemnly handing over his shove.

Joy leapt across Margo’s face. This was the part of my job I loved. The two children bent their heads over the small indent Johnny had started and begin working on digging with fierce concentration.

Watching them I pressed the buttons on my cell phone. My earpiece crackled.

“Connelly, report.”

“I have located Subject 355. At Franklin Park over by Mendocino and Steele. Subject is confirmed and contained.”

“Ten-four Connelly. We’ll send a unit to pick Subject 355 up and deliver her to her parents. Good work.”

“Oh and Delilah,” I paused watching the kids at play in the fresh air and sunshine.

“Yes?”

“Make the unit take the long way around,” I said.

Delilah gave a low chuckle. “Ten-four. I’ll notify the parents we want to take some precautionary measures so it will be some time before her return, but that Margaret is safe.”

“Thanks,” I said laughing at her response, and hung up.

We played a few games of Frisbee, but little Johnny could barely hold the disc so they went back to the sand box. Although a few years older than Johnny, Margo was a good sport about the hole digging. She was a nice kid, not as spoiled as I would have expected from her parents. I remembered the easy way Mr. Evans had offered to shake hands with me and felt gratified. If only there were more full-breeds like him in the world. I decided I was definitely wrong about Mrs. Evans’ tail, I bet she did still have one.

The afternoon sun shone down on the green grass surrounding the weathered wood of the sand box. Children’s laughter echoed in the distance. Margo and Johnny chattered at each other about all the fascinating things they could do with sand. We stayed as long as I could justify keeping Margo away from her parents.

A tired and sandy, but happy, Subject 355 was returned to her anxious parents a few hours later along with some pamphlets on special species parenting support groups, and the times, places, and ways it was safe to take one’s unique child outside for play.

Meanwhile, Johnny and I picked up Quinn from school. Quinn pouted the whole way home, his face flushed under his freckles. He was upset, even though he got the middle seat, because Johnny had gotten off of school early and got to go to the park. It didn’t seem to matter to Quinn that Johnny got out of school early every Wednesday, it was always unfair, and it was always my fault somehow. It was not until I promised to take the boys to the playground the next day, before Quinn sulkily began his homework.

Later that night at home, I did my own sulking while watching Bruce Willis kick ass in Die Hard. Slurping my microwaved soup, I fantasized about becoming a rebel cop who saves the day like John McClane. Starks would have to eat his words then, and they would be begging me to work the Code Reds. It would be of no use of course, because I would be moved up to work in the bigger and more exciting work down at San Francisco office. With Bruce’s manly voice yelling in over explosions of sound, and visions of the day I would become just like him, I fell asleep on the loveseat again, this time in my clothes.

The next day I hid in my office avoiding my boss and the new hot secretary. It was a slow day for the CPU, and I spent most of my time on the internet checking out Galina’s social media and looking for signs of a relationship between Starks and Levins in their profiles.

When I couldn’t stand the nauseating feeling from internet stalking, I went up to the second floor with some cookies. Delilah’s office was a comfort zone for me. The fluffy half-daemon was like the grandmother I had never met. My own grandmother, the one on my father’s side died before I was born, and the one on my mother’s side couldn’t know about my existence.

The cookies were for some information about the case Starks had pulled from under me. They worked like magic, and she told me Starks was holding the stalker angel they picked up for questioning, but he was not getting any information out of him. The case was at a dead end, nobody seemed to be able to figure out why the guy was stalking Subject 342. Delilah also told me Starks was going to send Levins to the Burbank Park that afternoon to watch over the kid, because there was no one else available. With that bit of information, an idea formed in my brain. I was available this afternoon. Hastily I excused myself from Delilah’s office and sailed back down to the main floor.

“Hey, Boss?” I knocked hesitantly on Starks’s door.

He was at his desk, scribbling notes on yellow paper. Starks hated keyboards, probably because he treated them like a dog treated a chew toy.

“What do you want Connelly?” he asked. With his dark hair standing up on its own and the same shirt on from yesterday in a wrinkled mess, he looked like he hadn’t slept a wink.

“I just wanted to apologize for my attitude these past couple days. I’ve been having some,” I groped for an excuse. “Some family issues.”

Starks paused in his scribbling and looked up at me. “Your dad being a prick again?”

That sounded good enough. “Uh, yeah,” I said. Back when Starks had been my mentor I had confided in him about my strained relationship with my parents. It surprised me that he remembered.

“Okay, thanks. Anything else? Sorry to rush you, but I’m a little busy right now,” he said.

“Nope, nothing. Nothing at all. I’m not busy. Nothing going on in the CPU today. You need any help?”

He looked at me in disbelief. Understandably an offer of help in an understaffed office brought some suspicion with it.

“Honest Boss, I finished the paperwork for the Code Green yesterday. I’m free as a bird.”

Starks leaned back in his chair regarding me thoughtfully. “Good job on that by the way.”

“Thanks.”

He narrowed his eyes, still staring at me. I straightened attempting to look as cool and collected and mature as possible.

“Okay Connelly, actually we could use some help.”

I contained my excitement, keeping my face rigidly neutral. “Yeah?”

“We have no one to observe Subject 342 this afternoon. San Francisco is sending us a couple agents, and we’ve almost got the Subject’s house and school under twenty-four hour surveillance, but for this afternoon we don’t have a man on him.”

“I wouldn’t mind doing it,” I said, trying not to sound too eager.

“I bet you wouldn’t. Mind you this does not mean you are on the case, and if anything happens you are to report it immediately, and under NO circumstance attempt to deal with it on your own. Are we clear?”

“Crystal,” I said humbly, hiding my elation.

“Fine. Now is there anything else?”

“No, Boss.” I left the office, my plan already half-formulated. This was the chance I had been waiting for. I would prove to Starks I could handle myself on a Code Red.

The Burbank Playground was not as crowded as it had been the other day, probably because there was a breeze and passing clouds in the sky. I was able to park much closer, and could count the number of kids there on both hands. There was no sign of Subject 342.

Anxiously I laid out the blanket on the grass and waved to Quinn who was off and running toward the jungle gym. Johnny, of course, set to digging. They could entertain themselves like that for hours.

Usually when I took the boys to the park, I was able to relax, but this afternoon I was too tense. I worried a thread at the edge of the blanket, my mind full of possibilities. Subject 342 had to come here after school. Starks said every Tuesday and Thursday the kid’s mother brought him to the playground. Just my luck today would be the one day they didn’t come. The afternoon dragged by as I kept one eye on the boys and the other out for the arrival of Subject 342. As Johnny’s hole grew deeper so did my despondency. Maybe it was too cold, maybe something came up, maybe they went to a different playground.

Then like a bolt from heaven, Subject 342’s blond fro zipped by right in front of me, his heavyset mother panting after him. She caught my startled glance apologetically before calling sweetly after the little boy. Not the tone I would have used, but whatever. To my surprise the kid actually stopped and returned back to her. They settled down on a picnic bench just out of hearing. As she rubbed sunscreen on his face he wriggled and squirmed. I could understand why his mother brought him to the park regularly. Watching his bouncing energy made me tired.

Smiling I leaned back on the blanket and relaxed. I wasn’t going to miss my chance. I looked over to where Johnny sat, halfway out of his hole. The time would come to send in the troops.

I waited as long as I could stand it before striking. My ace was absorbed in his task, but it was time to lay out orders. I knelt down in the sand box next to Johnny. Quinn, swinging on the swing set, was out of earshot. He was a little too old to know what sometimes happened during our outings. It was easy to hide it from him, because he wasn’t that curious about his brother and me anyway when other kids were around. Johnny however, was my bright little grub; he didn’t question the world that I involved him in. He understood I was helping kids, maybe a little different from him, but they were still kids.

“Hey Grub, do you see that kid over on the slide with the really curly blond hair?” I asked.

Johnny peered earnestly over where Subject 342 was racing around the slide with a couple other kids. “Yesh S’rah, you want me to go fr’nd em?” he asked. “Friend them” was a term we used when I wanted Johnny to introduce a kid to me or bring the kid’s parents and me together.

“Yep Grub, go friend him pretty please.” I tousled his hair. Johnny carefully placed his last fistful of sand to one side. Pulling himself up from the side of the sand box, he marched toward the jungle gym. The operation was a go. I settled on a bench to watch Grub work his magic. It didn’t matter how much older the kid was than Johnny, or if the kid was a girl or boy, or if there were more than one, sooner or later Johnny would “fr’nd ‘em.” Subject 342 being a boy and Johnny’s age wasn’t even a challenge.

Within a half an hour I was introduced to Mrs. Smyth, Subject 342’s mother.

“Your boy is so charming and adorable!” The heavyset Mrs. Smyth was perkier than I expected. Her gauzy loose clothing style was a little bright for my taste, with its flaming red and neon purple, but it helped her wear her extra layer well.

“Oh he’s not mine, I’m his nanny. You’re right though, he is a little charmer, aren’t you Grub?” I called out to Johnny.

“S’rah’s the best nanny ever!” Johnny ran over from the playground and gave me a big hug. It was all part of our well-oiled routine, but I could see Mrs. Smyth lap it up. Johnny actually did hug me and say that when we weren’t putting on a show, but it was toned down to a natural enthusiasm.

“Johnny, come on, I wanna play tha slide game you tolds me about!” Subject 342 hollered at us from the top of the smaller slide.

“That’s my boy, Kels,” his mother said.

Johnny looked at me for permission. I gave him a gentle shove. He gave me another hug and ran over to join his new, impatiently waiting friend.

Mrs. Smyth looked at me admiringly. “You really have a way with children,” she said.

I shrugged. “I first became a nanny in college to help pay the bills and enjoyed it so much that I switched my major to Child Development,” I said. From that opener I droned on, giving her the much practiced spiel about my impressive resume, and I could see the judgment that stemmed from my tattoos, clothes, and butch hair give way to respect and interest. This effect I had on parents was why SITO’s Child Protective Services had given me my own office, even though I was never officially promoted to a managerial position. It was also the excuse Starks kept using to keep me out of the CIU.

Once I stopped giving a vocal resume, I carefully switched the conversation to questioning Mrs. Smyth, to prove I was also a caring listener. She turned out to be a pleasant chatterbox, and our talk steered from childcare to the troubled economy, from organic shopping to traveling. I charmed her with anecdotes about my experiences in babysitting, and I could see her relax into the conversation. I knew I had her where I wanted her when she paused thoughtfully.

“You know, my husband and I have been trying to find a reliable babysitter,” she said wistfully, looking at me sideways. “We could afford to pay someone well-qualified.”

I smiled inwardly. She thought she was hooking me into a job. I responded, “I understand, it’s tough these days with so many people looking for work. They think babysitting is just easy money.”

“Exactly!” she exclaimed. “I can’t tell you how difficult it’s been. And Kels really is a special little boy.”

I glanced at her sharply, but she was watching the children playing on the jungle gym.

“He just has a way with people,” she said.

I relaxed, of course she couldn’t know just how special Kels was. SITO would have that on file if she did. I followed her gaze. It seemed for once Johnny was doing what the other kid wanted to do instead of convincing them to dig holes with him. The two of them were now wrapped up in a game of hide-and-go-seek. Kels must be a special kid if even Johnny was charmed by him.

“Kels just loves to play hide-and-go-seek. It’s his favorite game,” she said interrupting my thoughts.

“Johnny’s favorite game is digging holes,” I said grinning.

She giggled.

We watched the kids play in a comfortable silence.

“I don’t suppose,” she began and hesitated.

I didn’t let my eagerness show, but I could just imagine the expression on Starks’s face when I told him who Subject 342’s new babysitter was. I waited patiently.

“Are you fully booked with this current nanny position?”

Hiding my elation, I pretended to think it over carefully. “Well, I could probably work something out.” An idea flashed in my head. It would take a little fancy footwork, but it would be worth it. I continued, “Actually Johnny and Quinn’s mother is taking them on vacation for two weeks at the end of this month. So at the least I could probably work for you during those two weeks and test it out to see if it is a situation that would work.”

Mrs. Smyth clapped her hands together. “Oh that would be wonderful!” She paused, unsure.

I knew what she was thinking. It felt a little convenient.

“Give me your email, I will email you my resume as well as references,” I said, adopting my professional voice. “Also I would very much like it if you, your husband, and little-?”

“Kels.”

“-little Kels and I could all sit down and do an interview before we make any hasty decisions.”

She smiled with delight, and I had the Code Red back in my grasp. We exchanged contact information, and then she apologized because she had to leave to start dinner for her husband. After she left, Kels dragging his feet behind her, I waited to call the boys over. I wanted to take care of something first.

“Connelly, report.”

“Delilah, make sure that Mrs. Wade wins a free trip on a Disneyland cruise, two weeks, end of this month.”

“Do you have authorization?” Delilah was suspicious.

“Come on, please, just trust me on this one.”

There was a pause, then a sigh on the other line. “What’s the contact information?”

I gave Delilah the information and spent the next hour in high spirits. Quinn got more playground time than usual, and Johnny dug the biggest hole to date, with my help.

That evening Mrs. Wade returned from work early. “Johnny, Quinn, guess what?!” she called from the entrance hallway.

The boys bounced out of the kitchen. They were a mess of ice cream sundae makings. I followed slowly after, licking chocolate sauce off of my fingers.

“What Mama!” Quinn wrapped sticky arms around her.

“We’re going to Disneyworld!”

The boys shouted gleefully, jumping up and down. Mrs. Wade looked at me with more energy than I had seen from her in over six months. “It was the strangest thing Sarah. I won a contest from the radio station that I didn’t even know I entered.”

“Wow, that’s lucky,” I said.

“And work didn’t seem to have a problem giving me paid leave. So, I can pay you, but I won’t need you for the last two weeks this month. Is that okay?”

“You don’t need to pay me,” I responded. I was impressed by Delilah’s efficiency; she had made sure there would be no obstacles. Mrs. Wade’s luminous smile was gratifying.

Amidst the revelry Johnny paused and looked over at me. I smiled as he walked over. Leaning down I winked at him. “Good job today Grub, thanks for all the help,” I whispered.

“I knew S’rah did this for us!” he whispered back and threw his arms around me.

I hugged him back tightly; he really was a smart little grub.