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There were a few lingering details about the self-defense tools I wanted to market in the UK. I had found that if the tools were made of plastic instead of metal, we might have a shot, especiallybecause they were keychains. The issue was that they couldn’t actually be used for self-defense, regardless.
The other emails were from instructors asking when they could expect classes to restart after I halted all of them pending the harassment investigation. I didn’t have an answer for anyone, and that fact didn’t settle me.
Heather had emailed me that she spoke with security at the center, and they had promised to send her the footage from the day that the woman reported, on the off chance it had happened then, since the woman wasn’t being very straightforward. I was hoping for answers soon either way.
Still, my thoughts weren’t entirely on the investigation. They drifted in and out, from and to Delia, as they always seemed to lately. She’d been at the house last Wednesday, and I couldn’t stop replaying her interactions with Corinne. She had done well, handling the questions lobbed at her at the speed of a tennis ball to the face.
But still, Corinne had managed to come away from the interaction with no desire for me to date. It had been a letdown, one I hadn’t expected or even considered.
The sound of the front door opening jolted me out of my thoughts. Corinne’s voice rang out from the entryway. “Daddy? You’re home!”
I set my coffee down and walked to meet her. She was still in her school uniform, her red curls slightly disheveled, and her backpack hung loosely from one shoulder.
She looked more excited than I’d seen her in weeks. Her nanny, Lizzy, was trying to coax Corinne into taking the backpack off before untying her shoes, so that it didn’t flop into her face, but Corinne was looking at me with wide eyes and a grin.
Finally, Lizzy gave up and stood up straight, saying, “Someone is very excited to give you some big news.”
“Oh yeah?” I asked, raising an eyebrow and stepping forward to take the backpack off Corinne. “Must be pretty big for you to be out of school already. Why are you home so early?”
She twirled around to let me peel it off her shoulders. “Half-day,” she said quickly, kicking off her shoes. “I told you last week, remember?”
I didn’t, but I nodded anyway. “That’s right. Silly me. So what’s your big news?”
Her eyes lit up, and she bounced on her toes. “I got in! I’m going to be in the winter recital!”
I blinked, blindsided by her announcement. “Wait, what? What recital?”
“The winter recital, Daddy, pay attention,” she said, shrugging as if it were no big deal. But the smile tugging at her lips told meotherwise. “It’s The Nutcracker ballet. I tried out, and they told me I got in!”
“When did you try out?” I asked, looking from her to Lizzy.
“Before we went on break. They said they had to go over the auditions, and they’d have a decision for us when we got back,” Corinne said, and the sentence sounded so adult coming from her mouth that I almost laughed out loud. “And I did.”
“Well, that’s great news,” I said, my heart warming at her excitement. “What made you decide to go for it? You haven’t danced since you were a little kid.”
She hesitated for a moment, her cheeks flushing slightly. “Benny said I should. He said he did it last year, and he had fun, and we might even get to dance together!”
Ah. There it was. The boy. I tried to keep my face neutral, but something must have shown because when I glanced at Lizzy, she shook her head at me slightly, encouraging me to shut my mouth, no doubt.
“She’s really excited,” Lizzy said, driving home the point that I shouldn’t do anything to ruin it.
“Well, that’s great, pumpkin. Do you want a snack?”
“Yeah!” Corinne crowed, following me into the kitchen and chattering about this Benny kid. Benny this and Benny that. I’dthought her crush would have died by now. Wasn’t that how it worked with fifth graders? Apparently, I was mistaken.
“When is the recital?” I asked, snapping her from her Benny talk.
“In a month! We have one month to learn all the moves, and I’m going to do the best because I have a really good memory,” Corinne bragged, hopping up into the chair and watching me pull leftovers out of the fridge. “Daddy…not more turkey, please.”
I held the Tupperware in my hand, wishing I had taken less back home from the Thanksgiving dinner. I was tired of turkey myself. Sighing, I asked, “How about a sandwich?”
“Yes, please. Peanut butter and honey,” Corinne replied in her chirpy voice. “Do you think Delia would want to come to my recital?”
“I thought you didn’t like Delia,” I said warily, pulling out the bread.
“Daddy, I never said that,” Corinne said in a warning voice, watching me squirt honey onto one side. “More, please.”
I looked at her disapprovingly, but put double the amount of honey on anyway. “Fine, I thought you didn’t want me to hang out with Delia.”