Page 13 of With a Cherry On Top

I tilt my head, watching her as her shoulders drop.

“Fine. I’m scared, obviously. Leaving Daisy to work on this show...” She traces the rim of the glass with her finger. “I just hope it’s a good decision.”

“Well, I’m obviously biased, but I think you’re a great teacher. I’m not eager to share you, but as long as you promise I’ll remain your favorite student...”

“Top three, for sure.”

“Hilarious. The point is, those contestants are lucky to get mentored by you.”

She grins, but then, as if a dark thought flickers through her mind, her expression dims. “I was planning to have a ceremony.”

“A ceremony?”

“For . . . the first anniversary.”

Her father’s death. Of course. “You can do it in Mayfield. Or when you come back, if that’s?—”

“Nobody was willing to come,” she interjects. She swirls the wine in her glass, staring into it. “Dad had a couple of brothers he wasn’t close to, but that’s it. All he left behind is a lot of frenemies.”

In a year of friendship, Amelie has only mentioned her mother once to say they barely speak. But the woman was married to her father at some point. That has to count for something, right? “What about your mom?”

“My mom, not that she’d ever bother to visit, would probably dance on his grave.” She exhales, shaking the thought away. “I decided I’ll just...remember him. By myself. Or, well, with Ian. He grew to like my dad, but let’s be real, he likes everyone.”

I turn on my stool to face her. “I will too. While I didn’t know him, I’ll remember him as the man responsible for a lot of this. Of you.”

She squeezes my hand, grief shadowing her face. I've seen this play out enough times to know that cooking gets her out of this mental space, so I smack the counter and stand.

“You know what? Hand me the butter.”

“Aaron—”

“This will be great, okay? We'll both do great. I’ll be the best private chef this woman could ever dream of, and you’ll come back in a month happy you took this chance. You need it, after the year you had. And it all starts now—with a perfect béchamel sauce.”

Clicking her tongue, she stands too. “As most redemption stories do.”

I grab a clean pot, then turn to Amelie and hold my hand out. Time for the best French sauce to ever grace this kitchen. “Hand me thefuckingbutter.”

I stepinto the preschool classroom, scanning the low tables until I spot Sadie at the coloring station, her tiny fingers gripping a crayon as she concentrates. When she looks up and sees me, her face lights up, and she jumps off her chair. But before she can run over, her teacher, Miss Delaney, gently places a hand on her shoulder.

“Sadie, sweetheart, go get your things in the other room?” she tells her. “I need to talk to your dad.”

Sadie hesitates, looking between us, then drags her feet to the cubby area. A prickle of unease creeps up as Miss Delaneygestures for me to follow her. Impromptu conversations with teachers are never a good sign.

We step into the small office next to the classroom, and she shuts the door behind us. She crosses her arms, her long honey-blonde hair swaying with the motion and her hazel eyes sharp with concern.

“Aaron, I wanted to touch base with you about Sadie,” she begins. “She’s been having a tough time of it lately.”

“What’s going on?” I ask, as if I didn’t know this was coming.

“We’ve noticed she’s been pulling away from group activities more than usual. She’s not talking much, and she doesn’t seem to socialize the way she used to.”

I run a hand through my hair. “Yeah...things have been hard at home.”

“I’m aware of your wife’s...situation. I can only imagine how difficult this must be for the both of you. Sadie’s still very young, but kids are perceptive. She’s feeling the shift, even if she doesn’t have the words to express it.”

“I just...I don’t know what to do,” I confess. “I try to be there for her, keep things normal, but she just...she misses her mom.”

“I know,” she says kindly. “But I do think Sadie could benefit from a little extra support. We have a school counselor who works with under-eights. It might help for her to have another trusted adult to confide in.”