Page 10 of Worth the Fall

“I’ll let you know as soon as I speak to her.” Sierra stood up to leave, straightening out her skirt with her hands.

“Sierra, wait. When is your last day?”

“Oh yeah.” She blushed, as if embarrassed to have forgotten that nugget of information. “Three weeks. I know it’s short notice.”

“Three weeks,” I repeated before rubbing my temples to ward off the headache blooming behind my eyes.

Three weeks was no time at all.

Iwalked through thegarage door and into the house, where my favorite person on the planet waited for me.

“Daddy!” Clara shouted as she ran through the living room and hopped into my arms, squeezing my neck as hard as she could.

“You’re choking Daddy.” I pretended like I couldn’t breathe, and she loosened her grip... just a little.

“How was your day? Want to hear about mine?” she said before kissing my cheek with sticky lips.

Placing her little feet onto the floor, I booped her nose before reaching for a paper towel to wipe at my face. “You know I do. Go wash up for dinner, and we’ll talk all about it.”

“Okay. Bye, Glo-Buggy! See you tomorrow,” she shouted.

I went to chastise her for calling Mrs. Green by some crazy new nickname, but Mrs. Green tsked me before I could.

“Don’t. It’s much better than her calling me Mrs. Green all the time, like you do.”

“But that’s your name,” I said.

She shook her head slowly, as if I exhausted her. “My name is Gloria, and you know it.”

“I don’t know, Mrs. Green.”

“Thomas O’Grady. Stop being so serious all the time. Your daughter is adorable, and I find it humorous that she makes up new names for me all the time. Plus, she means no harm. It’s not like she does it to be cruel. She’s creative,” she said with an almost sense of pride, and I felt my ire calm down a notch.

“As long as you’re okay with it.”

The smell of lasagna hit my nose, and I noticed the oven timer was slowly counting down as I glanced over at it.

Mrs. Green was an absolute godsend. She watched Clara every day after school and had dinner cooking by the time I got home. She’d tried to do my laundry once and clean the house, but I’d put a stop to that. I wanted Clarabel to have chores, like I had growing up. If someone else did everything for her, how would she ever learn to do it herself? It was one of those things I always questioned if I was doing the right thing or not. I still wasn’t sure.

“Thank you for dinner. It smells amazing.”

“Well, I know you wouldn’t eat properly if it wasn’t for me, so you’re welcome.” Her tone was teasing, but she had no idea how right she was. Or maybe she did.

On the weekends, Clara and I either went out to Main Street Diner, or sometimes, we got food from the resort restaurant and brought it home. If it wasn’t for Mrs. Green, we would probably eat takeout every night. Much to my dad’s chagrin. The man loved to grill and tried to get us all together at least every other weekend for dinner, but even that had been a stretch lately. The build on Patrick’s house had taken precedence over everything else.

“You’re not wrong. Thank you again. We’ll see you tomorrow.” I walked her toward the front door and watched until she crossed the street and opened her own front door, turning on the hallway light and waving at me through the window.

Yeah, she lived across the street from us, and I was glad she did. If she hadn’t offered to start watching Clarabel, I wasn’t sure who would have done it. I’d actually thought about that a lot over the years. If it wasn’t for Mrs. Green, where would we be?

Definitely underfed and a lot less stable.

The oven buzzed, and I grabbed two mitts, opened the door, and pulled the piping hot lasagna pan out. Cheese bubbled on top, sizzling when it hit the cold air.

“I love when Glo-Buggy Wormy Face makes lasagna,” Clara said as she pulled out her seat at our table and sat down.

“Glo-Buggy Wormy Face?” I said with a laugh.

“She likes it,” Clara informed before I could say anything else.

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