Page 79 of Crave Me

“You were the only viable choice,” she explains. “Her dad died a few years back and her brother doesn’t approve.” Her fingertips circle my knee. “You should have seen Anne’s face when I told her you’d be thrilled to pieces to do it. I already ordered your tux—Oh, and guess what? I get to carry Ilona down the aisle.” She motions to the baby Anne is holding. “Anne ordered the sweetest little flower girl’s dress for her, but she’s still not walking so I get to carry her. Don’t worry, we’re going to match.”

“Heaven forbid we clash,” I add, causing her to laugh.

Clifton kneels beside his son, helping him when he appears to struggle to hold the paintbrush. Susanna sits on the couch beside Wren, looking weary.

“Hey, Susanna, where does Gavin go to school?” Wren asks.

She smiles although it seems to take a lot out of her. “We home school. He has so many appointments, it’s hard to find a preschool that will work with his schedule.”

“Does he belong to a play group?” Wren asks, turning to face her.

She shakes her head. “Late afternoon and evenings are the only free time, but by then, most places are closed.”

“So you and him don’t get out at all?”

“We do. Every Friday I try to take him to the park,” Susanna replies, her voice quieting.

She appears uncomfortable and is likely growing defensive. I only see the back of Wren’s long dark hair, but I know she’s smiling. “My Aunt Colleen started a play and parents group about twenty years ago after my cousin Marky was born,” Wren tells her. “Marky’s autistic, and back then services were limited and expensive, not something she and my Uncle Albus could afford since he worked at the docks and she stayed home to take care of Marky.”

“A playgroup?” Susanna asks, slowly. “For autistic children?”

“No, for kids with special needs,” Wren explains. She crosses her legs, adjusting the cuff of her suede leather boots. “It was hard for her, being stuck at home with a kid no one wanted to play with. Marky didn’t mind, my aunt and uncle were his world. But she did. She knew what he could have and wanted him to have it, too. She started it with some church funding and eventually got private grants. It became bigger than she intended, but it helped her connect with other parents going through what she and my uncle were experiencing. They have a mom’s group that meets every Wednesday night with drop-in play care. Moms leave their kids and carpool to a local diner or catch a movie. In the summer they do miniature golf, things like that. Every other Friday is date night for parents with play care provided.”

“Really? I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s because it’s private and out of her home. She never expected it to take off like it did, and didn’t want it to become so big that she couldn’t run it.”

“Is there a waiting list?” Susanna asks.

“Oh, yeah, but I can get you in if you want,” Wren offers.

“Are you sure?” Susanna asks.

“Of course. Not to brag, but I’m her favorite niece, I used to help out during the summers for free.” She reaches for her purse and digs out her phone. Susanna simply blinks at her as she scrolls through her contact list, just as I do every time Wren does something I can hardly believe.

As always, she doesn’t disappoint.

“Hey, Aunt Colleen,” she says when the line picks up. “It’s your favorite niece.”

“Which one?” Aunt Colleen replies, her voice loud and clear.

“The one who helped your soda-bread-loving derriere three summers in a row instead of heading down to the shore with her friends.”

The woman on the other end laughs with her whole heart, very much like her favorite niece. “Oh, that one. Well you can thank me later when you don’t end up with skin cancer and moles with hairs shooting out of them like tentacles. What’s up, Wren? And when are you coming for supper? Your Ma told me you’re seeing some stud with a real job. Bout’ damn time you stopped dating losers.”

She rolls her eyes, ignoring Susanna and I when we laugh. “Yeah, yeah, I’m sure Ma told you all about him. Listen, I have a friend with a four-year-old son who could really benefit from play care.”

Aunt Colleen pauses. “You need him in?”

“I do,” Wren replies, the shift in tone between the two women speaking volumes.

“You got it,” Colleen says. “Just so you know, I’m expecting you for supper next Sunday. Bring your man.”

“Okay, Aunt Colleen. Hold on, Susanna, his mom, is right here. I’ll put her on.”

Wren passes the phone to Susanna. “Hello?” she says, lifting it to her ear. “This is Susanna, Gavin’s mother.” She stands, hurrying into the kitchen when Aunt Colleen asks her if she has a paper and pen.

I turn to Wren, smiling. She shrugs. “I told you. I know people.”

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