Page 36 of The Foul Out

Maybe I was busier than she was, but the honest frustration and sadness in the statement called to me. The grass always seemed greener for the person who wasn’t cutting and watering it.

“Yes, I’m busy and exhausted, and some days, I swear my daughter is sucking the life out of me. But that doesn’t mean you can’t feel just as worn out. Or like your life is being sucked out of you too.”

With a warm smile, Zara nodded. From there, she went on chatting about her kids and life in Boston. Apparently, it was vastly different from LA, where she’d lived for ten years.

She was mid-sentence when my desk phone rang.

Carolyn’s name appeared on the screen, so with a grimace, I said, “Excuse me one second,” and picked up the receiver.

“Sorry to interrupt your lunch, but Kayla from Hope Speaks is on line one. She said it’s about a grant application for Piper. She tried your cell first, but you didn’t pick up.”

“Put her through.” I pulled the phone away from my mouth and said, “I’m sorry, but it’s about Piper.”

Zara waved me off and stabbed another bite of her salad. “Take your time.”

The phone clicked as Carolyn connected the call, and I greeted the person on the other end with a quick hello.

“Hi,” she said, her voice bubbly. “Is this Harper Wallace? I’m calling about your daughter’s grant application with Hope Speaks. I wanted to let you know that Piper was chosen for funding.”

“Oh.” All the air rushed from my lungs, leaving my chest aching. “That’s great.”

“Yes. She’s eligible for ABA and RDI immediately. And then we will work in sensory and equestrian therapies as we find what works best for her. We’ll compile a list of therapists this week, and ABA services will begin on Monday.”

Wow, that was fast. “What will I need to do?”

“Not much,” she chirped. “We’ll set up meetings with Piper so she can meet her therapist. Make sure she’s comfortable. Every professional we work with is thoroughly trained and vetted. You’ll have the opportunity to meet the therapist, but all we need from you is some paperwork.”

“That’s great.” And way too easy. These kinds of grants could be life-changing, sure, but I had been under the impression that though the organization would pay for services, I’d be the one doing the legwork to find therapists and schedule appointments. I’d applied to six or seven. I wasn’t even sure anymore. Maybe this one was different. I jotted the nameHope Speakson a sticky note so I could google it later and refresh my memory.

“You have her listed as attending West Side Elementary.” She went on to list my address and her father’s. “So I’ll need information about childcare so we can schedule therapy for the hours after school. Or we can work with your parenting schedule and have it in your home.”

With a deep breath in, I explained her current day care situation, but warned her that it was temporary.

“We’ll worry about the change in your childcare situation later. For now, we’ll get the ball rolling. It shouldn’t be difficult. Langfield Corp is always great to work with. They even allow us access to their facilities for OT and things like that. So that makes it easy.”

“Oh, good.” I didn’t know what else to say. Because how the hell did she know that off the top of her head? Dylan hadn’t mentioned anything of the sort.

“I’ll email you the forms and additional information. We can chat again later.”

“Absolutely.”

Unease crept through me as I hung up the phone. I could be jaded, and despite my best efforts, I was feeling that way now. Even as I wondered what kind of person looked a gift horse in the mouth like this.

“Good news?” Zara asked.

With a nod, I explained the situation with Piper with probably far more detail than Zara wanted. Though she listened attentively.

“That’s amazing. Dylan is like magic. Everything about Little Fingers makes life easy.” She rested her elbows on the desk and leaned in closer. “I have a request,” she said. “This might seem crazy since we just met. But it’s my birthday next Friday. Hitting the big three-oh.” She rolled her bright blue eyes. “And Asher’s throwing a party. Karaoke at some bar. It’s more his thing than mine.” She waved a hand. “My friends in Boston are few and far between, so the guest list consists of most of the team and WAGs.”

“Wags?”

“Wives and girlfriends. They’re lovely, but most are childless, and I have almost nothing in common with them.” She sighed. “Would you come? Then I’d have someone to prattle on with.”

“Oh.” My heart thumped against my ribcage at the invitation. It had been a long time since I’d been invited to hang out like this. I wasn’t the kind of person others wanted to go out with anymore. And I’d normally turn down invitations like this since the kids were with me the vast majority of the time. When they weren’t, I was usually catching up on housework or sleep. But Sam and Grey had hit it off immediately, and I’d love to find a mom friend who wasn’t intimidated by Piper. Zara had spent time around her, and so far, she hadn’t been fazed. Maybe it was possible.

She sank back into her chair. Her smile remained, but it had gone brittle, forced. “If you think it’s too much, or you don’t want to?—”

“No,” I rushed out. “I’d love to come.”

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