Page 48 of Imperfect Arrangement
“There’s nothing I haven’t seen, Lolo. I was on diaper duty twenty-four seven when you were a baby.”
“Nana, all grandparents do that. They just don’t bring up the pee tally every time they see their grandkids.”
“Then you clearly haven’t met Mrs. Birch. Do you know that old bat sends her grandson home in dirty diapers?”
What just happened? I was seconds away from a full-blown panic attack about the biggest presentation of my life, and now I’m stuck listening to diaper horror stories.
There’s a soft knock on the door, but before I can answer, Nana hollers, “Come on in, Steph! Lolo’s decent. Not like she popped out of you wearing a designer onesie, anyway.”
I slam my brush down onto the dresser, not out of irritation but sheer awe at how Nana can take over any place she walks into as if she’s the queen of the universe. This is my room, my apartment, yet she’s the one making me feel like the guest. Honestly, I wouldn’t mind borrowing that confidence, just for today—especially since I barely recognize myself.
“You look beautiful, Lolo.” Mom’s soft voice cuts through my thoughts as she steps into the room.
I don’t meet her gaze. I can’t. Not when I’m trying to build a fortress of confidence around myself before facing a room full of corporate suits. I can’t afford to second-guess myself right now.
“Yeah, if she’s going for afternoon tea with the Queen of England,” Nana chimes in.
“White suits you, honey. You almost look like a bride,” Mom adds, ignoring Nana’s commentary.
I swipe another layer of concealer over the vines of my tattoos. “Mom, I’m going to a business meeting. Please don’t talk about bridal dresses, I might actually puke.”
There’s a pause, and even without looking at them, I know Nana and Mom are exchanging one of those silent looks, like they’re having an entire conversation telepathically. I used to think it was a mother-daughter thing, but I was never able to do that with Mom, no matter how hard I tried as a kid.
“How are you really doing, Willow?” Mom asks softly, handing me the pearl earrings I borrowed from her last year and forgot to return. “Now that you’re not at the inn as much, I feel like I don’t know what’s going on in your life anymore.”
I focus on the white gems, letting their shine distract me from the weight of her question. “I’m still there on weekends—when we have the most guests. Everything’s fine.”
After our braiding session, Raymond sent me an email outlining all the little details of Quill’s life. The past few days have gone smoother than I expected, and my confidence in my nannying skills has grown with each bit of progress. The truth is, he doesn’t need me for the usual stuff—he has an entire staff for that, and let’s not forget how hands-on he is with his daughter. What he truly wants is for Quill to open up more to life and to people.
Once this presentation goes as planned, I’ve got a whole list of things I want to do with her. I’m going to do my absolute best to help her feel comfortable, hopefully make new friends, and enjoy life. Cherrywood really is one of the best places for that.
“I’m not worried about the inn, Lolo. I’m worried about you.” Mom’s words snap me back to the present.
“There’s nothing to worry about.” I brush her off. “I’m focused on getting Gramps’s land back.”
“And you need to change who you are to do that?” Nana cuts in, eyebrow raised as she points at my arms, now covered by the sleeves of my chiffon dress. All the ink I usually show off is hidden behind concealer.
“Is this coming from the woman who lost her mind when I got my first tattoo?”
“Of course I did! You did something cool before I had a chance to experience it. But now we’re even.” She proudly points to the tiny, barely there black dot on her arm—her “tattoo,” if you can even call it that.
I can’t hold back a grin, remembering how she begged me to take her to the parlor. But the second that needle touched her skin, she howled like she was auditioning for the role of a banshee—and she’d have bagged it, too, because that woman can wail. Now, she struts around like she’s all tatted out, conveniently forgetting she nearly scared the artist half to death.
“It’s a business presentation, Nana.” I sigh, standing to strap on my heels. “There’s a certain…dress code.” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I feel like I’ve betrayed myself. People shouldn’t have to change who they are just to fit in, right?
But before I can spiral, Nana interrupts my thoughts. “Hmm, I only see one good thing about all this. Maybe some handsome businessman will fall head over heels for you in that white dress, and bam! He’s proposing before you even get a chance to say a single word.”
“Seriously? What are you smoking these days?”
Nana cackles. “I’m not smoking anything! It’s the TV. The best love stories happen when you least expect it.”
Mom shrugs, smiling softly. “Sometimes, she’s right. You never know when the man of your dreams might come knocking.”
“Well, good thing I sleep like a rock. No dreams, no love stories,” I quip, grabbing my bag and giving them each a quick kiss on the cheek before making my escape.
I love them, but I’ve got enough on my plate without adding love stories and Prince Charming to the mix. I need to focus. This meeting is everything, and I can’t afford to let my nerves or their romantic fantasies throw me off my game.
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