LITMIR.BIZ

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Lurleen to help out in the afternoons, and I can drop them off at school on my way to work.”

      “You’re such a problem solver. That’s why I love you. Here’s the address.” She handed me a slip of paper on Sandler’s Sodas letterhead.

      “You work for Sandler’s?” I asked.

      “Used to. Long story. They are about to make me a very good retirement offer. I have to go.”

      “Do the kids know about this arrangement?”

      “Well, sort of.”

      “Sort of?”

      “I didn’t want to tell them until I was sure about you. They’ll be fine.”

      “I’ll drop you at home,” I said.

      “You don’t need to drop me off. I have an errand to run first. If I’m not home when you get there, Lucie can help you get everything you need. Not to worry.”

      Not to worry. Right. I could feel my shoulders tense—a sure sign that something wasn’t okay.

      Ellie flicked her fabulous hair back from her face and gave me her megawatt smile. “I’ll explain everything when I pick the kids up in a few days.”

      Explaining wasn’t part of Eleanor’s vocabulary. I nodded. I’m no shrinking violet, but with Eleanor I seemed to lose my adult self and become her five-year-old slave again.

      She got ready to leave with a kiss on my cheek and a promise to call in the evening. The sky had darkened and we were in for an afternoon storm. I could hear the first drops on the porch. I offered again to take her wherever she needed to go. She refused.

      “At least take my big umbrella,” I said as she headed out the door.

      Probably to get me out of her hair, she grabbed the umbrella, gave me another peck on the cheek, and darted down the front steps. She headed up the road toward Highland Ave., and I went into action mode.

      That meant calling Lurleen. I explained the situation. Besides being my best friend, she lived a block away. She hadn’t worked since her aunt left her a small fortune and she was always ready to help.

      “Oh, chérie, you know I would do anything for you.” I could envision her twisting one strand of her luxuriant auburn hair. “Anything at all. But children? What do I know about children? They are so little and squirmy.” The usual excitement in her voice took on a new timbre of anxiety. Something I hadn’t heard before.

      “It’s okay, Lurleen,” I told her. “They aren’t babies. They’ve been looking out for themselves their entire lives. I just need a responsible adult to stay with them when I’m at work. They’ll have a great time with you. You’re so much fun.”

      “You think so?” Her voice settled down into a soft southern drawl with French highlights that was music to my ears. Her full name was Lurleen du Trois. I never knew if that was her given name or something she created. I did know her French accent had never seen France, or Quebec for that matter. It was pure Lurleen. “C’est vrai. I can be very amusante when I try. But kids—I’m not sure what kids find amusing. Maybe we could play badminton or croquet or charades. I’ll make a list. And what shall I feed them? Do they eat regular food or do I need to buy something special—like those little fish crackers and alphabet soup?”

      “Regular food will be fine,” I said. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this, Lurleen. Do you have time to stop by tonight and meet them?”

      “Bien sur. Anything for you, chérie. When you make your chocolate chip cookies, will you save some for me?”

      “Of course. How did you know that was next on my list?”

      “My dear girl, you always bake—when you’re happy, you bake. When you’re bored or upset, you bake. I think today you’re worried about your friend Ellie.”

      “I am.”

      Lurleen said she’d stop by around seven.

      I picked the kids up at five in a run-down section of Little Five Points. They didn’t know I was coming and there was no Ellie or babysitter in sight.

      “It’s okay,” Lucie told me. “We don’t need a babysitter. I can look after things.”

      Ellie and I would be having a long discussion about this when I saw her next. We gathered up the few things they had. Jason brought his action figures and Lucie brought her stuffed monkey but only when I insisted. “I’m really too old for that, Aunt Di,” she told me.

      “Well, I’m not,” I said and tucked it in her book bag.

      Lurleen arrived on the dot of seven.

      “I hope I’m not late,” she said and grinned at me. Lurleen was never late. She wore a jaunty beret that sat atop her massive auburn curls, and she stooped to kiss me on both cheeks. Lurleen was six feet tall, slender—a sharp contrast to my five feet of well-rounded flesh.

      “Bon soir,” she said to Lucie and Jason. She knelt down beside them and shook each of their hands with great solemnity. They looked at her as if she might be from another planet.

      “That’s French for good evening,” she explained. “Ah, I see you have the latest action figure, Jason. The Transformer, isn’t it?”

      I could imagine how Lurleen had spent her afternoon—searching the Internet for what little boys liked to play with. That was all it took to hook Jason. He showed her the intricacies of the Transformer, changing it around from human to machine and back to human again.

      Lucie was equally enthralled with her. “I took French once in school,” she said shyly. “But only for a few weeks until we had to move.”

      “Ah, no problem. Or should I say, pas de probleme. We’ll speak French every day, and you’ll catch on in no time.”

      Lurleen’s first encounter with the kids was a glowing success. I had no doubt it would be. Lurleen could charm a cow into giving more milk, a coop full of chickens into laying more eggs, a judgmental mother into being kind to her daughter. When my mother came for my med school graduation—after Lurleen called her and insisted she come—I never heard one word of criticism. Lurleen entertained her, sang my praises. She had my mother laughing out loud, something I’d never heard before. That had been a good visit, two weeks before my mother died of a massive stroke.

      After Lurleen left us, I ran a bath for Jason, who insisted he needed no help in the tub.

      “I’m five years old in two days. I’m big now.”

      I left the door ajar, so I could keep an eye on him.

      I got them tucked in bed by eight and kissed them each good night.

      “Can Her My Only sleep with us?” Jason asked.

      “Of course. Hermione would love to sleep with you. She may jump up on the bed and want to sleep there.”

      Jason grinned.

      “Is that okay?” Lucie asked.

      “Fine with me if it’s fine with you.”

      I closed the door, poured myself a glass of wine, and gave way to my frustration with Ellie. Where was she? She was supposed to call this evening. She’d left her children in a terrible place. Lucie was resourceful but she was an eight-year-old child, not an adult. No child should be left in that flea-bitten apartment alone at night.

      I must have dozed off on the couch. It was midnight when I got the call.

      I grabbed the phone so it wouldn’t wake the kids. “Ellie?”

      A detective corrected me and asked if I knew an Eleanor Winston. Then he asked if he could come over. He already had my address.

      I met him on the porch, so he wouldn’t ring the bell and start Hermione barking.

      “I’m Mason Garrett,”

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