“Don’t forget to put your swim towels in the laundry,” Daisy reminded the kids Wednesday evening as she unlocked the front door and stepped aside as they bolted past her, eager to be home after a longer than normal day at their summer camp. She’d had to stay later at work thanks to a mix-up in the schedule and the place being short-staffed, and now she was simply exhausted.
In the past, she would find happiness in even the simple day-to-day activities at work, but since Gina’d sold the place, Daisy had lost a lot of her previous joy in her work. Now she dreamed of the day she could run things her own way without feeling like just a cog in the wheel. This disappointment, combined with feeling underappreciated—especially after her boss made a comment today about how nice it must be to have someone pay for nice vacations, new cars, and fancy dinners—made it more paramount she put that place behind her. Which was why the bank meeting this Friday was so exciting, on the precipice of making her dream a reality.
Daisy set the mail and the car keys on the small table near the door just as the kids raced back into the front room having, presumably, left their towels in the laundry room next to the kitchen. Jenna successfu
lly managed to grab the remote first, which meant she’d get to choose what the kids watched between now and dinner.
It was their first week back to camp and it was still taking some adjusting for them to get back into their routine, her included. Case in point, the towels they’d used today should have been washed last night after they’d returned home from their night of swimming and dinner over at Jack’s. Only she’d forgotten about the laundry until this morning when it was time to head out and, being a Wednesday, the kids needed towels for their swim day at camp. The wretched smell of chlorine and mildew wafting from the towels had filled her with guilt, not that the kids seemed to mind when they’d stuffed them into their backpacks and headed out the door.
But the past couple of nights, after getting the kids to bed, instead of doing her usual household chores like laundry and cleaning, she’d been sitting at the dining room table. Pouring through application forms and working on things like a profit and loss statement, projected financial statements, a formalized business plan, and all the other forms the bank needed to underwrite the loan. Fortunately, the seminars at the Salt Lake Chamber’s office had prepared her for this and she had some idea of what the forms should include. She just hoped that, with a day off tomorrow and the kids at camp, she’d have it all completed in time for Friday’s appointment at the bank to finalize everything.
A familiar pang of discomfort hit her anytime she thought about Jack helping her get the business loan. She’d only resigned herself to accepting his help because it had been a business agreement—she would pretend to be his fiancée in exchange for him guaranteeing her loan. But now that things weren’t so fake anymore, and they were actually in a relationship, she was less certain about his continuing help in obtaining the loan.
But like before, Jack had reminded her that he would still be receiving something from the deal. His five percent interest. An amount that he was certain was going to be very profitable based on his sampling from a few of her menu options.
She wasn’t so sure. It was still a big risk. If this thing failed, if she went under—and the statistics were not in her favor—then Jack would be on the hook initially to pay all that money back until she could.
It was another hour before she had dinner ready and she was taking a seat with the kids in front of the television. Normally, she’d have them at the dining table, television off, but with it covered in her loan paperwork, she was making a concession.
“Paul, stop trying to push your peas under the lasagna. You’re only making it harder on yourself when I make you finish the entire plate later.”
“But Mom, you know I don’t like lasagna,” Paul whined. “Or peas. I hate the way the meat and sauce are all mixed in with this white glop.”
She stared at his plate, vaguely recalling his previous aversion to the entrée. But when she’d stopped at the store for a quick dinner before she grabbed the kids from camp, she’d only been thinking about something fast and big enough to feed them all. She hated that she was giving him a reheated frozen dinner. It was barely a step up from fast food.
But in between recalibrating from being on vacation pace this previous week, not to mention work and the headache-inducing bank forms, she was barely able to keep her eyes open.
“Fine. You can pour yourself a bowl of cereal,” she said, knowing that if she let him, he’d eat cereal for every meal. Paul hopped up and ran to the kitchen.
“Mom, how come Lily gets to stay at home in the summer and hang out at her own house?” Jenna asked, picking at her own meal.
“Because she has Aggie to look after her,” she said, referencing the kind, all seeing-woman who acted as a pseudo cook/maid/nanny for Lily’s entire life. Damn, she wanted an Aggie in her life, too. “You guys are too young for me to leave you here all alone.”
“I’m eleven, Mom. Most kids my age stay home all alone.”
“Yes, that may very well be, but I just don’t feel comfortable leaving the responsibility of watching your younger sister and brother on your shoulders. Maybe in a year or two.” She took a bite of her own lasagna, trying not to cringe from the bland taste and overly dry layers.
“Aunt Glenda could watch us,” Jenna tried again.
Daisy sighed, the argument familiar. “Honey, I think it’s enough that she watches you guys after school, I’m not sure she’s up for all the work involved in watching you every day, all day, for an entire summer. Now enough. Let’s enjoy our dinner, please.”
“Couldn’t we stay at Lily’s house with her and Aggie?” Natalie asked. “We’d be so good, we wouldn’t fight and we could help Aggie do some cleaning.”
Daisy set her plate down. “What’s the problem? I thought you guys liked the camp?” Well, besides after the first week of going they’d all came down with strep throat, two of them with ear infections, and one a spider bite.
Jenna shrugged. “The counselors can be kind of mean sometimes, and we never get to do what we want to do, and yesterday one of the boys pushed Paul down.”
That she didn’t know and she’d definitely talk to someone tomorrow about yesterday’s incident. But as to the other stuff, not liking the counselor and the schedule, that was just the breaks. Nothing was perfect.
“I know that Lily misses us. And Ollie, too,” Natalie said.
Grr. This was so hard. Made impossibly harder by the fact that Tuesday night, while she and Jack watched the kids playing in the pool, he’d made that exact offer. To let the kids come over and hang out with Lily during the days she worked.
It had been tempting to accept his offer. Lord knew it would help ease the stress on her wallet of paying for the costly service—community center or not. But it was just another example of how she had to be careful. They had a nice system right now—maybe not ideal, but it worked. And with time, it could be revisited when she looked at where she was in a year. But for now, she was keeping the status quo.
“Sorry guys. There’s only a few more weeks to go and then we’ll be back in school.”
Which was true. She was already counting down the days until the third week of August and their lives got back to a more familiar schedule.