And all was right with my world.Four years laterI turned my chair, staring across the street, the stress of the last meeting melting away. Sitting at the table in the window of the bakery across the street was my daughter. The light caught her golden curls, her feet swinging furiously as she babbled away to my wife, who was seated across from her. My daughter clutched something in her hand, and I was certain it would be a biscuit, slathered in jam and butter. Like me, that was her favorite.
I grabbed my phone and texted Sunny. She read my text and leaned over the table to Amanda, no doubt giving her my message. Amanda immediately turned to the window, waving wildly. Laughing, I stood close to the window and waved back. I was about to get up and go join them when my phone rang, and with a sigh, I turned away from the window, shooting off another text before answering.
Tell her Daddy misses her and can’t wait to see her.I answered the call, wanting to finish up and head over to the bakery. My family was there, and that was where I wanted to be. I always wanted to be with them.
There were now four willow trees out in front of our house.
The day Amanda Sophie was born was one of the greatest days of my life. When her brother, Chase Gerald, followed a couple of months ago, my life was complete. The house buzzed constantly.
I had hated to return to work, although I knew it was necessary. But I planned on working from home more. Sunny only went into the bakery now every so often. Mandy loved going and seeing all her “friends,” reigning like the little princess she was from her table.
As quickly as possible, I finished up the call and turned back to the window, disappointed to see the table empty. Sunny must have made the visit a short one, and I wondered if Chase was fussy again today. He was far more vocal and demanding than Amanda had been as a baby.
I focused on my work, determined to get it done and head home. My office door opened, and I glanced up, expecting Abby, hoping to see Sunny, confused when the open door was empty. Using my finger, I hooked the edge of the laptop, pulling it down, confusion changing to delight when I saw my daughter peeking through the open door.
“Daddy!” she crowed, bursting in.
I rounded the desk and bent low as she rushed toward me. I caught her in my arms, twirling her the way she loved. Her happy laughter filled the room, making me laugh as well. She always did. She had Sunny’s coloring and stature—tiny and perfect—but my blue eyes. Freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks, and I loved to kiss each one, making her giggle.
She cupped my face with her tiny hands, her eyes dancing. “Hi!”
“Hi yourself.” I looked at the pass dangling from her hands. She loved to be grown up and be the one to swipe the pass to get into the building or use the key at home. Anything to prove she was capable—not only had she inherited Sunny’s looks, she had also inherited Sunny’s stubborn streak. Watching the two of them go head-to-head at times was vastly amusing.
Amanda had been ahead of the curve her entire life. Aware of her surroundings early in life. Walking before she should, talking in full sentences while others her age jabbered. I encouraged her all the time. She constantly amazed me.
I looked toward the open door. “Where is Mommy?”
She pointed behind me. “Da bakery.”
My heart stuttered in my chest. “What? Is Abby with you?”
She furrowed her little brow. “No,” she explained slowly, as if I were the child and she the adult. “I took da key and came to see you, Daddy. Mommy say you miss me. Now you not have to.”
“Amanda Webber,” I said in my sternest voice. “How did you get here?”
“I walked.” She shook her head as if I was slow. “I waited for da little man to say it was okay, and I crossed da street and came upstairs. Just like you taught me.”
I lunged for my phone, unsure whether to laugh or cry. Somehow, while Sunny was busy, no doubt with Chase, my daughter decided to slip away and simply come see me. By herself. Crossing at the crosswalk the way we taught her, waiting for the little man to appear instead of the hand that said stop. She even thought to bring the key.
She thought it out and did it. By herself. At not even four years of age.
We were toast.
My phone rang before I could dial, and I answered without looking who it was.
“She’s here. With me.”
Sunny’s panicked voice stuttered in relief, her words rushed. “Chase needed to be changed. She was eating her biscuit, chatting to Lori. When I came out, she was gone—I thought she went to the kitchen. But she wasn’t there. She took the keys, Linc! She took my keys! I couldn’t find her!” Her voice rose at the end.