Sissy Room

Not bad at all, though it did seem like it moved at a really fast pace. A whole weekend gone in one chapter? Like i said i liked it. Looking forward to seeing more of olivia.

Book 2 - Chapter 23: Back to Theresa   Sally woke sometime in the middle of the night to the sound of Oskar crying. She lay still for a moment, listening intently in the darkness, then turned over and pulled the covers closer around herself. Her mother was in charge, she reminded herself. She glanced at the clock. Two in the morning. Sally groaned softly, closed her eyes and tried to go back to sleep. Oskar kept crying. After another minute, she pushed the sheets away and sat up. It wasn't that she thought her mother couldn't handle him. Of course she could. Sally simply hated hearing him cry. Something about it tugged at her from the inside and made lying there feel impossible. She slipped out of bed and padded barefoot into the hallway, still in her T-shirt and pajama shorts, her diaper plainly visible beneath them if anyone cared enough to look. As she reached the stairs, the door to her parents' room opened below. Adrian stepped out carrying Oskar against his chest. Sally stopped halfway down. Her father was murmuring softly to him, one hand supporting the back of his head while the other rubbed slow circles between his shoulders. Oskar was still crying, but less violently now, his little face buried against Adrian. For some reason, the sight floored her. She had expected her mother. She had not expected to find one of the richest, busiest men she knew wandering the house at two in the morning with a crying newborn in his arms. Adrian looked up and spotted her. A smile touched his face. “Do you need a diaper change too?” Sally's mouth fell open. “Dad!” He chuckled. She shook her head as she came down the remaining steps. There was no hiding the outline of her diaper beneath the shorts anyway, and somehow her father's complete lack of awkwardness about it made the teasing worse and better at the same time. “Okay. First, I'm dry. Second, he's my brother, and I worry when he cries.” Adrian nodded gravely. “Both excellent points.” Oskar let out another unhappy little wail. Adrian turned toward the nursery and held the door open with his shoulder. “Care to give me a hand?” Sally hesitated only long enough to pretend she was still offended. Then she shrugged. “Sure.” And followed him inside. -- “I do take turns, you know,” Adrian said, giving Sally a knowing look. Sally was too busy with Oskar to answer immediately. She carefully unsnapped his onesie while he squirmed and complained, making soft little noises back at him as though they were negotiating terms. “It’s nice to know,” she said at last, still focused on her brother. She opened the diaper, paused, and managed not to make a face. “Whew.” Adrian chuckled. “The smaller the baby, the bigger the mess.” Sally ignored him with dignity. She lifted Oskar’s feet gently, cleaned him up, and worked a fresh diaper underneath him. “There. Okay, buddy. Anything else?” Apparently there was. The moment she picked him up, Oskar folded himself against her chest and settled as though that had been the missing requirement all along. Adrian leaned against the changing table. “Your mom fed him about half an hour ago, but he wouldn’t settle. Then he decided the clean diaper she’d just put on him was an unacceptable state of affairs.” Sally carried Oskar to the armchair and sat down. He curled into her almost immediately, warm and surprisingly heavy for someone so small, his breathing beginning to slow. She looked down at him, then across at her father. “You did a good job, Dad.” “I’m learning.” Adrian smiled. “Your mother still does most of the work.” “And that’s probably how it’s supposed to be.” Sally adjusted Oskar more comfortably against her. “But when he gets angry at you someday, I’ll remind him how well you took care of him at two in the morning.” “Oskar, angry at me?” Adrian raised an eyebrow. “Oh, absolutely. He’ll come up with at least a million reasons. Very convincing theories about how you’re personally responsible for making his life miserable.” “And you’ll be there to defend me.” Sally smiled slyly. “Sometimes.” Adrian nodded slowly. “Right.” Sally looked down at Oskar again, who had apparently decided the family dispute no longer concerned him. “He’ll probably side with Mom anyway.” “Traitor.” “He’s already got excellent instincts.” -- Sally carried Oskar into her parents’ bedroom, cradling his sleeping weight carefully against her chest. In the dim light, the whole thing felt almost surreal: padding quietly across the room in her pajama shorts, her own diaper crinkling softly beneath them, then bending over the crib beside her sleeping mother to settle her little brother inside. She lowered him gently, making sure his head was comfortable before drawing the blanket snugly around him. “Thank you, darling,” Bridget murmured sleepily, opening her eyes just enough to find Sally standing there. Sally smiled. “Night, Mom. Night, Dad.” She slipped out and closed the door softly behind her, then made her way back upstairs to her own room. Before climbing into bed, she stopped by the bathroom. There was at least one advantage to being awakened at two in the morning, she decided as she washed her hands and headed back toward the bed: with an empty bladder now, she had a pretty good chance of waking up dry. Sally pulled the covers over herself and smiled into the darkness. All thanks to Oskar. -- Sally turned over in bed and slowly opened her eyes. Oskar was staring at her. “Oh,” she murmured, blinking herself awake. He lay beside her, barely able to lift his head but apparently perfectly content simply to study her face. He wore nothing but his diaper, and from the warmth already gathering in the room, Sally could tell it was going to be a beautiful summer morning. “Hey, buddy.” She reached over and gently touched his cheek. Oskar seemed to approve, stretching with a slow, satisfied little wriggle that made Sally smile. “Morning, darling. Coffee?” Sally looked up. Her mother was sitting on the edge of the bed, watching the two of them with unmistakable amusement and holding out a mug. Sally pushed herself upright, then glanced down and realized she had kicked off her pajama shorts when she crawled back into bed at two in the morning. Her diaper was plainly visible. At least it was dry. She accepted the coffee. “Thank you.” “Oskar was wondering whether you’d join him in the pool this morning.” Sally took a sip and looked solemnly at her brother. “And you communicated all that with your beautiful, busy little mind?” “He did,” Bridget assured her. “At least, that was my interpretation of the intense scanning gaze. I think he was trying to determine what had happened to his midnight caretaker.” Sally chuckled. “He was crying. I just wanted to see what was wrong.” “I know.” Bridget’s voice softened. “But you’re not going to get much sleep if you come downstairs every time he cries.” Sally shrugged slightly. “You do.” “I do. And your father does. We’re the parents. We’re a team, and we take turns.” Sally finished her coffee, set the mug carefully on the bedside table and reached for Oskar. “Come here.” She gathered him against her chest, and he settled there without protest. Sally breathed out slowly. “It’s nice to be home.” Bridget smiled. “The yacht couldn’t have been too terrible.” Sally made a face. “It was basically a five-star hotel that happened to float. It was amazing. Lots of fun. But it was also... big.” “Didn’t satisfy your sense of adventure?” Sally hesitated. “This is going to sound incredibly bratty.” “That has never stopped you before.” “Mom.” Bridget smiled innocently. “There was this old yacht nearby. Madiz. Beautiful thing. Dark hull, old-fashioned lines. It looked like Onassis and Kennedy might walk out onto the deck at any moment.” Bridget’s expression softened almost wistfully. “Sounds like you’ve developed an acquired taste after all.” Sally chuckled and adjusted Oskar against her. “I think I have. Don’t get me wrong, I had a blast. But every time we passed Madiz, my heart sort of went with her while we carried on in our mega-yacht.” “And I suppose you’d want Hemingway and Churchill aboard too, just so you could discuss history and politics over dinner.” Sally laughed. “I’d settle for a book and a quiet deck while the boat puttered across the ocean.” “Very modest.” “I try.” Bridget stood. “Until somebody provides you with your century-old yacht, how about the swimming pool?” Sally looked down at Oskar. “Yeah. If he’ll have me.” She nuzzled the top of his head. Oskar seemed entirely amenable to the arrangement. Bridget surveyed her daughter. “Right, then. Diaper off, bathing suit on. I don’t have a swim diaper big enough for my oldest child.” Sally pressed her lips together and looked at her mother. “Yeah. That would make the style statement of the century.” She shook her head, unable to suppress a grin. “Maybe Style Global could syndicate it.” -- On the way to the pool, Sally spotted her father outside with Roberto, Mia’s husband and the caretaker, standing beside the black Ferrari F40. Its rear engine cover was raised, and both men were looking into the engine bay with the concentration of surgeons. Sally waved. Adrian glanced up and returned it. She looked at the Ferrari once more as Bridget ushered her along. “I have a feeling I’m going for a ride in that later.” “You can ask your father after he finishes pretending he’s a mechanic.” “He knows cars.” “He knows how to pay people who know cars.” Sally laughed and followed her mother into the covered pool enclosure. Renée and Laia were already there, chatting beside the water and apparently prepared for the morning’s double session. Sally brightened when she saw Renée and crossed immediately to hug her. “How’s Zurich treating you?” Renée laughed as Sally untied her bathrobe and draped it over a bench. “The Swiss are far too polite for my own good. It’s refreshing having Theresa and Jana around.” Sally grinned. “I’ll let them know how much you appreciate their rudeness.” “You will do nothing of the sort, kid.” Renée looked genuinely horrified, which only made Sally laugh harder. Bridget brought Oskar toward the shallow end while Renée stepped into the waist-deep water and reached out to help. Between them they eased him gradually into the warmth, supporting his head and body securely while leaving his face well clear of the water. Sally crouched at the edge, completely captivated. Oskar’s initial expression suggested deep suspicion about this latest development in life. Then his legs moved. He kicked again. And again. The suspicion disappeared. “Oh, look at him,” Sally whispered. Oskar wriggled happily against Bridget’s hands, little arms moving through the water while Bridget smiled down at him. “He likes it.” “Of course he does. He’s brilliant.” “He’s kicking his legs, Sally.” “Exactly. Brilliant.” From farther down the pool, Laia put her hands on her hips. “Sally.” Sally ignored her. “Oskar, look at you!” “Sally.” She finally glanced over. Laia pointed toward the lanes. “Give your brother some space. Let’s see some laps.” Sally looked offended. “I just got here.” “So did I.” “I’m bonding.” “You’ve been bonding since two in the morning.” Bridget laughed. Sally rose reluctantly from her crouch. “Fine.” She walked toward the deeper end, cast one last glance at Oskar, then dove cleanly into the water and started her warm-up laps. Laia followed along the side of the pool, watching her stroke. “Good. Relax your shoulders. Longer reach.” Sally turned neatly at the wall and pushed off again. Behind her, she could hear Bridget and Renée talking softly to Oskar. Laia clapped once. “Come on, Sally. Show your little brother what you can do!” That changed everything. Sally accelerated immediately. Laia laughed. “Oh, so that’s what motivates you.” Sally reached the wall, turned and came back faster. When she surfaced at the shallow end, slightly breathless, she looked toward Oskar. “Did you see that, buddy?” Oskar stared back at her with solemn concentration. Sally nodded. “I know. Impressive.” Bridget raised an eyebrow. “I think he was looking at the ceiling.” “He knows what he saw.” -- “Here, take the baby.” Bridget held Oskar out to Sally, who accepted him automatically and tucked his damp little body against her chest. “Your turn to babysit,” Renée said with a wink. Sally looked from Oskar to the three women. “Like... on my own?” “Laia is going to make your mother do some actual swimming for once,” Renée said. “I’ll stay here and make sure she survives.” Bridget rolled her eyes. “Just dry him properly, change his diaper and put him in a onesie. He’ll be perfectly fine.” Sally nodded, adjusting Oskar more securely against her. “Okay.” Apparently, she was the designated babysitter now. Wrapped in her bathrobe, with Oskar bundled warmly against her, Sally made her way back into the house and upstairs to her apartment. He seemed entirely amenable to the arrangement, blinking around calmly while she laid him on the changing mat and carefully dried every fold she could find. “Pool day is exhausting, huh?” Oskar offered no objection. She changed him into a clean diaper, snapped him into a soft onesie and picked him up for a quick inspection. “There. Respectable again.” Once she was satisfied that he was warm and comfortable, Sally set his bouncer securely on the floor just outside the bathroom and strapped him in. “Okay, buddy. My turn.” Oskar looked up at her solemnly. “I’ll only be a minute.” Sally untied her robe, then paused and pointed at him. “And don’t look.” She giggled at herself, pulled off her bathing suit and stepped into the bathroom for a quick shower, leaving the door open so she could see him from inside. Oskar remained safely strapped into his bouncer, apparently far more interested in studying one of his own hands than in whatever his sister was doing. Sally smiled through the open doorway. “Good boy. Excellent boundaries.” -- Sally had slipped into lounge pants and a loose T-shirt. Barefoot, with her hair still damp from the shower, she held Oskar comfortably against her as she stepped out of the elevator. “Let’s see if we can find Dad,” she murmured for his benefit. Then, because simply walking through the house apparently wasn’t entertaining enough for either of them, she decided to make an adventure of it. “Is Daddy in the living room?” Sally poked her head dramatically around the doorway and looked from one end of the room to the other. “No…” Oskar remained perfectly content in her arms, one fist curled into her shirt. “Maybe…” Sally lowered her voice conspiratorially. “The kitchen?” There was absolutely no reason Adrian Weiss would be hiding in the kitchen on a Saturday morning, but Sally carried Oskar in anyway. Mia looked up and immediately smiled. “Hello, Sally. Hello, little Oskar.” Sally grinned. “Morning.” “Are you hungry?” “Oskar was suggesting snacks, but I told him he needs to save his appetite for lunch.” Mia laughed. “And do you want a snack, Miss Sally?” Sally shook her head. “We’re looking for Dad.” “He’s in his office.” Mia paused, then added with unmistakable purpose, “I’ll bring you something to eat. You didn’t have breakfast.” Sally opened her mouth, reconsidered, and smiled. Apparently skipping breakfast ranked somewhere between a serious offense and a medical emergency in Mia’s household. Snacks were coming whether she requested them or not. “Thanks, Mia.” She continued across the living room, patting Oskar gently on the bottom as she went. “I hope Dad’s not working,” she murmured to him. Oskar nestled more firmly against her. Sally nodded as though he had answered. “Exactly. We’ll deal with him if he is.” -- Adrian looked up from his desktop computer as Sally appeared in the doorway with Oskar in her arms. “Hi.” He sounded genuinely pleased to see them. “Busy?” Sally chirped, trying not to let the frown in her voice show too clearly. “Sort of.” Adrian shrugged, still grinning at whatever was on the screen. He checked his watch and smiled. “Almost lunchtime anyway.” “It’s Saturday,” Sally pointed out. Adrian turned toward her, pressed his lips into an innocent smile and motioned toward the monitor. Sally stepped closer, Oskar still clinging comfortably to her shirt, and immediately broke into a grin. “Cars.” Adrian shrugged again. “Live auction.” Sally’s eyebrows shot up. “Are you buying a car?” “Just watching.” That answer seemed acceptable. Sally relaxed and leaned closer to inspect the listing currently on the screen: an older Porsche, photographed from every conceivable angle while bids ticked upward beside it. She studied the specifications. “Tiptronic.” She huffed dismissively. “Not for me.” Adrian gave her an amused sideways glance but wisely offered no defense of the transmission. Sally shifted Oskar in her arms and carefully coaxed his little fist loose from her shirt. “Here.” She handed him across the desk. Adrian accepted his son automatically, though his eyebrows rose. “Oh?” “Technically, I’m responsible for him while Mom’s in the pool.” Sally settled Oskar into his father’s arms. “But I trust you.” “You trust me,” Adrian repeated with a chuckle. “Sometimes.” Adrian adjusted Oskar comfortably on his lap and looked at Sally with growing curiosity. Sally walked around to the leather chair opposite the desk and sat down. For a few seconds, neither of them said anything. -- Adrian closed the auction page and turned away from the computer, giving Sally his full attention. “What’s on your mind?” Sally frowned slightly. She had known she wanted to ask him, but only now realized she had never decided how to begin without sounding either intrusive or frightened. After a moment she gave him a small, sheepish smile. “Mom said you went to the doctor.” Adrian nodded. “She told you it was a routine check?” “Yes. One that was overdue.” Adrian leaned back slightly, Oskar resting comfortably against him. “I can hardly be blamed for putting my own check-up off, Sally. There was rather a lot going on.” “I’m not blaming you,” she said softly. That changed something in his expression. “How did it go?” she asked. “Did your mother ask you to talk to me?” Sally shook her head. “Otto did. Sort of.” Adrian closed his eyes briefly. “He did?” “He asked about you. How you were feeling, whether you’d had the check-up. I realized I didn’t actually know.” Adrian drew a slow breath. “The check-up went well.” Sally waited. Normally that would have been enough. Adrian knew it, and Sally knew it. It was the sort of concise answer he had spent a lifetime giving when he considered a matter settled. He looked down at Oskar. The baby had grown heavy and quiet against his chest, one tiny fist curled into the front of Adrian’s shirt. Adrian adjusted him almost unconsciously, supporting his head more securely with one hand. A moment earlier, telling Sally that everything was fine had seemed perfectly adequate. Now it did not. “Everything they were seriously concerned about came back clear,” he said. “The cardiac checks were good. Blood work, prostate markers, kidney and liver function—nothing there caused the doctor any concern.” Sally’s shoulders relaxed slightly, but she continued watching him. “My blood pressure is too high,” Adrian continued. “Not dangerously high, but consistently higher than it should be. My cholesterol is also higher than he wants it.” Sally nodded. “Blood sugar is fine. Triglycerides are fine. Most of the numbers are good. But he doesn’t want me looking at the good ones and using them as an excuse to ignore the others.” “And the headaches?” Adrian was quiet for a moment. “They don’t appear to be anything sinister. The most likely explanation is a combination of stress, blood pressure, too little sleep and too many hours in front of screens. Possibly all of them together. There was nothing neurological that worried him.” “Okay,” Sally said quietly. He could hear the relief in that one word. “He wants me monitoring my blood pressure at home. More regular aerobic exercise, some strength work, better sleep, less time sitting behind a desk. And he wants me to take the headaches seriously enough to notice if anything changes instead of simply working through them.” Sally listened without interrupting. Adrian glanced down again as Oskar stirred against his chest. He ran a hand slowly along the baby's back until he settled. “The doctor isn’t worried about me, Sally,” he said after a moment. “Not in the way I think you’re worried.” She met his eyes. “But he was quite clear about something else. This is the point at which I should deal with these things, while they are risk factors and not diseases. Blood pressure can be treated. Cholesterol can be managed. Sleep and exercise are things I can do something about. Ignoring all of it because I happen to feel reasonably well would be foolish.” Sally looked briefly at Oskar and then back at her father. Adrian saw it. He said nothing. For several seconds the office was completely quiet. The child in his arms was barely beyond the age he should have been born, while the girl sitting opposite him had already been designated to inherit responsibilities Adrian himself still carried. Otto’s question had not frightened Sally because she suddenly believed her father was ill. It had unsettled her because she had discovered there was something about him she did not know, and because she was old enough now to understand that his health was not merely his private concern. Adrian looked at her differently after that. “I’m fifty-eight,” he said finally. “There is nothing in those examinations suggesting that I’m seriously ill.” “I know.” “But I also understand why you’re asking.” Sally said nothing. Adrian rested his hand over Oskar’s small back. “I have treated being healthy as though it were simply the default condition. As long as nothing hurt badly enough to stop me, I carried on. That probably made sense to me when I was thirty-five. It makes rather less sense now.” Sally nodded slowly. “I just want you to take it seriously.” “I will.” There was no hesitation in the answer. Adrian looked down at his sleeping son for a moment before returning his gaze to Sally. “I have reasons to.” She understood what he meant without either of them putting those reasons into words. “Good,” Sally said. Nothing dramatic followed it. She did not lecture him or ask for promises he could not make. She simply sat there, looking relieved enough that Adrian understood how much the conversation had mattered. He reached across with his free hand and caught her gently behind the neck, drawing her forward until he could kiss her forehead. “I’m fine,” he said quietly. “And I intend to do what the doctor told me.” Sally nodded. “That’s all I wanted to know.” Adrian studied her for another moment before settling back into his chair, Oskar still asleep against him. He suspected it was not quite all she had wanted to know. But it was enough. -- Mia knocked lightly on the already open door and stepped into the office. “Miss Sally hasn’t had her breakfast, Mr. Weiss. I brought her something to snack on.” Adrian looked distinctly amused by this development. Mia crossed to the small table beside the corner sofas and set down a platter of salami, jamón, cheese and thick slices of ciabatta rubbed with tomato and glistening with olive oil. An orange juice followed for Sally, then a bottle of beer for Adrian. “Enjoy.” “Thanks, Mia,” Sally said. Adrian carried Oskar over to the sofa and settled beside Sally while she surrendered to the inevitable, laid a slice of jamón across the tomato bread and took a bite. “You need to take care of yourself,” Adrian observed. “Beginning the day without breakfast...” He shook his head disapprovingly. “Tsk, tsk.” Sally frowned at him. “Not funny, Dad.” “Even Oskar doesn’t skip meals. Do you, little guy?” Adrian looked down at his son as though expecting confirmation. “You have no shame,” Sally said. She took another bite, chewed, then pointed the remainder of the bread vaguely in his direction. “You have two swimming pools. One of them is covered and heated. You have two tennis courts, and somehow one of those is covered and heated too. You hired a trainer. You have a nurse around half the time. Exercise should not be a logistical challenge for you.” She swallowed. “Take advantage of your assets.” Adrian nodded, accepting the point. “I am officially redirecting some attention toward physical activity. And away from work.” Sally looked up. “You’ve got Theresa.” “I’ve got Jana,” Adrian corrected. “Theresa has her own things to deal with, and I don’t want to load too much onto her too quickly. She tried to come back too fast once already. It took more out of her than she admitted.” Sally nodded. “That’s true.” She hesitated. “But I think you’re being overcautious now.” Adrian glanced at her. “Did Otto tell you that too?” The irony was there, but only faintly. Sally shook her head. “Theresa did.” She paused. “She’s my best friend.” That made Adrian sit a little straighter. He knew what Sally meant by it. Theresa was not simply an employee Sally happened to like. The two of them had been through hell together and had come out the other side still looking after one another. Whatever professional titles appeared beside Theresa’s name, there was a relationship underneath them that Adrian had no intention of trivializing. “Jana is doing a very good job,” he said after a moment. “The problem isn’t that I don’t have enough help. There are plenty of things I continue doing simply because I get absorbed in them.” Sally watched him thoughtfully. “It’s not lack of help,” she said gently. “It’s that you don’t always let go.” Adrian looked at her. Sally took another bite of ciabatta and let him think about that without pressing. Before he could answer, Bridget appeared in the doorway. She had changed after swimming and, like Sally, was now dressed in comfortable lounge pants and a loose T-shirt. “I think it’s time for the baby to eat.” Adrian looked down at Oskar, then across at Sally. “Which baby?” Sally rolled her eyes. Bridget glanced pointedly at the half-demolished platter in front of her daughter as she reached for Oskar. “One of them is already feeding.” “Thanks, Mom,” Sally said with a chuckle. Adrian beamed. For all the seriousness of the previous half hour, some family traditions apparently remained perfectly healthy. -- “Back to Theresa.” Sally’s tone made it clear that Bridget’s interruption had merely paused the conversation rather than ended it. Adrian took a sip from his beer, set the glass down and wiped a trace of foam from his lip with the cloth napkin. “I miss having her around,” Sally said plainly. Adrian watched her attentively. “You have a very good group of people supporting you.” “I know.” Sally nodded quickly. “And I’m not complaining about any of them. Elena gives me more insight into my trust, the businesses and the foundation than I ever imagined I’d have at sixteen. She’s priceless. Jana is a great tutor, a friend, and really good company. Adam is excellent at security, and he knows exactly how to handle me without making me feel handled. I’m comfortable with him.” She paused, searching for the words. “But Theresa connects all of it somehow. What I do and who I am.” Sally frowned slightly. “She’s like... an older sister, maybe. A soulmate sounds ridiculous, but something like that. She knows when I need an assistant, when I need protection, when I need advice, and when I just need somebody who knows me.” She drew a breath. “These last few months, even with everybody around me, I’ve kept feeling like something was missing.” Adrian already knew the answer. “And it’s Theresa.” Sally nodded. She reached for the last two slices of Manchego, arranged them carefully over the remaining piece of tomato-rubbed ciabatta, and took a bite while Adrian leaned back and crossed one leg over the other. “You want her back.” “If I can.” “Of course you can.” The answer came so readily that Sally looked at him suspiciously. “Don’t you need her?” Adrian chuckled. “I do. But that doesn’t mean I own her calendar. We’ve shared Theresa before. We can work something out again.” Sally’s expression softened into a smile. “Thanks, Dad.” Adrian nodded. For a moment he simply watched his daughter finish her breakfast. He thought back over the morning: Sally appearing at his office with Oskar in her arms, placing the baby into his lap almost before the conversation began, then carefully working her way from his health to the people around him and finally to what she herself wanted. Perhaps none of it had been accidental. Perhaps Sally had understood perfectly well that holding his infant son while discussing blood pressure, longevity and the future might make him listen differently. If so, Adrian found that he didn’t mind. There was nothing underhanded about it. She had chosen her moment, understood her audience, brought the facts she had, and spoken clearly about what mattered to her. Adrian felt the beginnings of a smile. His daughter was learning. -- Sally even skipped her afternoon siesta, unwilling to waste a minute of the weekend. After a light lunch, the family had drifted back into the living room and settled into the sort of lazy Saturday afternoon Sally had missed more than she realized, with coffee on the table, chocolates serving as dessert, and nobody in any particular hurry to go anywhere. “The F40 is ready whenever you are,” Adrian said, teasing her from across the room. Sally brightened immediately. She finished the last of her espresso, reached for a chocolate from the tray on the coffee table, and then looked at him thoughtfully. “How about a round of tennis first?” Adrian paused. His eyebrows went up, and for just a second Sally caught the hesitation before he could hide it. Bridget noticed too. She gave him a light elbow in the ribs. Adrian looked at his wife, then back at Sally, and nodded. “All right. Only if you take it easy on me.” Sally smiled. “Deal.” -- Half an hour later, Sally stepped out of the elevator dressed for tennis, racket in hand and her hair pulled back as neatly as its new length allowed. “Dad’s already at the court,” Bridget called from the living room. Sally glanced in. Her mother was settled comfortably on the sofa with Oskar feeding in her arms, the television murmuring softly in the background. Sally raised a hand. “Be gentle with your father,” Bridget added. “I will,” Sally laughed, and headed outside. Adrian was already on the covered court when she arrived, stretching near the baseline with considerably more concentration than the task seemed to require. Sally smiled to herself but said nothing. He looked different away from the office, dressed simply in shorts and a polo shirt, racket turning experimentally in one hand as though he were trying to remember how familiar it was supposed to feel. They began slowly. Sally stood across from him and sent an easy ball over the net. Adrian returned it cautiously, a little late, but cleanly enough. She sent another. Then another. For several minutes they did nothing more than rally from the middle of the court. Adrian’s first few shots were stiff. He seemed to think too much about where his feet should be and not enough about simply moving them, but the rhythm gradually returned. Sally kept the balls comfortable, resisting the temptation to chase difficult angles or add pace. She was still learning herself, and Laia’s instructions ran through her mind as she moved: watch the ball, prepare early, follow through. Adrian sent one wide. Sally let it go. “Sorry.” “It’s fine.” She collected another ball and served it gently back into play. Soon Adrian began moving more freely. His forehand was stronger than she expected, although his backhand occasionally collapsed into something halfway between a tennis stroke and an attempt to defend himself. Sally adjusted without comment, keeping the exchanges long enough for him to find his footing. When they eventually decided to serve properly, Sally took the first turn. She bounced the ball twice, tossed it, swung— —and drove it directly into the net. She frowned, retrieved another ball, and tried again. The second toss went too far forward. Sally stretched after it and sent the ball somewhere near the service line on the wrong side of the court. Adrian waited patiently. Sally took a breath and reset. Her third attempt cleared the net. Barely. Adrian returned it, but the ball caught the frame of his racket and flew sideways. They both stopped. Then Sally smiled, and Adrian smiled back. There was no score worth keeping. They continued anyway. Some rallies lasted six or seven shots and felt almost respectable. Others ended immediately with Sally finding the net or Adrian mistiming a return. Once Sally produced a serve she was genuinely proud of, only for Adrian to watch it bounce past him without moving quickly enough to reach it. The next time she deliberately took a little pace off. Adrian noticed, but said nothing. A few minutes later, when Sally had to stretch awkwardly for a low ball, Adrian stopped rather than forcing her to chase the next one. She straightened, rolled one shoulder, and nodded that she was fine. They picked up again. Little by little, the game became less about tennis and more about finding a comfortable pace between them. Adrian was trying to remember what his body had once known. Sally was trying to turn lessons into instinct. Neither wanted to embarrass the other, and neither needed to prove anything. By the time another of Sally’s serves clipped the top of the net and dropped back onto her own side, she simply lowered her racket and looked across at him. Adrian was breathing harder now, though not badly. Sally watched him for a moment. He nodded. She nodded back. They gathered the balls and started another easy rally. -- “Now I feel more in my element,” Adrian said with a satisfied nod as he guided the gated shifter into the next gear with practiced precision. Sally grinned. Even with her father observing Swiss speed limits with irritating discipline, there was something inherently exciting about riding in the black F40. Maybe it was the rawness of the car, the mechanical noise surrounding them, the rush and whistle of the twin-turbo V8 just behind their seats, or simply the reactions it produced everywhere they went. It was a bright afternoon, and the eastern shore of the Zürichsee had filled with a lazy procession of motorcycles, convertibles and weekend traffic following the scenic road along the lake. There was nowhere sensible to pass, so Adrian seemed content to entertain himself by working through as many gears as circumstances allowed, changing up and down with unnecessary precision whenever the traffic gave him an excuse. Sally maintained a permanent half-smile behind her sunglasses. Her black Gulfstream cap sat snugly over her short shag, keeping what remained of her hair under control in the warm air. “A little pointless taking this monster out for a ride,” she called over the growl of the engine. At a traffic light, she noticed several phones pointed toward the Ferrari from the pavement and another from a car beside them. She barely registered them anymore. Car spotters had gradually become background scenery, something she had learned to filter from her attention unless they became intrusive. “I’m afraid Oskar rather cancelled our trip to Spa,” Adrian said. Sally knew immediately what he meant. They had talked about taking the F40 to Spa-Francorchamps in Belgium, where Adrian could properly exercise both the car and whatever remained of his own track-driving ambitions. “Maybe next season,” he added. Sally huffed. “Not much fun sitting in the passenger seat watching your valiant efforts. Eighteen feels very far away.” “There’s always Laguna Seca,” Adrian said with a chuckle. “The SVJ would appreciate it. And it would be a good place for you to learn.” Sally smiled. That was true. There always seemed to be another option, she reflected as several motorcycles slipped through an opening in traffic and passed them, helmeted heads turning almost in unison toward the rare black Ferrari. Adrian eventually turned into the Meilen ferry terminal just as the ferry was pulling away from the dock. “We have ten minutes before the next one,” he announced confidently, with absolute faith in the Swiss ability to make reality conform to a timetable. Sally spotted a kiosk nearby. “Can I grab something?” Adrian checked the time. “Nine minutes and thirty seconds.” Sally laughed as she opened the door. “You want anything?” “I’m fine.” She climbed out. “Your loss.” -- By the time Sally returned with her Orangina, the black F40 had acquired an audience. A loose semicircle of curious people had gathered around it, many of them motorcyclists she recognized from the road, admiring the Ferrari without getting too close. They stepped aside politely when Sally approached. She opened the passenger door and slid back into her seat. “Audience?” she asked, taking a sip of Orangina. “The usual.” Adrian started the engine, immediately drawing a few more glances, and waited while the attendants began ushering the line of cars onto the next ferry. When their turn came, he eased the Ferrari forward and followed a Volkswagen minivan onto the vehicle deck. Once the ferry had filled with the usual Saturday-afternoon mixture of cars, motorcycles and families crossing the lake, Adrian and Sally climbed out. “Ten minutes to Horgen,” Adrian announced, glancing at his watch. Sally frowned and nodded. So much for a leisurely lake cruise. Her attention wandered almost immediately to another car parked several spaces away. Adrian followed her gaze. “Jaguar XK120,” he said. “Like it?” Sally nodded and wandered closer. The silver Jaguar could hardly have been more different from the black Ferrari beside it. It sat low and graceful, all sweeping curves and polished chrome, looking less as though it had been engineered than drawn. “1952,” said an older gentleman standing beside it. He had noticed Sally studying the car and apparently overheard them speaking English. Sally slowly walked around the front. “It looks...” She searched for the word. “Like art.” “Ja!” The man smiled broadly. “British cars were always about elegance. Nobility. Taste.” Sally grinned. “It must be wonderful to drive.” She leaned slightly closer to look inside but kept her hands carefully to herself. The gentleman watched her for a moment. “You would like to sit?” Sally looked up, surprised. “In it?” He laughed and gestured toward the door. “Of course.” Sally glanced instinctively at her father. Adrian merely smiled. She suddenly became shy. “Yeah... I’d love to.” The owner opened the door carefully, keeping it clear of the motorcycle parked beside them, and Sally eased herself down into the Jaguar. The interior enveloped her in red leather. She froze for a second, taking it all in: the broad steering wheel, the simple instruments directly in front of her, the long gear lever rising unapologetically from the transmission tunnel. Nothing seemed to have been designed to entertain her or isolate her from the machinery. Everything seemed to have a purpose. Sally’s face broke into a grin. “Wow.” She rested her hands lightly on the steering wheel. “This is very cool.” Through the low windscreen, the Zürichsee moved steadily past them, blue water framed for a moment by the long silver bonnet of a seventy-year-old Jaguar. Something stirred inside her that she couldn’t quite explain. It was different from the thrill of the Lamborghini or the violence of acceleration in the F40. Those cars demanded attention because of what they could do. The Jaguar seemed to invite her into another time entirely. Eventually she climbed carefully back out. “Vielen Dank, mein Herr,” she said, then glanced fondly at the car. “Es ist ein wunderschönes Auto.” She hesitated, smiling shyly. “It inspired me.” The gentleman seemed genuinely pleased. “Nichts zu danken. Gern geschehen.” Sally shook his hand while Adrian exchanged a friendly nod with him. Around them, doors were beginning to close as passengers returned to their vehicles for arrival in Horgen. Back in the Ferrari, Sally fastened her seat belt and looked once more toward the silver Jaguar. “There’s something about a classic car,” she murmured. Adrian shook his head with a knowing smile. “You’ve got the bug.” Sally watched the XK120 ahead of them as the ferry approached the opposite shore. She suspected he was right. -- The return to Zurich along the western shore felt more purposeful. The road opened up, the limits were a little more generous, and Adrian finally had enough space to let the F40 breathe—not recklessly, not even particularly fast, but with the engine working more freely and the car settling into a rhythm that suited it far better than the slow procession along the eastern side of the lake. Adrian checked his watch again. “We should be home with enough time.” Sally glanced over. “Anything I should know?” A small smile appeared on his face. “We have a guest for dinner.” Sally turned toward him, already suspecting the answer. “Anyone I know?” “Theresa.” “Oh.” Sally sat back, visibly pleased, and looked out through the windscreen as Zurich drew closer. -- “Had fun?” Bridget asked knowingly as she handed Oskar over. He had clearly just been fed, which meant Sally had been entrusted with the next ceremonial duty. She settled him sideways across her lap, supporting him securely with one hand while gently patting and rubbing his back. “It was cool. We took the ferry across the lake. Beautiful.” “I know. Your dad and I have done that drive before. Short trip, but a nice one.” Sally smiled down at Oskar and kept working patiently until he finally produced a respectable burp. She smirked. “Good boy.” Apparently satisfied with his contribution, Oskar relaxed. Sally shifted him upright and held him in front of her for inspection. “Look at you. I’m going to disappear for another week and you’re just going to keep growing without me.” She frowned exaggeratedly at him. Oskar stared back for a moment and, by coincidence or imitation, seemed to arrange his little face into something remarkably similar. Sally immediately looked at her mother. “See? He’s not pleased.” “Clearly devastated.” Sally gathered him against her chest, where Oskar settled comfortably as though the matter had now been resolved. She kissed the top of his head and nuzzled him gently. “Theresa’s coming for dinner,” she said, leaving the statement hanging just enough to invite an explanation. Bridget smiled, recognizing the tactic. “She called me about some scheduling. Renée is taking a few days off, so Theresa is arranging a standby nurse while she’s away. I thanked her for having you over yesterday, and somewhere in the conversation I got the impression she’d be on her own tonight. So I invited her.” “And she said yes.” “Very gladly.” Sally smiled. “It’s been a long time since we’ve all been together.” Bridget watched her daughter for a moment, particularly the way Sally held Oskar almost unconsciously now, one hand resting protectively across his back. “Theresa is sort of your big sister, isn’t she?” Sally shrugged, although the little smile remained. “Sort of.” “Your father told me you miss having her around.” “I do.” Sally looked down at Oskar. “It’s more than just... work, you know.” “I know.” Bridget reached over and squeezed her arm. “She knows you inside out. Almost as well as I do.” Sally chuckled. “In a different way. Never like a mother, thankfully.” Bridget’s eyes widened theatrically. “Sally Pembroke-Weiss.” Sally burst out laughing. “You know what I mean.” “I’m not certain I do.” “You absolutely do.” Sally grinned. “Theresa is more like a sister.” “That I’ll accept.” Oskar had meanwhile discovered his fist and was making a determined effort to fit as much of it into his mouth as possible while curled against Sally. She looked down at him and patted his back gently. “Yeah. You like her too.” Bridget shook her head. “He has absolutely no idea what you’re talking about.” Sally kissed Oskar’s head again. “He knows.” -- Sally had changed into a comfortable but unmistakably cool little dress. Not because Theresa demanded pomp and circumstance—quite the opposite—but somehow it felt proper. Besides, the warm evening seemed to call for something lighter than lounge pants. “Nice to see you, kiddo.” Theresa slipped one arm around Sally for a one-armed hug, a shopping bag occupying the other. Sally immediately tilted her head toward it. “What’s that?” “Chocolates. Not terribly original, but they’re the best.” “I love chocolate,” Sally beamed. “I am aware.” Theresa set the bag down, caught Sally lightly by the hand and twirled her around once, raising her eyebrows at the short dress and bare feet. “You’re looking a little too carefree for an almost-adult heiress.” Sally lifted her chin. “Even uptight heiresses are allowed the occasional Saturday night.” Once the greetings were over and Theresa had settled onto the sofa, Sally unceremoniously deposited Oskar into her lap. Theresa immediately sat straighter. “Oh.” For several seconds, she and Oskar simply studied one another. Oskar stared up with his usual serious concentration. Theresa stared back with equal solemnity. Apparently, both reached an acceptable conclusion. Theresa adjusted him securely against her and opened one hand in front of his face, slowly wiggling her fingers to see what he would do. Oskar considered his options. Then he grabbed one finger firmly with his right fist and, with considerable determination, attempted to guide it toward his mouth. His other hand closed around another finger, apparently for leverage. Theresa laughed. “Careful, buddy. I wasn’t invited as dinner.” Sally grinned and dropped onto the sofa beside them. “Old-aunt privileges.” Theresa looked over sharply. “Old aunt? Big sister? You’d better choose one and stick with it.” “You’re my older sister,” Sally said decisively. Then she frowned at Oskar. “But you’re way too old to be his sister.” Theresa looked offended. “You’ll find I possess absolutely no old-aunt qualities.” “I’m sure.” “And politically speaking, you’re much better off declaring me a sister anyway.” Sally raised an eyebrow. “How so?” Theresa adjusted Oskar as he continued trying to eat her finger. “If I’m your sister, I’m much more likely to vote with you. If you make me an aunt, I’m automatically part of the adult establishment and would have to side with your mother.” Bridget laughed from across the room. “Well put.” Sally considered this seriously. “That is an excellent point.” Theresa nodded. “Thought so.” Sally leaned closer to Oskar. “Okay, buddy. Theresa is officially our sister.” Bridget shook her head. “You don’t get to reorganize the family tree by majority vote.” Sally looked at Theresa. Theresa looked at Oskar. Oskar tightened his grip on her finger. Sally smiled. “Looks like we already have three votes.” -- Dinner turned out to be everything Sally had hoped it would be. There were only the four of them at the table, with Oskar asleep in his basket nearby, but the arrangement stirred memories that went far beyond an ordinary Saturday evening. There had been a time when they had existed mostly in professional orbit around one another: Adrian as employer, Bridget as family, Theresa as the highly capable woman entrusted with difficult things, and Sally as the girl everyone was supposed to protect. The crash had shattered that comfortable arrangement along with so much else. What had begun as tragedy—and in some ways would always remain one—had also stripped away the distance between them and revealed attachments none of them had fully understood until they were tested. Sally everything of the first hours after the jet went down, and that had never faded. Even injured, frightened and barely understanding what had happened, she had been frantic about Theresa. The rescue team had found Sally conscious enough to insist that the unconscious woman still trapped behind her could not be left there. She had asked about Theresa again and again, unwilling to be reassured about herself until someone reassured her that Theresa was being taken care of. Later, in the hospital, the pattern had reversed. Theresa had regained enough awareness to ask about Sally before properly understanding the extent of her own injuries. Her spine was broken, her body battered, and yet her first coherent concern had been whether Sally was alive, whether she was conscious, whether the doctors thought she would recover. Only after receiving those answers had Theresa allowed herself to focus on what had happened to her own body. Neither of them had ever treated that loyalty as something requiring repayment. That was what made it matter. There had been no calculation on either side, no sense that one now owed the other a debt. Their instincts had simply revealed where their affections already lay. Theresa would protect Sally before thinking about herself, and Sally, terrified and injured, had refused to abandon Theresa. Everything that followed—the months of recovery, dependence, frustration, encouragement and ordinary companionship—had only made the bond stronger. Now Theresa sat at the Weiss dining table with a glass of wine beside her plate, completely at ease. Bridget listened with interest as she described how much more active she had become, while Adrian occasionally looked over with the faint suspicion of a man who believed Theresa might be pushing herself harder than she admitted. Oskar slept through most of it, making the occasional small movement beneath his blanket before settling again. “Yes, I’m hiking,” Theresa said. “I have to direct the energy somewhere.” The slight frown accompanying the statement was as close as she came to complaining about the restrictions of recovery. Adrian looked at her. “From what you’ve described, some of those hikes sound fairly ambitious.” “They are.” “You mentioned ropes.” “For safety.” “And considerable elevation.” Theresa shrugged gently. “My doctors want me active. I’m taking them seriously.” Her eyes flicked briefly toward Sally. Sally lowered her gaze to her plate, smiling. Adrian noticed but let it pass. Bridget leaned forward slightly. “I think it sounds wonderful. Maybe we could join you sometime.” “You’d be very welcome,” Theresa said. “I’d start you on something easier, though.” Bridget smiled. “That would probably be wise.” Theresa’s eyes drifted toward Adrian. “Particularly for the elderly.” Adrian pressed his lips together. Sally immediately looked down at her plate. Bridget suddenly became very interested in her wine. Theresa continued eating with perfect composure. There was a small smile between them. Sally watched the exchange with quiet satisfaction. The teasing was easy and familiar, but beneath it lay something more serious. Everyone at the table wanted Theresa strong again. They wanted Adrian healthy. They wanted Sally steadily becoming herself. After everything they had already survived together, none of them treated those things lightly. Bridget glanced toward Oskar when he shifted in his basket, then relaxed when he remained asleep. “It’s strange,” she said after a moment. “Having everyone here again.” Theresa’s expression softened. “In a good way?” “In a very good way.” Sally looked around the table. “It feels normal.” Adrian smiled. “Normal for us, perhaps.” “That counts.” It did. The conversation drifted on. Bridget told Theresa about Oskar’s check-up, Adrian added details here and there, and Sally listened while finishing her meal, occasionally correcting some minor point or adding something her parents had forgotten. The conversation overlapped naturally, without anyone feeling the need to take possession of it. At some point Oskar woke and made a small protesting sound from his basket. Everyone looked over. Sally smiled immediately. “He’s awake.” Bridget began to rise, but Sally was already pushing back her chair. “I’ve got him.” She crossed to the basket and lifted him carefully, settling him against her shoulder and murmuring softly until his complaint faded. Theresa watched her for a moment. Adrian noticed. “So,” he said quietly, “still think you’d be in the way?” Theresa looked toward Sally, who was now pacing slowly with Oskar against her chest. Her answer came without hesitation. “No.” Bridget smiled. Sally, absorbed in her brother, never heard them. -- Later that evening, Theresa found Sally sitting on the edge of the pool with her feet trailing through the cool water. She stood beside her for a moment before speaking. “Your dad’s going to be fine, kiddo. He just needs to start paying attention to his health.” Sally watched the ripples spreading from her feet. “I feel like I have to police him now. It’s weird.” “Yeah.” Theresa nodded. “That happens as we get older. At some point we start looking after the people who used to look after us.” Sally glanced up at her. “How’s your abuela?” “She’s good. She’s in a senior living community now. I never know what they’re calling them these days.” Theresa smiled faintly. “She has her own apartment, her own things, but there are people around if she needs anything. Someone keeps an eye on her without making her feel watched.” “That sounds nice.” “It is. She complains about everybody, so I know she’s happy.” Sally smiled and went back to moving her feet slowly through the water. “And you?” Theresa asked. “Off to Erika’s on Monday.” “Yeah. Last little bit of summer.” Sally looked up suddenly. “Actually, do you know how I’m getting there? Train? Jet?” “Maybach.” Sally’s head swung around. “Driving?” Theresa nodded and lowered herself carefully onto the edge beside her, keeping her feet out of the water. “Adam’s taking you. Proper VVIP transfer.” “All the way to Milan?” “Think about it. You drive to the airport, board the jet, wait for departure, fly to Linate, get off, transfer everything into another car, then drive into Milan. Or you get into the Maybach here, put your seat back, annoy Adam for a few hours and get out at the other end.” Sally considered the arithmetic. “So it’s a long drive, but not an absurd one.” “Exactly. And the Maybach was practically designed for this sort of thing.” Sally nodded solemnly. “For pampered princesses.” Theresa gave her a sideways look. “You said it, not me.” Sally smiled. “You’ll meet the Ferranos in Milan,” Theresa continued. “Then you’re joining them for the drive down to Tuscany. Castelfiorentino, just beyond Florence. After that, you’re officially on holiday until you decide otherwise.” For a little while they sat quietly beside one another, the pool lights shimmering beneath Sally’s feet. “And after Tuscany?” Sally asked eventually. Theresa turned toward her. “Whatever you want.” There was something about the answer that made Sally look at her more closely. She took a breath. “Charlie.” Theresa’s eyebrows went up. Then she remembered. “Oh.” A smile appeared. “Fifteen.” Sally gave a small, almost embarrassed shrug. “August fifteenth.” “Consider it done. Captain Henderson will be back from vacation by then. I’ll reserve the G for you.” Theresa was already mentally arranging it. “Full weekend in Hartford?” Sally blinked. She had expected questions. Schedules. Complications. Possibly a discussion with her father. “Um... yeah.” “Good. Then Hartford for the weekend.” Theresa continued almost without pause. “And afterward, how about Miami? We could spend a few days there, check in on the office, check on Olivia and Elena, maybe see what Rachel is up to before everything goes back to normal after the holidays.” Sally stopped moving her feet. She looked at Theresa. “We?” Theresa met her eyes. Sally’s expression slowly changed. “Does this mean you’re back?” Theresa smiled. “Sure does, kiddo.” For a second Sally simply stared at her. Then the smile came—wide, immediate and impossible to hide. Theresa bumped her shoulder gently against Sally’s. “Your dad and I worked it out.” Sally looked back at the water, still smiling. Just like that, the missing piece had slipped back into place.

Chapter 6...     As Melissa put her car in park she couldn't help but second guess her decision to bring the girls home.  Sophie was wriggling uncomfortably in her seat as she felt the load in the back of her diaper cooling and Amelia found herself covering her nose as she saw Melissa undo her seatbelt and began to do the same.         "girls stay put for a second I'm gonna be back in a little bit." Melissa moved swiftly as she turned the car back on with the A/C running. closing the drivers side door she started to walk swiftly to the front door hearing yelling and breaking glass on the inside.     While Amelia waited in the car she noticed her dads car parked next to them and started to unbuckle her seat belt excitedly while Sophie looked on in shock.  "sissy you can't leave me alone!" Sophie started crying as she watched her sister exit the car and run towards the open front door her aunt had disappeared into.         As Melissa entered the house she felt her eyes widen as she took in the sight in front of her. Broken picture frames littered the floor and David and Miley stood chest to chest screaming into each others faces.              Miley pushed her husband as she felt the vein in her forehead pulsing "Fuck you David! you want me out? you want us out of our own house? how about you go live with your whore you piece of shit!"          Melissa struggled to process the information she was taking in as Amelia ran right past her into the house running up to her dad as he pushed Miley back. "Daddy? Mom why are you fighting why is there glass everywhere?" Amelia slowly realized what she had walked into taking a step back with glass crunching under her pink sketchers.         While Miley looked over at their daughter and froze up, unsure of what to say. David pushed her back again and ignored the presence of their older child      "At least my "whore" puts out you psychopath, you don't make enough to pay the mortgage Miley! You fucking idiot! Why don't you take your cum trophies to a hotel and get the fuck out of my house!" with his last words he took out his wallet and threw all the bills in his billfold in her face.             Amelia began crying wordlessly as she picked up the pieces she understood from her fathers words. He didn't love her, he called them... whatever that word was trophies and her heart broke at the realization that her daddy was not the man in front of her.  "David! That's enough! what the hell is wrong with you?" as Melissa finished her statement she scooped Amelia up and felt her sobbing into her chest.          Miley stood there motionless covering her mouth and shaking while she cried and looked at the floor and all the memories they'd had together, The family they'd built, The marriage they had agreed to. all broken in what felt like a single moment.              Melissa walked past the two as they continued arguing and went to the girls bedroom putting Amelia down as she continued on inconsolable.      Her aunt handed Melissa a pink backpack and started throwing clothes into a duffle bag. "Amelia I know this is hard but I need you to pack your clothes in the backpack I handed you okay?"  She filled up the duffle bag with all the supplies she could fit from the changing table as Amelia slowly started putting clothes into the bag, her tears falling down her face in slow steady streams like rain on a windshield.          After they had finished packing the two bags Melissa knelt down and put the pink bag on Amelia's shoulders wiping the little girls face as she tried to hold back her rage.  "It's okay honey, it's-it's gonna be okay alright?" Melissa attempted to console the girl as they walked past the argument with more glass breaking behind them as they exited the house.             As Melissa put Amelia into the car she took in Sophie, the sobbing mess of a girl had snot down her face and the smell from her behind had grown unbearable.  The college girl gagged as she dialed 911 pulling out of the drive and inching down the street towards the local Walmart.         While telling the police about the domestic incident she pulled the car into the Walmart parking lot and felt her frustration reaching the end of her tolerance. Both girls sobbing and crying while she raised her voice to tell the dispatcher the address and nature of the incident.  After she hung up the phone she snapped.     "Enough! Shut up!" Melissa felt herself breathing heavily as both girl's tried to stop crying unsuccessfully and she felt herself soften a bit.             If this was stressful for her it must feel like the world ended for Amelia. She gathered both girls and walked into the Walmart making there way to the back she closed the door of the family restroom and tried her best to ignore the crying as she changed Sophie's poopie butt. After the younger girl was clean Melissa picked Amelia up under her armpits and put the older of the two down on the changing table. Melissa was on auto pilot at this point not even thinking of whether the older girl wore diapers during daytime as she opened the wet pullup and cleaned her and then lifted the girl by the ankles as she slid a pampers diaper under her before taping it up and putting her back on the ground.         Amelia felt conflicted, the diaper felt comfortable but she wanted to have more information. As she sniffled she noticed that she stopped crying and thought to herself that being the mature one was exhausting.  Sophie also had stopped crying at this point and she tilted her head in complete confusion "why didn't we go inside?" she looked over towards her aunt as she was frantically texting, the little girl pouted at being ignored.                 Amelia looked to the younger girl and shook her head before putting a finger to her mouth mimicking a shush.  As the three stood there in the family bathroom with the only sound being the ticking of Melissa's texting the oldest of the two sisters felt too exhausted to want to know anymore.          Their parents were fighting and they may not be allowed back in their house because daddy said they should leave, Amelia put her thumb in her mouth as she sat on the tiled floor of the bathroom all of the days events draining her of all ambition and drive.   

My first Kiddo Owl Night diaper after a new delivery was put on last night. I had a verrry wet night and now up with no leaks. I messed my diaper within five minutes after I got out of bed and all is good. I am sitting here with no press-out leaks with warm, squishy potty in my diaper gently nestled against my perineum. The plastic is soft and supple, quiet, comfy, cute print. Checks all the boxes. The French sure know how to make a good diapie. I just patted the front of my swollen wet and poopie diaper, did you hear the sound?

Looking forward to the next installment. I honesty hate Miss M. Get her fired and replaced please