Read Online Sweet Gone South by Alicia Hunter Pace - Free Book Online Page B

had no illusions about why he was a judge. It was nepotism, pure and simple. People were bound to be watching and he wanted them to see what he knew about himself — that he was hard working and capable. In his view, that didn’t mean dragging into work mid-morning. When he’d been living at the farm, he’d been at his desk every morning by 7:15.
    “Let’s potty.” He directed her toward the bathroom and removed her diaper. She’d had a dry night and that was a rarity. Potty training was something else the new nanny was going to have to make happen.
    He’d learned right off that it never went well if he asked Emma what she wanted to wear so he dressed her in a pink t-shirt, denim overalls with embroidered pink flowers, and pink tennis shoes. It was one of the outfits his mother had put together for her.
    “Hair bow,” Emma said pointing to the hair ribbons hanging over her dresser mirror. Damn. He was going to hide those things tonight after she went to sleep. Like Lanie’s body, out of sight, out of mind. Maybe. Bow tying never went well.
    “Let’s get your breakfast and then we’ll fix your hair,” he said. Hair bow aside, it was going all right. He’d fix her breakfast and she could feed herself while he pulled on sweat pants and shoes.
If
she didn’t spill on her clothes,
if
she didn’t balk at brushing her teeth,
if
she forgot the hair bow, they might make it to school on time.
    “Cartoons!” Emma yelled gleefully and ran into the living room.
    “Okay,” he said, reaching for the remote. “But you know the rule. You can watch until your breakfast is ready but you have to come when I call you.”
    She didn’t answer, but put her thumb in her mouth and plopped in the floor too close to the television. Not a battle he had time to fight today — the thumb or the sitting ten inches from the TV. Please, God, let one of these nannies be the one.
    Cheese toast, strawberries, and a sippy cup of milk. There were worse breakfasts even if it wasn’t really breakfast food. The new nanny would be able to make scrambled eggs without burning them.
    “Emma, breakfast.” The stars were aligned. Wonder of wonders, she came on the first call and didn’t argue when he tied the bib around her neck.
    “Honeybee,” he said as he set her food in front of her. “I’m going to get dressed. You eat and I’ll be right back.”
    He was almost out the door when she said, “Circle waffle.”
    “What?”
    “Want a circle waffle.”
    “Circle waffle?” As far as he knew, Emma had never had a waffle, circle or otherwise. “You like cheese toast. Eat it while it’s hot.”
    “Want a circle waffle.”
    “I don’t have a circle waffle.”
    “In there.” She pointed to the freezer.
    Like an idiot, he opened the freezer and looked, as if he hadn’t bought everything in there, as if maybe the circle waffle fairy had paid a visit. Fish sticks, chicken fingers, ice cream, vodka, popsicles. No circle waffle.
    “Here.” He picked up a strawberry and held it to Emma’s mouth, whereupon she clamped her mouth shut and twisted her head away from it. “Try the cheese toast. It’s your favorite!” He tore off a piece and held it toward her.
    “No! Circle waffle!”
    “Emma,” he said reasonably, as if it was possible to reason with a three-year-old. “I don’t have a circle waffle to give you. If you’ll eat your cheese toast, I’ll buy some today.”
    “No! Hate cheese toast. Hate strawberries!”
    Time was getting away. “How about some cereal?” He opened the cabinet and pulled out the raisin bran and cornflakes. “How about this? I’ll let you pick.”
    “CIRCLE WAFFLE!” She slammed a tiny fist onto the table.
    “Look.” He retrieved his Cap’n Crunch from its hiding place. “I’ll let you have some of this.”
    “CIRCLE WAFFLE!”
    Desperately, he reached to the top shelf for the chocolate chip cookies. “Look,” he said, holding out a cookie. “It’s round. Just like a circle waffle.”