I couldn’t let that happen, so you brought me to your house.” There was an edge to her voice now. Jake turned to face her. You refused to let me call you a cab. You wouldn’t give me your address. My babysitter had an emergency and had to leave. I didn’t have many options. Mia’s face flushed. I see. She took a sip of her coffee and the clothing situation.
Now it was Jake’s turn to flush. You were unsteady. I helped you to the guest room. You said you couldn’t sleep in your dress. I gave you a t-shirt and left. That’s all. She studied his face, searching for any sign of deception. Whatever she saw seemed to satisfy her. Thank you, she said finally, for preventing me from driving.
That would have been unwise. You’re welcome. Another silence fell between them, less tense than before. I didn’t know you had a daughter, Mia said eventually. It’s in my personnel file. Yes.
Well, she looked uncomfortable. I don’t always have time to review those details. Jake nodded unsurprised. Mia Winters was known for focusing on results, not on the people who produced them.
It was one of the reasons the company was so successful and why employee turnover was so high. She’s lovely, Mia added, glancing toward the hallway where Lily had disappeared. How old is she?
Seven. And her mother. Jake stiffened. Not in the picture. Mia seemed to sense she’d hit a nerve. I apologize. That’s not my business. It’s fine.
Jake turned back to the stove, flipping the last pancake onto the stack. Breakfast is ready. You’re welcome to join us. To his surprise, she nodded. Thank you. I’d like that.
Lily returned now dressed in mismatched clothes that made Jake wse purple leggings, a green striped shirt, and a red cardigan.
But she looked so pleased with herself that he couldn’t bring himself to suggest a change. I dressed myself, she announced proudly to Mia. I can see that, Mia replied.
And Jake was startled to see a genuine smile on her face. You have a very creative sense of style. Lily beamed. Daddy says, “I’m an artist. Is that so?” Mia accepted the plate of pancakes Jake handed her.
“What kind of art do you like to make?” And just like that, his fearsome boss was engaged in a serious conversation with his seven-year-old about the merits of fingerpainting versus watercolors.
Jake watched in amazement as Lily chatted away, completely unintimidated by the woman who made seasoned executives tremble.
More surprising was how Mia listened, really listened, asking thoughtful questions and nodding at Lily’s explanations. There was none of the condescension adults often showed when talking to children.
She treated Lily’s opinions with the same respect she might give to a colleague. As they ate, Jake found himself seeing Mia Winters in an entirely new light.
The sharp edges seemed softer somehow. When she laughed at something Lily said, a real laugh, not the polite chuckle she sometimes used in meetings, her entire face transformed. After breakfast,
Lily insisted on showing Mia her artwork, dragging the woman to her bedroom while Jake cleaned up the kitchen. He could hear his daughter’s excited voice and Mia’s more measured responses, and found himself smiling despite the strangeness of the situation.
When they returned, Lily was holding Mia’s hand, looking up at her with undisguised admiration. “M Winters says, “My drawing of our family could be architecture someday,” she told Jake proudly.
That’s wonderful, honey,” Jake said, glancing at Mia with curiosity. “She has a good eye for spatial relationships,” Mia said, sounding like her professional self again.