Chapter 24
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The next morning I woke up bright and early to prepare Livy’s special breakfast. She has no food allergies, but she can be very particular about what she eats. Thankfully she loves yogurt and strawberries almost as much as I do.
While running errands together, she helped me pick a bright red basket of fresh berries from the market. She ate half of them or
the way home, but the other half we’ll have this morning with yogurt, granola, and honey.
A nice, balanced breakfast for her special day.
But as I enter the kitchen, not only do I see breakfast is already made and waiting, but there is also a large package waiting next t
yet another copy of the work contract.
“Stubborn man,” I smirk as I push the contract away and lift the lid of the box.
Inside is a fine leather briefcase, the kind that looks almost more like a purse, with a long strap and a flap that locks with a
shining brass buckle. On a brass plate, my name, Addison Archer Stone, is engraved.
It’s beautiful.
“Do you like it?” Hunter comes up behind me, and I jump, startled. Sometimes he’s so stealthy it feels a bit like living with a
ghost. Most of the men I’ve known in my life have had much heavier footsteps.
“This is too much,” I sigh as my hand caresses the smooth red leather. It’s a beautiful gift, not because of how much he spent,
but because of the thought and feeling that went into it.
“If you don’t like it I can have another one made,” Hunter takes a seat next to Livy, who is humming a song from one of her
favorite shows as her feet kick contentedly under the table. “I thought you’d like the red leather, rather than the traditional
brown.”
Red is my favorite color.
Even so, I’m about to say “no, thank you,” when Hunter adds, “Oh, and Livy helped pick it out.”
Livy’s eyes brighten at the mention of her name and she nods in confirmation. “Do you like it, Auntie?”
Hunter did this on purpose. He knows I can’t say to her precious face. “Of course I do, Livy. It’s beautiful. Thank you for the lovely bag,” I hold it to my chest lovingly and her grin widens.
“You’re welcome,” Livy sings as she takes another big bite, humming in pleasure.
I feel a little bit spoiled, but I’m also happy.
With Livy, I feel so much love.
Hunter wants to be there to drop Livy off as well, so he delayed his morning meetings to be there with us. He helps Livy get her
things so that I can get ready for my interview. When I walk back upstairs, I find another surprise, a new pair of heels the exact
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same shade as my purse hidden among the others as if it had always been there.
“Dang it, Hunter,” I sigh as I put them on. They look perfect with the bag and my cream–colored pantsuit.
When I open the door, I see that Livy has changed her clothing AGAIN, this time wearing her favorite mushroom print dress, mushroom boots, and knit mushroom hat. Mushrooms are her current hyperfocus. You can ask her anything about mycelium and
it will be a non–stop flood of facts about different fungi and where to find them
She must be nervous about her first day to be waring so many mushrooms. They are like her lucky charms.
“Pretty outfit,” I compliment Livvy as I take my seat. Taking my comment as an invitation to share, she spends the next 20
minutes telling me about a fungi that stretches underground and is the size of the state of Oregon.
By the end of the ride her first day jitters are gone. Humming to herself, she is the happiest girl on Earth, sitting between her two
favorite people.
“Now remember, Livy, if things get overwhelming, tell your teacher you need a break,” I remind her, going over all our protocols
one more time. “I already told your teacher about it.”
“Okay!” Olivia chimes, her voice bright and light. When it’s just the three of us, she has the easiest disposition. It’s only with
others that she shuts down. Her therapist says it is because she feels safe. That she isn’t worried about making a mistake.
“She’s so afraid others will think badly of her,” Dr. Harris had told us during a private check–in. “That it causes her to shut down
or lash out when others disapprove of her.”
It breaks my heart the way others treat her when they realize she’s autistic. Yes, she has her moments when she gets so frustrated
that she forgets her words and can sometimes shut down or explode with everything she is feeling. But we all have our moments.
What she needs is more understanding, not judgement.
And practice working with kids her own age. Which is why I enrolled her in school.
Hunter had been against the idea at first, but after I found a school near home that knows how to work with unique children like
Livy. It isn’t a “special” school, but one that also serves other elite families preparing all students, regardless of their needs, for
high school and beyond. Students who graduate from often go on to presigious universities.
As Livy’s unofficial “auntie” I want to make sure she gets the experiences she needs to someday live a full and independent life. Even if it means going toe to toe with her stubborn Uncle.
When I told him the security was almost as good as what we have at home, he was finally convinced.
“We’re here, Sir. Ma’am,” the driver announces as he parks us in front of the grand sweeping gates of the Hilldale Montessori Academy. After both of our IDs are scanned, Hunter and I lead Livy inside, the doors closing solidly behind us.
When I did my tour a few weeks ago, I was surprised at how open and spacious the school grounds are. Much like Grant Manor,
HMA is a secret garden of sorts, with large lawns full of fruit bearing trees and rose gardens with edible berries growing side by side. There is also a playground designed to look like something from a fairytale, everything taking the shape of something out of
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Livy’s eyes brighten when she sees a tall slide carved into a small stone hill. It has mushrooms painted on the side.
“Mushrooms,” she whispers.
“Go ahead,” I give her a little nudge and she bounds off, laughing, as she takes her place in line.
Standing side by side, Hunter and I watch amazed as another little girl comes up from behind and taps Livy’s shoulder, showing
her the mushroom raincoat she’s wearing.
“I think she found a new mushroom friend,” Hunter observes as we hear they playful conversation. “Thank you, Addison, for
everything you do for her. She’s grown so much since you came into our lives.”
Turning towards Mr. Grant, I explain that no thanks are necessary. “I do it out of love. She’s an amazing girl.”
“Whatever are we going to do without you,” he places a hand on my arm. “Once you’ve found your new job. I really wish you’d
just sign my contract. You’re so good at this work…”
“Hunter, I…”
Someone coughs, interrupting our conversation. “Well isn’t this sweet?”
Rotating towards the voice, I take a deep breath as I face Michael Stone.
“Why are you here, Addy?” Michael demands as Evelyn places a well–manicured hand on his shoulder. “Are you stalking me?”
