I’m already running twenty minutes behind, but as soon as I see Rachel her eyes tell me what my voicemail messages are already screaming at me: Lisa called. I’m familiar with the look of concern and pity she’s giving me under a failing façade of professionalism.

“Good morning, Rachel,” are the only words I manage.

“Yes, good morning, sir. I hate to start your day this way, but Mrs. Grant has been phoning nonstop.” Rachel nods to the stack of papers with messages scribbled upon them. “I’ve told her repeatedly that you haven’t been to the office yet, but she didn’t believe me. She accused me of covering up for you.” Rachel lowers her voice like Lisa’s instability is a shameful secret that must be kept from the office walls. “She sounded really upset this time, sir. If you have a moment, you might want to call her.”

Every muscle in my neck squeezes into a tight, little knot. It’s just after eight and I’m already bombarded with a stack of messages. I’m sure there are at least this many sitting in my inbox and probably another twenty on my voicemail. This thing with Lisa is getting out of hand. It’s getting worse by the day.

“Thank you, Rachel, I’ll see what I can do. In the meantime, get my lawyer on the phone. If you can’t get a hold of him, leave a message for Frank that I need him to call me back. Make it very clear that it’s urgent.”

Rachel nods at my demands. Lord knows I pay that man enough to call me back promptly. I swear, the higher a person’s salary, the more entitled they become.

With a stack of papers and the beginnings of a headache, I head into my office.

“Sir?”

With effort, I shuffle around to face her. Now what? I know it isn’t Rachel’s fault. Don’t shoot the messenger. I bite my tongue and wait.

“Should I push your meetings to later so you can deal with this? The first one is in ten minutes.”

I flip my wrist, looking at my brother’s old watch. Time couldn’t be more restrictive than it’s been these last few months. Between two time zones, these crisis situations with Lisa, and trying to do justice to the job I’m passionate about, time has been the one luxury I can’t afford.

“Please do,” I slump over. “And, Rachel?”

Her eyebrows rise in response.

“Make sure I’m not disturbed for the next twenty to thirty minutes, please? I’m calling Mrs. Grant.”

“Certainly, sir. That won’t be a problem.”

There it is again, pity.

My office door bears the brunt of my frustration as I slam it shut. The blinds and the picture frame holding the key to my heart, my little girl, shake from the force. I sink into my leather chair and stare into her big brown eyes for a moment, mustering the will to call her mother. My fingers dial the familiar digits from pure muscle memory. It comes with dealing with a new state of emergency every day in this woman’s life. As the phone rings, I hold my breath, wondering which version of Lisa I’m going to speak to this morning. Angry? Depressed? Manic?

“Hello?” Her voice is soft, so soft I wonder for a second if it is Madison who answered.

“Lisa?”

“Who else would it be? What kind of question is that? I swear you’re getting stupider by the day!”

Well, that answers that question.

“Lisa, I don’t have time for this. What do you want?” The tension is twisting inside my forehead, pulling on the backs of my eyeballs.

“Well, Trevor—”

“Colt,” I correct her.

“That’s what I said!” She shrieks in my ear so loud, I pull the phone away. “Is that how you treat your family? How can you just leave me here to deal with everything when you’re off in New York? You don’t even care about what happens to us.”

I can’t contain my sigh. This is a conversation I don’t feel like having for the hundredth time this week. “Lisa, focus, please.” I grit my teeth and intend to keep my voice even, but it’s so difficult when you are dealing with someone so irrational.

She’s sick. Just remember she is sick.

“If you tell me what the problem is, then maybe we can fix it.” I hold a receiver against my forehead, resisting the urge to smash it between my eyes until I knock myself out.

“I thought you should know I sent that so-called nanny you got for us packing. I told you from the get-go that she was no good! She was stealing from me, and she was abusing Madison, but you wouldn’t listen! You never listen to me anymore, Trevor. I don’t know why you have to make things so difficult around here when you know it’s hard enough. All you think about is yourself!”

“You fired Alyssa? Where is she? Where’s Madison?”

“What kind of question is that? She’s right here. What kind of mother do you take me for?”

“Let me talk to her!” I roar into the phone, cutting off her self-pitying tirade. For once she doesn’t protest. I hear the phone rustle as she hands it over.

“Colt? Is it you?”

My heart twists in my chest as my eyes flicker up to the picture on my desk as if she’s speaking to me from within the frame.

“Yes, baby. Is everything okay? Are you okay?” I’m trying so hard to keep my emotions from flooding my voice. I know it won’t do anything but upset her to hear how I truly feel.

“Yes, I okay. Don’t be sad. Mommy said Alyssa go away. Can she come back and play tomorrow?”

“I’ll see what I can do, honey. I won’t make any promises, but I’ll do my best.”

Lisa snatches the phone from Madison, and I steel myself for her wrath.

“I told you I fired her. Don’t go telling her you’re going to get her back. You obviously don’t even care about us if you want me to have a nanny who robs the blind and abuses Madison like that!”

This isn’t the first time Lisa has accused nannies of both of these things. In other cases, the police have investigated, and they have always come up empty-handed. Every nanny I’ve hired has had an extensive background search, a police records check, and come with a plethora of references, yet she still finds something wrong with each and every one of them. I thought we had finally found a winner with Alyssa since it’s been over a month of employment without any major protests, yet here we are.

“That isn’t true. I do care about my family, and I do care about what goes on there. If I didn’t I wouldn’t be on the phone with you right now, would I?” I open the calendar on my computer.

There goes another weekend.

There’s a flight on the redeye tonight, so I can make it there in four hours. “Just hang tight. I’ll deal with it tomorrow morning. I’ll be there before you even have breakfast on the table.” Of that much I’m certain, since one of the reasons a full-time, live-in nanny is an essential service is because Lisa has been known to go for days without eating or serving Madison proper meals.

“Oh, wonderful! We can have pancakes and blueberries. I’ll get us some whipped cream to top them up with, and we can have a nice family breakfast together.” Her mood swings upward like a child sitting on a teeter-totter.

“It all sounds lovely.” I rub my fingers across my forehead. “I’ll see you then.” Hanging up the phone, I realize Rachel needs to reschedule my meetings for today. Lisa can’t be trusted to look after Madison, not even for the next twelve hours. I’m going to have to arrange some sort of emergency care.

When I pick up the phone to call Rachel, the line is live. For a second, I’m thrown off by the phone not buzzing through to her desk, and my stomach sinks as I wonder if somehow I’m still connected to Lisa.

“Hello? Sir? Um, I’m sorry to disturb you. I just wanted to remind you of the Malone-McGregor wedding this afternoon. You asked me to give you three hours’ notice. Sir?”

I rub the earpiece of the receiver over my throbbing temple, tempted to jab it into my brain.

Fuck.

As usual I got swept up in Lisa’s whirlwind and forgot about all other obligations.

“Thank you, Rachel.” I manage to utter through clenched teeth. The last thing I want to do right now is go to some drawn-out ceremony that will surely involve a media frenzy and more handshaking than any amount of sanitizer can rub off. Did I say ‘fuck’ yet?