Chapter 2 - The Boarding School Application
The next morning Claire went searching for Luke’s vaccination records.
Instead, she found the boarding-school application.
It lay beneath a folder marked GUARDIANSHIP in Ethan’s study.
She had not been snooping. Luke’s pediatrician needed proof of his last tetanus booster, and Ethan had told her the medical files were inside the walnut cabinet beside his desk.
The application must have been mixed into the wrong folder.
St. Augustine Children’s Academy.
Vermont.
Residential educational program.
Applicant: Lucas Aaron Mercer.
Starting date: six weeks away.
Claire read it twice.
Then a third time.
Residential.
Her stomach turned.
There was a signature on the final page.
Ethan Mercer.
When Ethan came home that evening, Claire was waiting.
The application sat on the dining table.
His eyes dropped to it.
Then to her.
“You went through my files.”
“You told me to find Luke’s medical records.”
“That wasn’t what you were looking for.”
“No. It was what I found.”
Ethan removed his coat.
“I haven’t made a final decision.”
“You signed it.”
“I signed an application.”
“He’s four.”
“It’s not a boarding school in the traditional sense. They specialize in children dealing with bereavement and unstable family transitions.”
“He needs a home.”
“He needs stability.”
“With strangers?”
“With professionals.”
Claire stared at him.
The words came out before caution could stop them.
“You really believe professionals can love him so you don’t have to.”
Ethan went still.
“That is enough.”
“No.”
“Claire.”
“No.”
She pushed the papers toward him.
“This is exactly what he was afraid of last night.”
“You are his nanny. You are not his guardian.”
“Thank God.”
His face hardened.
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“It means somebody in this apartment needs to care more about how that little boy feels than whether his grief fits neatly into a schedule.”
Ethan stepped closer.
“You know nothing about the decisions I’ve had to make.”
“I know he packed a suitcase because he thinks needing you is dangerous.”
“I have a company employing twenty-six thousand people.”
“And he has one uncle.”
“I cannot simply stop working.”
“I didn’t ask you to.”
“What are you asking?”
Claire’s voice softened.
“For you to stop pretending sending him away is the same thing as protecting him.”
Neither of them heard Luke enter.
His small voice came from the hallway.
“Sending me where?”
Ethan’s face drained of color.
Claire turned.
Luke stood clutching his stuffed fox.
“Luke—”
“Where am I going?”
Ethan took a step.
Luke backed away.
“Buddy, listen to me.”
“Is it because I packed the suitcase?”
“No.”
“Because I cried?”
“No.”
“Because I need people too much?”
“Luke—”
The boy ran.
By the time Ethan reached the hallway, the elevator doors were closing.
“Luke!”
Ethan slammed his palm against the call button.
Nothing.
Claire’s blood froze.
“The elevator requires a key.”
“The service elevator doesn’t.”
They ran.
For the next nine minutes Ethan Mercer became a man Claire had never seen.
Not powerful.
Not controlled.
Terrified.
Security searched the lobby.
The doormen checked the sidewalk.
Ethan barked Luke’s name into stairwells until his voice cracked.
Claire found the boy on the thirty-ninth floor inside a maintenance alcove, curled behind a stack of folded banquet chairs.
His little body shook.
Claire dropped to her knees.
“There you are.”
“Don’t make me go.”
She reached for him.
He clung to her neck so hard it hurt.
“I’ll be good.”
The words broke something in her.
“You are good.”
“I won’t cry.”
“You can cry.”
“I won’t wake Uncle Ethan.”
“You can wake him.”
“I won’t need stuff.”
Claire squeezed her eyes shut.
Behind her, footsteps stopped.
Ethan.
Luke saw him and buried his face in Claire’s shoulder.
Ethan looked as though someone had punched him.
He crouched several feet away.
Not too close.
For once, he seemed to understand that love could not always be approached by force.
“I canceled the application,” he said.
Luke did not look up.
Ethan’s voice shook.
“I’m not sending you anywhere.”
Still nothing.
“I was scared.”
Luke peeked over Claire’s shoulder.
Ethan swallowed.
“I thought if I found the best school and the best doctors and the best everything, I couldn’t ruin your life.”
“You already ruined pancakes,” Luke whispered.
Claire laughed through tears.
Ethan stared at him.
Then, incredibly, he laughed too.
It was rough and rusty, like a door that had not been opened in years.
“Yes,” he said. “I did.”
Luke held out one arm.
Ethan crawled forward and let the little boy grab his shirt.
Claire found herself suddenly trapped between them.
Luke in her arms.
Ethan kneeling beside her.
Three people on a dirty service corridor floor in a building where the carpets upstairs cost more than Claire earned in a year.
And somehow this felt more honest than anything inside the penthouse.
That was the moment Claire should have remembered that she was an employee.
Instead, she looked at Ethan.
And Ethan looked at her.
Something passed between them.
Not romance yet.
May you like
Something more dangerous.
Recognition.
