But as it turns out, Cady is already there waiting for me — one of two unexpected visits I get during the course of the day. And definitely the more pleasant one.
“Morning, Margot!” I call as I walk through the front door at ten after nine. “Sorry I’m — oh!”
The two figures waiting in the reception area take me by surprise, since I don’t have any appointments scheduled. Cady, dressed casually in jeans and a white button-down shirt, stands up from her seat. The pint-sized version of her stands as well.
“They’re here to drop off something for you,” Margot interjects as she walks into the room. “I told them you’d be in at nine,” she says, glancing up at the clock with a frown. “They wanted to wait and give it to you in person.”
“Actually, I wanted you to meet Wren,” Cady tells me. “Since the work you’re doing involves her. Say hello, sweetie.”
“Hello!” the little girl chirps, giving me an adorable smile that’s missing one of her lower incisors. She’s dressed in jeans, too, and a sparkly pink T-shirt. Her light brown hair is long and curly, pulled into two pigtail braids that are just about the cutest things I’ve ever seen.
“Well, hello, Wren!” I take a step forward and look down at her. I’m not sure what I should do — kneel down? Shake her hand? Except for Benji, I’m at a complete loss in general where kids are concerned.
Cady steps forward with a manila envelope. “Like Margot said, I have some documents with some of the info we should have brought when Tank and I came for our appointment. And Wren has something for you, too, don’t you, Wren?”
“Yeah!” Wren turns to the chair next to the one she was sitting in. She picks up a small square frame wrapped in butcher paper. “Look! I painted a pitchah foh you!” She widens her eyes. “Uh-oh, I wasn’t supposed to tell you it was a pitchah until you opened it!”
Charmed, I take it from her tiny hands. “That’s okay, I love pictures! Can I open it now?”
“Yes! But be careful ‘cause the pitchah’s on this side!” she points to the smooth side without the tape.
“Oh,” I give her a serious look. “Well, I don’t want to mess it up, so maybe you could help me open it?”
Wren gives me an excited nod, pigtails flying. I hand the package back to her, and she flips it over and puts it on the seat of the chair she was sitting in. “See? You can open it heah,” she says, pointing. She grabs one folded edge and pulls, ripping the paper away to expose the back of a framed canvas.
“Wow, this is very fancy, Wren,” I say.
“I know,” she sing-songs back. “Pull heah now,” she orders, yanking at another corner of the paper. I do as she says, and when the frame is free I lift it out of the wrapping and turn it over.
To my surprise, it’s an actual watercolor painting. It’s a castle on a hill, painted in vibrant colors, with a long, multicolored walkway leading up to it. It sort of reminds me of the first view of the Emerald City in the Wizard of Oz movie. On the front lawn of the castle are a few different figures who look like they’re playing with a large ball. In the castle itself, a girl is leaning out of the window of a tall tower, waving. Her long, brown hair is almost as long as Rapunzel’s, but I’m guessing it’s a self-portrait.
“She’s really into princesses right now,” Cady explains.
I’m genuinely impressed that this tiny girl has painted this picture. It’s astonishingly good. Like, probably better than I could do myself.
“Is this Princess Wren, then?” I ask the little girl.
She beams. “Yes! And that’s Dylan, and Olivia, and Landon, and Logan!” She points at each figure, one by one. “They’ah my fwiends!”
“That’s a great painting, Wren! Thank you so much for my present!”
“Welcome!” She slides it toward me an inch. “You could put it up in yoah office!”
I laugh. “I think I’ll do that.”
I take the canvas and stand, and then look at Cady. “I’m not sure any clients have ever given me a painting before.”
“Well, I hope you like it.” She waggles the manila envelope. “This isn’t quite as exciting by comparison, but can I go over this information with you before we take off?”
“Sure thing,” I smile back. “Margot, could you watch Wren for a couple of minutes while I take Cady back?”
“Of course.”
I lead Cady into my office and close the door. She sits in the chair she was sitting in yesterday, and I take the seat next to her, on the same side of my desk.
“Wren is quite an artist,” I remark. “Truthfully. Did you say she’s only five?”
“Yes. Amazing, isn’t it? Actually, I’m a painter as well. I’ve been teaching her. I agree, she’s got talent. And she really does love it. I can’t wait to see how good she is when she’s older. She even stretched the canvas herself, with some help from me, of course.”
“She’s really confident for such a little girl.”
Cady shakes her head. “If you can believe it, she didn’t talk at all when we first got her. We couldn’t get a single word out of her for weeks.”
“What?” I’m shocked.
“It’s a long story.” Her glistening eyes tell me it’s not a good one, either. “But suffice it to say, seeing Wren so happy and confident is something I’ll never, ever take for granted. Because I remember what it was like when she wasn’t.”
“I see.” My heart cracks a little. “I’m guessing that long story has something to do with Wren’s biological mother?”
“Yes.” Cady’s face pinches. “Tank and I know next to nothing about what happened to Wren in the first few years of her life. As we told you, her birth mother literally left her on Tank’s doorstep and drove away, with a note saying she was his. It was the first he’d ever even heard about Wren’s existence.”
“Wow.”
“Wren was absolutely terrified of him, at first. I met the two of them about three days later, when he brought her into the Downtown Diner, where I used to work.” Cady swallows. “It’s been a process, getting Wren to a place where she is now. She’s really blossomed in the time we’ve had her. And frankly, Ember, we’re terrified that if she had to go to foster care, or God forbid, back to her biological mother…”
She trails off. I sense she’s right on the verge of tears. I don’t know what to say, so I stay quiet, giving her time. Finally, she starts to speak again, voice cracking.
“That little girl has been through a lot of pain,” she half-whispers. “She needs her daddy. She needs us.” Her eyes meet mine. “Please, please help us make sure she can stay with us throughout this whole thing, Ember. No matter what it takes. If there’s any risk of any step in this process meaning she gets taken away, I’m not sure if she can handle it. I’m not sure if any of us can.”
Her expression is so raw and earnest, I can practically see the pain of her worry and love for Wren.
“Tank is the best father to her imaginable,” Cady continues. “You wouldn’t necessarily think that to look at him. Like you said, most people would see a big, tattooed biker and draw their own conclusions about whether he was fit to raise a child. But sometimes, people aren’t what they seem.” She gazes down at her hands. “I had my own preconceived notions about Tank, when I first met him. But then…” Cady’s face turns absolutely radiant, her eyes glowing. “He’s the best man I know, Ember. I know it might seem like he’s being a little overbearing with the whole bodyguard thing, but don’t judge him for that. After everything we’ve been through, I think Tank feels like he has to make sure everyone involved with us is safe. I know you might find it an inconvenience, and I really don’t think you’re in any danger, but thank you for putting up with it. I know it makes him feel better to have you protected.”