**Chapter 5: Farrah** As the sun peeked through the blinds on that Friday morning, a wave of bittersweet emotions washed over me. The alarm blared insistently, yet a tiny part of me felt a pang of sadness—a whisper of reluctance that today marked the end of my work week. I shrugged it off, rousing the kids from their slumber, and beckoning Cora to join me in the bathroom for our morning ritual. After years spent knee-deep in the chaos of motherhood—a whirlwind of packing lunches, wiping noses, and chasing after two lively kids—it felt exhilarating to reclaim a part of myself in the professional world. The rush of making my own money and succeeding in something beyond household duties flooded me with a sense of accomplishment. Despite the yearning for more moments with Cora and Andrew, this newfound identity filled a hollow space within me—my professional ambitions, dormant for so long, began to stir awake. Just as I was halfway through my makeup routine, a sharp trill broke the morning quiet. My phone buzzed on the countertop, and Cora glanced up at me, hairbrush pausing mid-stroke. “You gonna get that?” she asked, a playful glint in her eye. I shot her a mock-serious look. “Where did all that sass come from?” Her grin turned mischievous, and I couldn’t resist a chuckle as I answered the call. “Hi, this is—” A cold, robotic voice interrupted. “This is an automated message from Golden Valley Elementary. School has been cancelled today due to unexpected power outages at the main building. Classes will resume Monday as usual.” “Shit,” I muttered, but Cora looked up at me, her eyes wide in shock. “Mommy!” she hissed, waving her brush as if it could ward off the unwelcome news. “Shoot! I meant shoot,” I corrected quickly, leaning down to kiss the crown of her tousled curls before heading to find my mom. She was likely in the kitchen with my brothers, probably dealing with another one of Levi’s antics—he had a knack for testing her patience, especially at the breakfast table. Sure enough, I found her there, chin in hand, exasperatedly scolding Levi for tapping furiously on his phone. “Who could you possibly be texting at this hour?” she asked incredulously. “Dad,” Levi replied dryly. “Hey, Mom,” I chimed in, the weight of the news settling heavily on my shoulders. “Andrew and Cora’s school is closed for today.” “Oh no,” she gasped, the worry etched across her face. “Far, I’m sorry, but one of the baristas called in sick, and I need to help your dad at the shop.” A swell of frustration bubbled up in me, clawing at my composure. Resenting the universe felt juvenile, but the reality striking me was painfully unfair. I appreciated my parents' support, but juggling a full-time position and three kids at school... I had hoped this moment would arrive after I had established my place at Griffen Industries, proving my worth. But Gage Griffen had three siblings, surely he understood the chaos that accompanied parenthood. I let out a resigned breath, determination tightening my resolve. “Alright, finish eating and grab your art kit,” I instructed Andrew. “You and Cora are coming to work with me.” As we made our way to the hotel, my mind raced, teetering on the edge of panic. My phone buzzed again, and I hastily dialed Mia, hoping for a lifeline. “HELP!” I burst forth, my voice an urgent whisper. “What’s going on?” she responded, concern threading through her tone. From the backseat, Cora chirped excitedly, “Do we get to see you today, Auntie Mia?” Andrew chimed in, “I can draw you something. Anything you want.” The line fell silent for a moment, and I could almost hear Mia’s gears turning. “Are you running behind?” “I wish,” I groaned. “The kids’ school is closed, and I have to bring them with me. I have way too much work to dip out on my first week just because the universe decided to throw a wrench into my plans.” “Can’t your mom watch them—?” “No. I already called two of her friends, and everyone’s busy,” I said, a tinge of hopelessness in my voice. “Shit,” Mia cursed. “AUNTIE MIA!” Cora scolded dramatically. “Sorry, sorry,” Mia backtracked quickly. “Farrah, this is not good.” Worry gnawed at my stomach. Andrew, to my left, was mesmerized by his coloring book, but I could feel Cora’s gaze piercing into me. “Doesn’t Shantel have kids?” “She does, but she has a live-in nanny and a stay-at-home husband. I don’t think Gage is the warm, fatherly type—there’s a reason we don’t have a daycare on site.” “I’ll figure it out,” I replied, frustration bubbling up. “Drew and Cora can be quiet, especially with their tablets. He won’t even notice they’re here.” “I hope so,” she said, unconvinced. “Hey, Drew, I know what you could draw for me—how about a woman walking off a gangplank into shark-infested waters?” “Goodbye, Mia,” I said, half-laughing. “Godspeed.” As we approached the hotel, my palms felt as clammy as a glass of iced tea on a sweltering afternoon. Cora pulled her hand from mine and wiped it on her sparkling pink dress—the same dress that had become her daily uniform, washed again and again to keep it fresh for her ongoing parade. Keeping my hands firmly on my children’s shoulders, we crossed the threshold into the grand lobby, breezing past Cliff, the stoic security guard. The makeshift office came into view, and like a model of icy precision, Gage Griffen sat behind his desk, his keen blue eyes snapping up from the screen to take in the unexpected trio that had entered. His shoulders stiffened, and I felt a chill race down my spine. I braced myself for the probable worst. If only I could deflect this impending disaster from my children’s sight before the inevitable firing ensued. Before he could utter a word, I rushed in. “They’re not sick. Their school closed down for the day, and believe me, I’d rather let the neighbor’s blind dog look after them than bring them here.” Cora gasped, not quite understanding my jest, and I smiled sheepishly. “Kidding,” I whispered, leaning closer to Gage. “Not kidding.” To my surprise, a glimmer of amusement danced in his eyes—an unexpected depth within the stoic facade. “I assure you today will not be a regular occurrence, but it has to work,” I stated, my confidence wavering. “I brought activities to keep them entertained—and headphones too, so you won’t even hear their shows. Isn’t that right, kids?” “Right,” they echoed, their voices colliding in a sweet, chaotic harmony. Gage glanced between us, and suddenly, I realized I hadn’t even introduced my kids. “Kids, this is Mr. Griffen. Mr. Griffen, please meet Cora and Andrew.” Cora's brow furrowed slightly, her innocent curiosity piqued. “I thought you told Auntie Mia his name was Mr. Grumpy Pants?” Oh, dear heavens, if the ground could swallow me whole, now would be a perfect time. Gage leaned forward, meeting her inquisitive gaze. “Only my employees call me Mr. Grumpy Pants. You can call me Gage.” Was my child truly witnessing a softer side of the infamous Mr. Grumpy Pants? I could hardly believe it. Andrew piped up, “Can I draw you something, Gage?” Gage stroked his chin thoughtfully. “Do you know what a windmill looks like?” Andrew nodded eagerly. “And cows?” Another nod. Andrew had a penchant for capturing the Texas landscapes during our family trips, where rolling hills and farmland sprawled endlessly. “Could you draw me a pasture with a windmill and cows in it? That would really make my day.” Wait—make my day? This was a new Gage, one I’d yet to encounter, and I was taken aback. “Okay,” Andrew replied, darting around the table. “Is there another chair for me?” In a move that stunned me, Gage rose from his seat and offered, “Take mine.” “You don’t have to do that,” I said, surprised. “We brought a blanket so they could sit on the floor.” His eyes danced between Andrew and Cora, now appropriating the leather chair that seemed almost comical within the room's stark decor. Meeting my gaze, he said, “Your children deserve better than the floor, Farrah.” At a loss for words, I felt my heart swell. “Excuse me,” he said, lifting his phone with purpose, “I need to make a call to ‘Auntie Mia.’” I was apprehensive about what awaited. He could be calling Mia, asking her to arrange my termination. After all, I’d been out of the professional ring for so long, and the idea of being fired rattled me—not since that summer when I got caught with my high school crush at the pool had I felt this exposed. Nevertheless, my focus shifted back to the kids. Setting Cora up with the iPad for a much-loved show, I let her absorb the whimsy, while Andrew delved deeply into his drawings. As I pulled out my laptop, I caught myself dialing Benjamin from the finance department, eager to tackle the details of our flooring project. “Hey, Benjamin,” I greeted him, immersing myself back into work mode. Benjamin, knowledgeable with money in his veins, guided me through the ins and outs of submitting purchase orders and assuring me that Mia would soon arrive with a company credit card—my name emblazoned on it—for small transactions under ten thousand dollars. The resources at my fingertips felt downright luxurious, and my mind swirled with possibilities. Just as I finished my conversation with Benjamin, the door swung open, and in strode a man clad in a moving company uniform, three beanbag chairs in tow. He was followed closely by another employee piling in extra chairs, while Mia made her entrance, carrying a hefty clear container brimming with an assortment of toys, Barbies and action figures spilling out. And then Gage himself returned, balancing a striking red briefcase along with an easel stand and a hefty sketchbook. My jaw dropped in disbelief. “Presents!” Cora squealed, eyes wide in amazement. “Mom! Your work is the coolest!” Andrew exclaimed, wrapping his arms around me before dashing back for his drawing. “Gage! I’m done with your drawing!” “Whoa, slow down,” I cautioned, noticing Gage’s arms were indeed quite laden. As the movers and Mia set up an enchanting play corner, Gage laid Andrew’s sketch out in front of him. The tension melted from the air as Gage’s lips curled into an unexpected smile while he studied Andrew’s creation. That radiant smile transformed him—illuminating his features and melting the remnants of his earlier intensity into warmth. My heart raced, captivated by the moment shared between Gage and my son. Holding up the drawing, Gage spoke with palpable excitement, “You drew this?” Andrew nodded, biting his lip from a newfound pride, as Gage’s genuine elation seemed to acknowledge and celebrate his talent. “This is amazing!” Gage said, looking to Mia. “Can I have some tape, please?” In mere moments, a piece of Andrew’s work was secured against the wall, right next to Gage’s work station for all to admire. Tears prickled the corners of my eyes as I witnessed this small but profound gesture—my boss, who once appeared so distant, was not only accommodating but also extending his appreciation toward my child. “Anything else for you, Ms. Baird?” one of the movers asked after setting up the space. “Looks great, guys,” Mia beamed, surveying the room. “Thank you for your help!” Once the movers departed, Mia turned briefly to me, confusion flickering across her features, before adhering her focus back to Gage. “Lunch arrives at eleven-thirty, and the art instructor will be here at one.” “Excellent,” Gage replied, the familiar poise returning. “Make sure the coffee bar is stocked for my meeting with Jason Romero.” Mia nodded. “And your press interview is set for four.” “Thank you,” Gage said, his tone clipped yet somehow softer than before. After Mia swiftly departed, I felt a rush of gratitude as I watched my children immersed in their newfound treasures. “Mr. Griffen,” I said, taking a steadied breath, “can I speak with you for a moment? Privately?” He nodded curtly, the mask of composure resuming its place as we stepped outside the office. I quietly checked on the kids, assuring myself of their contentment before closing the door behind us. The click echoed on the cold cement floor, and I faced Gage as curiosity prickled at my senses. “Art instructor?” I inquired, piqued. He nodded, a glimmer of purpose in his expression. “I figured it would be wonderful for Andrew—and Cora—to have some dedicated drawing time.” “Wonderful?” I echoed incredulously, my surprise evident. “I didn’t even realize that word was in your vocabulary.” Why was I being so defensive? “I’m sorry. That was genuinely kind of you, but you didn’t have to do all of this for them.” For a fleeting moment, his eyes drifted, shadowed by a distant memory. “Yes, I did.” “Why?” I asked, my voice a fragile whisper. Gage swallowed visibly, as though my question bore weight. “Because, Farrah, you and your children are a package deal.” And just like that, the distance between us, once so rigid and unyielding, trembled on the brink of a new understanding.