"Gabriela, stand still, your mouth is still covered in ice cream," Paris said loudly, wiping her daughter's mouth clean.
Finn walked over from across the playground, raising Leah onto his shoulders, hearing the familiar voice.
"I thought I heard you," he began, placing Leah onto a dolphin-shaped spring rider.
"I'm loud, I know," she stated plainly, raising the corner of her mouth. She knew her faults, but she'd also learned to laugh at her own expense over the years.
"Gabriela, Timoteo, play nice now, okay?" she called after her two kids, seconds later, who were already running off towards the slides.
"Do you want a cup of coffee?" he asked, seeing the coffee cart approaching.
"I'd love one, thank you," Paris said, "I'll keep an eye on Leah," she offered, observing Leah who was enjoying the dolphin-rider.
Two minutes later Finn returned with their coffees, handing one to Paris.
"Timoteo woke at 5 AM today, I needed this, thanks," she replied.
"Have a similar issue myself, I need to go shop for some blinds for Leah's room later. The fall sun shines right in in the early mornings, waking this little ankle-biter far earlier than I'd like," he commented.
"I never actually asked - where do you live? I am a bit of an architecture geek, you could say, and I know the area pretty well," she inquired, taking a sip.
"You know the green Dutch Colonial on Fairfield?" he asked.
"I think I do," she replied, adding, "A Dutch is a brave choice, not everyone can pull it off."
"I've had my share of era specific experiences in my life, one more just felt natural," he said referring to the Life and Death Brigade that he wasn't really supposed to mention.
"You are not some LARP nerd are you?" Paris asked, raising her eyebrows, wondering what he'd meant.
He paused, taking a large gulp of coffee. "Let's just say I have some friends who are big on theme parties, but no LARP, no" he replied, smugly, helping Leah climb down the rider.
"You were one of those secret society guys Rory wrote about in Yale, weren't you?" she inquired.
"My lips are sealed, my darling," he said graciously, with a wide smile on his face.
"Hah, I guess that makes Logan and…," she began, not finishing that thought out loud.
Finn smiled. Thinking back about those days always made his inner child giggle. While he had been drunk on most of those events, the elaborate planning that went into those, was something he had truly enjoyed.
"What did you do after undergrad?" she inquired.
"Law school, after passing the bar I joined the family business. Quite a boring choise really, but I like the work," he replied, walking across the playground chasing Leah to the climber she loved.
"I got my licence too, but I don't really practice," she shared, following them, "I basically operate a glorified baby factory," she said, explaining her line of work. "The name, Dynasty makers, is cheezy, but it works. Draws in the right kind of clientele," she added.
"It certainly takes the right kind of person to pull that off," he reflected.
"I never could really decide to stick to just one path, there were, are, too many interesting and not to mention necessary things in this world to learn, so why limit myself?" Paris explained rhetorically, taking a sip of coffee.
"It was a miracle I made it through undergrad, law school was easier - less distractions," he began, adding, "I guess in my family has always rather had a fairly laid back attitude towards school and work, they never really pushed me with stuff like that, except my sister I suppose. They just cared that everyone was safe, taken care of and loved."
"That's rare, you're lucky," she commented, gulping down the last of her coffee in one sip, before throwing the cup away.
"I guess," he agreed.
"I was pretty much raised by my nanny, my parents were too occupied with themselves most of the time," Paris said, emphasizing rather the former than the latter and leaving out all the sordid details. She was no longer mad at her parents for being the way they were, but she was glad she had had her nanny who was like a mother to her.
"Sorry," Finn said, sensing a slight sad tone in her voice, taking the last sip of his coffee.
"It's fine, ancient history," she said. "Timoteo, please let the other kids ride down the slide too!" she shouted a second later.
"So have you taken your own advice - dated guys with kids?" Finn asked after a pause, hesitating whether he was crossing a line.
The next second Leah sprinted across the playground towards a kid with a balloon bouquet. It was apparently the boy's birthday. Finn ran after Leah, just barely missing her as she slipped on some sand. The corners of her mouth rolled downwards, and half a second later a distressed cry left her throat.
"Come on, Leah, let's go take a look," Finn said, holding Leah in his arms and sitting down on a concrete planter box, reaching for his water bottle. "There-there, it's going to be fine, my love," he hushed, pulling up a leg of her leggings that appeared already scratched and seeping blood.
"Here," Paris squatted next to them, offering a disinfectant wipe, before looking around in search of her own children to locate them again.
"Mommy!" Leah cried.
"Mommy's at school, I'm here, and see, Paris is here too," Finn said trying to calm her.
"And if you are really brave, I can give you a sticker," Paris said, holding up a large gold star to her.
"That's one hell of a hand bag you got there, any chance there's a band-aid in there as well?" he asked hopefully.
"Oh men, you'd be lost without us women," Paris sighed, smiling smugly while handing him a Hello Kitty band-aid.
Leah was no longer crying, a gold star glued to her sweatshirt, just the way she liked it, and Finn could again breathe more easily.
"Thank you," he sighed.
"If med-school taught me anything, it is that you always have to be prepared," she stated, "I'm glad I could help."
"I think we ought to get going soon," Finn said after a short pause, "she's getting a little tired."
"We too, have to go recharge these two as well," Paris replied a tad sarcastically, calling out to her kids, "Timoteo, Gabriela, three more minutes!"
"But I enjoyed talking to you, we should meet up sometime," he suggested.
"Sure, message me!" Paris said, as she walked over to her kids.
That evening when Rory returned from Yale, she sat down at her desk, ready to start her homework. But what she did, was something unlike her. She googled her new friend. After an hour, she knew a little bit more about her, but had yet to discover anything suspicious. There were a couple of namesakes. But it was not as if she'd ever checked her ID. She didn't like these creeping feelings in her stomach. Overall, that hour left her feeling sad and dissapointed in herself. Was this what she'd become? Another distrustful Huntzberger? Would she do the same, or even worse, hire a PI, each time her daughter went on a date?
