To the reviewer who asked for a Matt and Cam scene, you're in luck! This is the first of a few really cute Matt and Cammie scenes that I've written, so I hope you enjoy it.
As a mother, I did not enforce the kind of domestic perfection—and by that, I mean discipline—that my own parents had. My mother had a husband who ran in the most elite Old Boy's Club in DC; two hellion daughters; and three charities, the DAR, and a sorority alumnae organization to take up her time. But somehow, she kept our house in Chevy Chase spotlessly clean, in the spring and summer there were fresh flowers from our garden in every room, and if Abby and I were going to run wild, we were going to do it outside, far away from the heirloom china and crystal.
I was reminded my own domestic inadequacy when I came home from a meeting on a Saturday afternoon and found Matt and Cammie sitting on the living room floor. They were surrounded by dolls, shredded newspaper, and a teetering pile of board games, with a strange collection of chess pieces, checkers, and candy arranged on the floor between them. I didn't bat an eye as they looked up just long enough to smile at me to welcome me home.
"How many men—I mean, gender non-specific agents—should we send in the car?" Matt asked, holding up Cammie's doll's plastic convertible car.
Cammie—still in her pajamas, like her dad—bit her lip.
She would, I realized be starting the second grade in a month, and suddenly, I remembered how much I had hated the second grade.
"I don't think more than three could fit in the trunk, could they? And I don't think it would be very comfy. But I think it would be best if we could get four people in the car—that way, one person could stay near the car while the three other people spread out, like—" She made a flourishy, pushing motion with her hands—like water fanning out from a fountain. "The hangar's not that big, is it? You won't need five people, right?"
"I think four people is perfect. Remember, there are still two other agents nearby—" Mat picked up a doll that was sitting next to the collection of chess pieces that were supposed to show the walls of a hangar, I guessed, and pointed at a stuffed rabbit that sat at Cammie's feet, along the exterior candy-border of the facility. "So if they need help inside of the hangar, their backup can get there quickly."
Was Matt really asking our seven-year-old daughter to help him plan an attack on an arms dealer's compound in the Scottish Highlands?
"But where is the fourth person going to hide? You said it was a fancy car—"
"Ah! We'll leave that up to the research and development team. I've seen, before, in other cars, where they've carved out a hole in the seat cushion that's big enough for someone my size to curl up into a ball like a hedgehog, and then they stretch another cover over top, so you can't see it at all—"
I cleared my throat, and their heads swung towards me, looking sheepish. They'd forgotten I was there.
"I hate to end this devious planning session—" Matt looked a little more sheepish than Cam did, I decided. "But Cammie, sweetie, we have to leave for gymnastics in fifteen minutes."
Cam looked heartbroken.
"Okay…" She said, slowly standing up. She looked around at the mess that had taken over the living room, as if only just noticing that it existed. "Do I—" She waved her hand at the chaos.
"It's alright, Cam. We can take care of that later. Or maybe daddy can take care of that while you're at class?" I asked, as she nodded and scampered up the stairs.
Matt remained on the living room floor. He looked a little surprised by the degree of the mess that he had created.
"So, the bonus you're going to get from completing this sting—"
"Will go towards Cam's college fund, yes." He nodded.
"And when one of the higher-ups asks about how you developed this plan—"
"I will tell them that my brilliant seven-year-old daughter inspired me to pull a Trojan Horse, and that her curiosity helped me to refine the plan."
"And if something goes wrong—"
"It will be all my fault. However—" He finally stood up, and kissed me once on the cheek. "It's a pretty good plan, Rach. It's got a lot of potential."
I shook my head and sighed, fighting back my smile. Dad had let me sit in on a few meetings with his fellow agents when I was little, and it meant everything to me. After this—and that NSA code incident a few years ago—I realized that Matt and I really had created a dangerous kid.
Perfect and beautiful, but dangerous.
"So," I continued. "You will have this cleaned up by the time we get back from gymnastics, right?"
"Of course." He said, smiling warmly. "I'll even have dinner made."
"You see, Matt, that's what I call a good plan."
He chuckled, twice, loudly, and bent down to start separating the checkers from the chess pieces.