It Takes Two. Joanne Michael

time playing with that dog, didn’t you?”

      “I sure did!” Sylvie said.

      “How would you like it if you were here every day to play with her?”

      Sylvie’s brow wrinkled. “But I am here every day, Dad, while you work.”

      “Yes, yes you are. But how would you like to live here for the summer?”

      “Really? Live with Gran? All three of us?”

      “Well, that would be a bit much to ask of Gran,” Marc said. “How about we try it just you girls for the time being?”

      “Where will you live?” Sylvie asked.

      “On the boat. Just for the summer season.”

      “Why can’t we live in our house?” Sylvie asked.

      “I was thinking, our house is so nice and we’re so lucky to have Gran’s house to stay at and the boat, well it’s kind of selfish. So maybe we could let some other people use our house for the summer. What do you think of that?” Marc held his breath.

      Sylvie was giving the matter ample thought. “I guess it’s okay,” she said slowly. “But they have to pay us lots of money!”

      Marc stared at his daughter a moment, then burst out laughing. Never underestimate the ability of a child to get right to the heart of the matter. He gave her another hug.

      “Now, is your homework done?” Marc said.

      “I guess…”

      “You don’t sound convinced. Why don’t you let me see it?”

      Looking like she’d rather do anything but that, Sylvie reached down to the floor and picked up a spelling workbook and handed it to him. “This is what we were doing today,” she said and went back to her drawing of Figgy.

      Marc opened the workbook to the most recent assignment.

      “You left half the answers blank,” he said gently.

      Sylvie shrugged and kept her eyes on the drawing.

      “Sylvie?”

      She slowly set the pencil down and looked at him. “I was supposed to finish it tonight.”

      “Finish?”

      Sylvie nodded, looking down at her hands. “Madame Simard made us work in groups today. We were supposed to read the questions and answer them. But, I—I couldn’t and the other kids laughed and—”

      Whatever else she was going to say was lost as Sylvie broke into tears. Quickly, Marc slid closer to her and put an arm around his daughter’s shoulders.

      “Shhhh,” he said softly. “It’s okay.”

      Sylvie gave a mighty sniff and pulled away. “I hate it when the other kids laugh at me,” she said, wiping her nose with her sleeve.

      “No one likes to be laughed at, ma fille.” Marc pulled his arm back. “What did Madame Simard say?”

      “Nothing,” Sylvie said sullenly. “She didn’t hear them. She just told me to finish my book at home. But Dad,” she looked up at Marc, “I think she wants to talk to you.”

      Marc nodded. “Uh-huh, she does. Your grandmother told me.”

      “She thinks I’m stupid, doesn’t she?” Sylvie’s voice trembled a bit.

      Marc felt his jaw tighten. “Did Madame Simard say that?”

      Sylvie shrugged.

      “Sylvie, did Madame Simard say you were stupid?”

      “She thinks I need a special teacher and two girls in class said only stupid people go to the special teacher.” Sylvie gave a loud sniff. “I’m sorry I’m stupid, Dad.”

      “Oh, Sylvie.” He hugged her to him and stroked her hair. “You’re not stupid. You just have your own way of learning things and you know what?”

      “What?” Her voice was muffled against his chest.

      “That makes you more interesting than any of the other girls in that school.”

      She looked up at him. “Really?”

      “Really,” Marc said. “Now, why don’t you go see if Gran wants to go have supper? I think I’m going to take my two favorite ladies out tonight. We’ll work on your homework before you go to bed. And, Sylvie,” he added before she could hop down and scamper off, “I love you.”

      “I love you, too, Dad,” she said.

      After Sylvie left, Marc again picked up the drawing. It really was remarkable how well she had captured the likeness of the little dog.

      “DAD, LOOK.” Sylvie was tugging at Marc’s sleeve and pointing. He glanced over to see Abby shutting the gate behind her and walking toward them.

      “Oh, hello,” she said.

      “We’re going to get hamburgers,” Sylvie said. “Want to come?”

      “Sylvie, I’m sure Miss Miller has other plans,” Marc said in a cautionary tone.

      “Other plans?” Françoise repeated. “The poor thing just got here, she hasn’t had time to make any plans. I’ll bet you’re on your way to find a restaurant.”

      “Actually, yes,” Abby said.

      “Then why don’t you come with us?” Françoise suggested.

      “No, I don’t want to impose,” Abby said. “If you’ll just point me in the direction of a place that’s open, that would be great.”

      Françoise shook her head. “The only spot open right now is Pierrette’s and that’s where we’re going. Please join us, we’d welcome your company. Wouldn’t we, Marc?” She looked pointedly at her son.

      “Sure, why not?” Marc said.

      “All right,” Abby agreed, “but under one condition.”

      “What’s that?” Françoise asked.

      “That you all start calling me Abby.”

      “Deal,” Sylvie said. “Can we go now? I’m starving!”

      “Okay, ma fille,” Marc agreed. “Remember to hold your grandmother’s hand when we cross the road.”

      Abby looked up and down the street and raised an eyebrow at Marc.

      “I know, it looks deserted now,” he said to Abby as Sylvie and Françoise walked ahead of them. “But, once the tourist season cranks up, it’s going to be pretty busy. I want Sylvie to get in the habit now of never crossing unless there’s an adult with her.”

      “Good idea.” Abby fell into step next to him. “Listen, I really hope I’m not imposing, crashing your dinner like this.”

      Marc shook his head. “Don’t worry about it.”

      “I have to say, you were the last person I expected to see today, much less at my landlady’s house.”

      “Yeah, about that,” Marc stopped and put a hand on Abby’s arm, holding her in place. “I think I owe you an apology, I was kind of rude back there on the ferry this morning, rushing off like that.”

      “Were you?” Abby asked mildly. “I hadn’t noticed.”

      “Right,” Marc said. “I just wanted you to know it had nothing to do with you.”

      “Well, isn’t that a relief.” Marc could hear the sarcasm in her voice. “It’s just, oh, never mind.” He started to walk down the street.

      “No, wait,” Abby said. “I’m sorry, now I’m the one being rude. What were you going to say?”