The day passes quickly, mostly because I get caught up in the chaos of Giana’s life – helping her and the children pack for their mini vacation, sorting through the wreckage of the children’s room for lost bathing suits and sunglasses, ordering the fast delivery of sunscreen and other final touches.
When the cab pulls around to the front of the house late that afternoon, it’s quickly followed by the caterers, who are back with dinner. I blink in surprise at this, shocked that I’ve apparently lost a whole day helping Giana organize her trip.
“Thanks for doing this, Iris,” Giana says, surprising me by wrapping her arms around my neck and giving me a tight hug. “It was…a good idea. I think the kids need it.”
“Of course,” I say, wrapping my arms around her and giving her a hug back, watchi
