Gertrude’s jaw fell open in feigned shock. “Well, I certainly do. There’s nothing like counting down to the next birthday, is there? I can’t wait for mine. I love to bake cakes. Maybe you can come over next time and help me eat them.”

“Yes, please!” he bellowed.

Deepa set him down, handed him a few crisp bills. “Be a good boy and give this to Mrs. Darrow.” She patted his head. “Go on, she’s waiting.”

Vijay took off. His feet barely connected with the surface of the steps. Gertrude supposed she hadn’t been around little children enough to know how nimble they were, sprightly, energetic, like pogo sticks, the perfect blend of balance and power.

“Deepa, if you ever need me to watch your little boy, you can drop him off at my place anytime,” Gertrude said. “Most of my classes are in the evenings. I’d be happy to keep him during the day.”

“Thank you, Gertrude, I appreciate the offer. I’ll definitely think about it. Mrs. Darrow is a sweet lady, but she doesn’t seem to have the energy to keep up with Vijay. She’s always canceling because of her migraines.”

Gertrude opened her bag, pulled out a sheet of paper, a pencil, wrote down her contact information. “Here’s my phone number.” She folded it in half, handed it to Deepa.

“Thank you,” Deepa said.

Deepa didn’t wear a ring on her finger, though Gertrude wasn’t sure whether Indian women wore wedding bands. A bindi, certainly, and Deepa had a red one painted between her eyebrows. But Gertrude wasn’t sure about rings.

“I’ve got to get Vijay home. He’s had a long day. But I’ll call soon,” Deepa said. “Perhaps you can come by later in the week for tea, spend some time with us so we can get to know one another. Vijay’s quite an active little boy. If you’re really interested in the job, I’d like to make sure you understand what you’d be getting yourself into.”

“Looking forward to it,” Gertrude said. She fingered the pencil in her hand, slid it above her ear. “See you soon.”

Deepa smiled. She glided down the steps. The skirt of her dress billowed in the wind. She approached Vijay and the sitter, took her son’s hand, guided him away, toward the street where, Gertrude imagined, they would catch the 803 bus home.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Atlanta

August 12, 2016