I Paid His Down Payment, But My Son Thanked His Stepmom Instead Chapter 03

When he was five, he lay across my lap one evening while I graded papers.

Out of nowhere, he said, “Mom, when I grow up, I’m gonna buy you a big house.”

“Then you won’t have to go to other people’s houses to teach every night.”

I smiled and asked him which floor I should live on.

He thought about it for a long time before answering, “The top floor. You’ll be able to see the stars.”

Back then, I figured it was all worth it.

Barrett’s company slowly got off the ground. He grew busier, and so did I.

When our son turned seven, we hired a live-in nanny.

Her name was Tamsin Voss.

She came from a staffing agency—twenty-two, from a small town in the next state over.

Her last employer had just kicked her out for stealing.

The day of the interview, her shoes were soaked and her eyes were red.

“Mrs. Marchetti, I didn’t steal anything. I swear I didn’t.”

“If you don’t hire me, I’ve got nowhere to sleep tonight.”

Barrett frowned. He wasn’t comfortable hiring her.

I was the one who gave her a chance.

I remembered how it felt when I first came to this town—alone, too scared to even cry out loud.

Tamsin was quick and good with kids.

She made him BBQ wings and played video games with him. Never nagged him about homework.

When I got home, I checked his homework and made him practice piano. One wrong note, and he’d have to start over.

One day I scolded him too hard. He slammed the piano lid and ran behind Tamsin.

“Tamsin never yells at me.”

“Tamsin’s nicer than you.”

Tamsin crouched down and hugged him, then looked up at me with a smile.

“Delphine, he’s just a kid. Don’t take it to heart.”

“You work so hard out there. I’ve got everything at home.”

Back then, I was genuinely grateful to her.

I gave her a raise and bought her new clothes for the holidays.

When she went home to visit, I’d have her take Rourke’s old clothes for her little brother.

She’d hold my hand and say, “Delphine, you’re the kindest person I’ve ever met.”

Junie’s frown deepened as she listened.

“Mrs. Marchetti, don’t tell me this Tamsin is the one who…”

I nodded. “She’s the woman next to Rourke’s father at the wedding. The one everyone treated like his mother.”

Junie opened her mouth, but no words came out.

The truth was, I found out way too late. So late it was almost funny.

When Rourke was in third grade, I was cleaning out his backpack and found a parent-teacher conference slip from his school.

The parent signature was in neat, pretty handwriting.

Tamsin.

Under “Relationship to Student,” one word.

Mother.

I stood in his room holding that slip for what felt like forever.

I hadn’t attended a single parent-teacher conference that semester.

I’d always assumed the school hadn’t scheduled any.

I took the slip to Rourke and asked him about it.

He was sitting on the carpet, building with LEGO bricks, and didn’t even look up.

“Tamsin said you were busy. She said you’d just ask the teachers what I was failing.”

“When Tamsin goes, the teachers always say she’s so sweet.”

“My classmates even said my mom looked really young.”

He said it so casually, like it was no big deal.

I crouched down to talk to him.

But he leaned away from me and shouted toward the kitchen, “Tamsin, I’m hungry!”

Tamsin came out in her apron. The moment she saw the paper in my hand, all the color drained from her face.

“Delphine, please don’t get the wrong idea. I just felt sorry for Rourke.”

“Every time there was a conference, all the other kids had their moms. He was the only one without.”

“I figured I had the time, so…”

Her voice broke, and tears began streaming down her face.

That night Barrett came home, heard the whole story, and loosened his tie.

“What’s the big deal?”