Chapter 6: Drawing Lines in the Sand

After the introductions, Grandma Carol kindly let me return to my own room to rest.

She gave me a polite nod, her words gentle but tinged with relief, as if she hoped I’d fade quietly into the wallpaper.

I agreed and brought the two kids with me.

The staff shot each other glances—maybe they’d expected me to send the kids back to their nannies, but I wanted them close.

Once in my room, I first told the staff to arrange my things and people.

Boxes were unpacked, quilts unfolded, and photos from home set on the dresser. The Flagstaff wind chime I brought for luck clinked softly in the window.

Then I said to Natalie and Caleb, "From now on, you two will come here every morning for breakfast."

My tone was warm, but firm—an invitation, not a suggestion. I wanted them to know this was their space too.

Natalie, already well taught by her nanny, answered sweetly, "Yes, Mom."

She glanced at her brother, nudging him with a practiced, gentle hand, echoing her mother’s kindness.

Caleb’s nanny, Mrs. Song, quietly said, "Ma’am, the little guy is still small… he can’t get up that early. How about I bring him over for dinner every day instead?"

Her voice was hesitant, almost pleading. She clutched Caleb’s hand, her thumb rubbing circles on his knuckles.

I glanced at Mrs. Song. I’d heard she was hardworking and treated Caleb like her own son, and it was true.

She looked tired, the kind of tired that only comes from loving a child who isn’t your own, always fearing you’ll have to let go.

But if a kid stays too long in the care of someone so overprotective, he won’t survive in this big family.

I remembered Grandpa’s words—sometimes loving someone means teaching them to stand on their own, even if it hurts.

I said lightly, "Caleb is three, not a baby. My breakfast isn’t early. As long as he goes to bed and wakes up on time, it’s no problem."

I met her gaze, making sure she knew I wasn’t being harsh—just determined.

Looking Mrs. Song in the eye, I said slowly, "Daniel’s busy with work—breakfast is the only time he’s home. Caleb’s lost his mom; should he not even see his dad all day?"

I spoke quietly, but every word was loaded with meaning. The look on Mrs. Song’s face said she understood, even if she didn’t like it.

The less Caleb interacts with Daniel, the more scared he’ll be.

It was time for new habits, new routines—one awkward morning at a time.

A boy can’t always grow up next to a nanny or mom—he needs his dad’s guidance.

I knew it wouldn’t be easy, but hard changes rarely are. Still, I wanted Caleb to learn to look his dad in the eye, to ask for what he needed.

Mrs. Song mumbled, "Yes, we’ll do as you say."

She dipped her chin, like she was bracing for a scolding at a PTA meeting, accepting my authority, but her eyes lingered on Caleb, full of worry.

Natalie’s nanny, Mrs. Zane, looked smug at Mrs. Song’s setback.

I caught the flicker of satisfaction and made a mental note—household politics ran deep here, deeper than the roots of the oldest oak in the yard.

After arranging things, I let the kids go rest.

I watched them pad down the hallway to their rooms, Natalie holding Caleb’s hand, both glancing back once before disappearing.