Chapter 3 - The Yellow Gloves
It was real, uninhibited laughter.
The kind of laughter Arthur had never heard from her before.
Not the careful, hesitant smile she wore whenever she greeted him in the hallway.
Not the polite, deferential expression employees gave their wealthy employer when answering questions about schedules.
This was genuine, deep, and hysterical.
She was laughing so hard she could barely draw air into her lungs.
Her usually neat brown hair had come completely loose from its silver clip, strands falling across her flushed face. Her cheeks were bright pink.
And somehow, her bright yellow rubber cleaning gloves were still pulled over her hands.
And his four-year-old twins?
Leo and Oliver were treating her as if she were the world’s greatest playground structure.
One child was bouncing frantically on her legs, while the other was actively climbing over her shoulders, both of them screaming with pure delight.
Tiny blue sneakers flew through the air, landing near a mahogany side table.
Little denim overalls blurred as the boys jumped again and again onto the carpet beside her.
Their tiny, high-pitched voices filled the entire two-thousand-square-foot room.
May you like
Pure, unadulterated happiness.
The exact kind of happiness Arthur had almost forgotten existed inside his own home.
