Alexander
MM.
Maybe she’s a Margaret or a Millicent or Mollie. A Mary, or a Maddie, or something trendy like a Miley.
Mary Moore.
Miley Montgomery. Margaret Mackenzie.
I could just look her up on my employee database, of course. A few keystrokes and I’d have every M name on our books at my fingertips.
But I don’t.
There is something so ethereal about this girl’s presence in my home.
One wrong move could blow that sweet illusion away.
At the other extreme, knowing her actual name might give me dangerous options, so I force myself to remain ignorant.
I name her Molly May instead. I like that. Sweet Molly May.
Molly May enjoyed her breakfast, her note told me so.
This morning I didn’t leave another, just made sure there was an empty bowl and spoon on the tray on the island, trusti
