Chapter 2
Wendy Mercer had spent thirty-two years in childcare.
She started with six children in the basement of her first house.
Then opened Little Harbor Learning Center.
Then a second location.
Then three more.
By sixty, Wendy had become locally respected.
Parents knew her.
School principals knew her.
City council members attended Little Harbor fundraisers.
Birthday photographs showed Wendy hugging generations of children.
She loved saying:
“I raised half this town.”
Luca grew up inside those centers.
After college, he returned as business manager.
By twenty-eight, he was chief operating officer.
Jessi met him at a charity 5K sponsored by Little Harbor.
At first, she liked Wendy too.
Wendy was overwhelming but generous.
She brought food when Jessi was pregnant.
Bought Fiona a crib.
Showed up with diapers nobody requested.
Then Fiona became mobile.
That was when Jessi started seeing another side.
Wendy believed toddlers needed “firm correction.”
Not abuse, in Wendy’s mind.
Correction.
At eleven months, Fiona reached for Wendy’s earrings.
Wendy slapped the child’s hand.
Jessi immediately said:
“Don’t do that.”
Wendy laughed.
“She needs to learn.”
“She’s eleven months old.”
“She understands more than you think.”
At sixteen months, Fiona threw food.
Wendy squeezed her wrist and said:
“No.”
Hard enough that Fiona cried.
Jessi took the child back.
“Do not physically discipline her.”
Wendy rolled her eyes.
Luca later said:
“Mom’s old school.”
Jessi answered:
“Then old school stays away from Fiona.”
He promised.
That promise lasted approximately three weeks.
Whenever Jessi worked late, Luca occasionally took Fiona to Little Harbor’s main center before coming home.
Jessi learned that after seeing a photograph in a staff group message.
She confronted him.
“I told you I don’t want your mom disciplining her.”
“She was around staff.”
“That is not what I said.”
“She didn’t touch her.”
“How do you know?”
“Because she knows you’re crazy about it.”
Crazy.
Another small word Jessi remembered later.
Then Wendy announced her sixtieth birthday party.
Large banquet hall.
Nearly a hundred guests.
Former Little Harbor employees.
Family friends.
Parents whose children had attended years earlier.
Jessi almost declined.
Luca pressured her.
“If you don’t go, she’ll make it a thing.”
Jessi stared at him.
“She always makes things a thing.”
“Two hours.”
They went.
During dinner Fiona knocked over a spoon.
Wendy corrected her.
Jessi moved Fiona’s chair closer to herself.
During cake, Fiona reached toward the red frosting.
Wendy slapped her cheek.
Hard enough that the room went quiet.
Jessi reacted.
Cake.
Stew.
Shouting.
Then the silence captured in the fifteen seconds afterward.
Now Marissa Cole was saying that same hand had touched other children.
Jessi replied:
Can we talk?
Marissa answered:
Not by phone.
May you like
Then:
And don’t tell Luca I contacted you.
