The Call I'd Been Waiting For

A hundred points?!

I almost wondered if I had miscounted a zero—but no. It was unmistakably one hundred points.

"……."

A hundred points meant a hundred dollars, though…

Buzzing with excitement, I looked again at the doll clutched in Jennyfer’s hands as she bounced around with Reni. You couldn’t put a price on the happiness a child felt, and yet I couldn’t help thinking—was this really all right? The material cost of that doll was next to nothing.

"Daddaa!"

"Hm? Yes, Luca. Did you call Daddy?"

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Yeah."

"……You just wanted to call me, huh?"

"Yeah."

"All right. We should get going soon."

"Daddy, are you going?"

Reni, who had been chattering happily with his friend, came running the moment he heard I was leaving and threw his arms around me.

"My Reni. Can you listen well to the grown-ups over the weekend and have lots of fun with your friends?"

"Yes!"

"Good. Say bye-bye to Luca, too."

Reni took Luca’s hand and swung it back and forth.

"Luca, bye-bye! See you later!"

"Yeah."

As the brothers held hands and said their goodbyes, Jennyfer hovered shyly behind Reni. Her big eyes, though, stayed fixed on me. When the sister gave her a gentle tap on the back, the little girl jumped and blurted out,

"Thank you!"

Her small face flushed pink at once. She was the kind of child who found speaking to strangers hard—bashful and quiet. I dropped to one knee so we were eye to eye and gave her a bright smile.

"You’re very welcome. Thank you for liking the doll Uncle made. Keep being good friends with Reni, all right?"

Jennyfer couldn’t manage an answer; she only nodded.

On the way to Lemon Soup Pub, Luca and Charlie were already sparring in the back seat.

"Awwah!"

"No, Luca. If I give you the toy, you just put it in your mouth again. That’s a no-no!"

"Uung…!"

Faced with Luca’s thoroughly sulky expression, Charlie gave up on explanations and launched into a nursery rhyme, complete with simple motions.

"The itsy-bitsy spider climbed up the water spout!"

"……."

Even against a baby’s stony face, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Charlie refused to quit.

"The itsy-bitsy spider climbed down the water spout!"

And however prim and stubborn he looked, Luca was only nine months old.

"The itsy-bitsy spider…"

"Come on—ah-eye…!"

The toy he’d been trying to cram into his mouth was forgotten in an instant. The baby started chiming in with the song his big-brother figure was singing.

I caught the whole scene on camera, then turned to Cassandra.

"How does Charlie get along with kids so well?"

"There are a lot of younger kids in the neighborhood. He’s basically a pro from all the practice."

"He’s better than most adults. We could hire Charlie as a sitter on weekends."

Of course, leaving a child with another child was out of the question—but still.

We chatted about this and that until the car fell quiet for a moment, and my thoughts drifted back to the bonus points.

The slime doll born from Reni’s idea. The bonus points that came in when I made another one and gave it to his friend. I finally understood what the message had meant—bring children’s imaginations to life, and share that happiness with even more kids.

The exact criteria for bonus points still weren’t clear… then again, if it was based on each person’s happiness, trying to set a rigid standard might be pointless.

"Mmm…"

I must have hummed the sound of thinking out loud, because Cassandra asked what was wrong.

"Oh, nothing serious. It’s just—Jennyfer looked so happy earlier, I started wondering if other kids might like slime dolls too."

"That little dumpling doll from before? That was a slime?"

"Yeah. It was Reni’s idea. I think he came up with it after playing with slime as a sensory activity with the sisters at the church."

"Kids’ imaginations really are the cutest."

"They are. So… I can’t help being curious whether other kids that age would like them as well."

Charlie’s age group, for one, seemed completely uninterested. Luca, needless to say. There seemed to be some particular charm that only worked on four-year-olds.

"Are you going to make dolls to sell?"

"What? No, nothing like that."

"Then… donate them?"

"Hmm… that wouldn’t be bad either."

Of course, there was no guarantee other four-year-olds would love them the same way.

"Hmm. Content like that could work pretty well, actually. Realizing kids’ imaginations, then sharing the results with the children around them."

It was almost the exact same thing the Manito App had said. Odd, I thought, glancing at her—only for Cassandra to snap her fingers mid-drive.

"How about we take a few orders from the neighborhood kids Reni’s age first? Once we confirm the designs are a hit with them, we could donate to local daycares or charities for kids in need."

"Oh—yeah. That sounds great."

If we made a video around it, we could naturally promote the organizations that needed donations. The kids would be happy, and my wallet would fill up too. Hard to ask for better than that.

"Then I’ll send you a few sketches so the neighborhood kids can look through them easily and pick."

As long as I had the body color for the slime and the shape and color combos for the little cushions to attach, making them wouldn’t be hard.

"Okay! Time to work even harder at everything now!"

After a smooth performance at the pub, it was the middle of the night by the time we got home. I carefully laid Luca—who had fallen asleep in the car—into bed, did a few quick chores, washed up, and stretched out beside him.

"……Look at you sleep, baby."

Mouth set in a tiny firm line, breathing evenly—he looked like a little angel. When I rested a finger lightly against his hand, he curled his fist around it even in his sleep. His hands were still so small. Why did it already feel like he had grown so much?

Watching him like that, I drifted off into an easy sleep.

I spent a peaceful Sunday alone with Luca, and Monday morning I got up before dawn to start the desserts for the café delivery.

Egg yolks, sugar, vanilla bean paste, cornstarch—mix. The soft scrape of sugar blending in was strangely satisfying. Once everything was well combined, I poured in the hot milk and stirred…

Thanks to the early hustle, a full tray of mouthwatering chocolate éclairs was ready by the time the sun was fully up. The sweet smell filled the whole living room. Only then did I pour myself a coffee and take a contented bite of a warm éclair—just as the king of the house called for me.

"Daddy! Baa!"

"Yes, Luca. Daddy’s right here."

How did he always wake up right on time? I scooped up the baby who was still half-asleep and already hunting for his dad, carried him out to the terrace, and let him soak in a little sun. He broke into a shy little smile.

"Our Luca—do you like having just Daddy on the weekends?"

"Yeah."

"Good. My pretty baby, let’s eat."

I settled him into his high chair and put a bottle of pre-made baby food in his hands; he managed the rest himself. In the meantime I finished the last of my éclair, packed the desserts, changed clothes, loaded him into the stroller, and headed downstairs—where I came face-to-face with a pale white ghost.

"Aaah!"

"Oh my, I’m so sorry!"

James, face covered in a stark white pack, startled right along with me and apologized.

"No, no—I’m sorry. I must not be fully awake yet."

I smoothed a hand over my still-pounding chest and apologized in return. Privately, of course, I still thought James was the one at fault!

We exchanged a look, then both laughed in resignation.

"You can’t just stand around like that when there are no customers yet!"

"Ha ha—but with the photo shoot today, I want to do everything I can!"

My eyes went round.

"Photo shoot? You mean for the recipe book?"

"Yes. Has your schedule not been fixed yet, Jun?"

"Ah… I finished the last interview, but they haven’t set a concrete date for the photo shoot."

"Is that so? Then maybe it’s because I submitted my recipes first. Looks like they schedule the shoots in the order the recipes come in."

"Could be."

After handing over the tray of éclairs, I caught a taxi with Luca and headed for the church. In the cab I gently supported the head of the baby dozing against the window, watching the scenery, and thought about plating for the coming photo shoot. I’d put it off because of how busy everything else had been—but I’d specifically asked Evan and Kelly for the favor, so I wanted to make something proper.

I found myself smiling without meaning to.

A ‘work’? Calling it a work of all things?

"……."

You’ve really grown, me. Good job.

On the way to pick up Reni I jotted notes here and there, sketching out plating ideas for the recipe book, when ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠a call came in under a name I hadn’t seen in a while.

I answered with a half-hopeful, half-wary heart. Was he involved in the guardian review process too? But wasn’t that a completely different field?

"Hello?"

"Of course. I even saved your number… How could I forget? Have you been well?"

"Ah—you must have heard from the Mother Superior."

His neat, clear voice carried cleanly over the line. Gabriel explained that quite a few people, including himself, had gotten involved in this matter, and stressed again and again that they were working hard for the child’s happiness and mine.

All I could do was keep saying thank you; I didn’t know what else to answer with. I wanted to ask how the guardian review was going, but I held it in and listened through Gabriel’s endless… endless self-congratulation.

"……."

Strange. He hadn’t given this impression when we met before. Somehow he was starting to remind me of the Father…

"Yes, I’m listening. Thank you."

"Ah—yes. Of course. Thank you!"

"What?"

With that, Gabriel hung up.

We had just arrived at the church. I scooped up Reni as he came running and went looking for the Mother Superior—but Sister Greta shook her head.

"The Mother Superior is out at the moment."

"Is she somewhere important? There’s something I wanted to ask her."

"What is it about?"

"Well… about becoming the children’s guardian…"

"Ah. She said if you asked anything along those lines, I was to tell you simply: ‘Just believe.’"

Is that really okay?