When Lucy came home in tears after a week of babysitting, I knew something was terribly wrong. My daughter didn’t cry often, but seeing her pale, tear-streaked face broke my heart. She stumbled through the door, breathless, and I rushed to her side.
“Lucy?” I asked softly, placing my hands on her shoulders. “What happened?”
She shook her head, struggling to regain composure. Her trembling hands and the look in her eyes said she was barely holding it together. I guided her to the couch and sat next to her as she clutched her sweater sleeve.
“Mom,” she whispered, voice cracking. “Mrs. Carpenter… she wouldn’t pay me.”
My chest tightened. “What do you mean? She wouldn’t pay you?”
“She said it was a life lesson,” Lucy sobbed. “‘Always get things in writing,’ she told me. ‘Never trust someone’s word.’” Her voice faltered. “She said babysitting was about learning hard work, and that was payment enough. Then she slammed the door in my face.”
I felt my anger rise. “She didn’t pay you at all?”
Lucy shook her head. “No. I babysat her kids for four hours a day, five days. I was going to use the $220 for that art course I’ve been saving for.” She wiped her eyes, frustration boiling over. “Her kids were awful. They threw toys at each other—and at me. They wouldn’t listen. I tried so hard, and she treated me like I didn’t matter.”
I pulled her into a hug. “You do matter, Lucy. What she did was wrong, and we’re going to fix it.”
I handed her the $220 from my purse, ignoring her protests. “You earned this. Take it for your art course. Let me handle Mrs. Carpenter.”
Lucy hesitated but eventually nodded. As she retreated to her room, I sat in the kitchen, my mind racing. Mrs. Carpenter had always been smug, but this crossed a line. She thought she could cheat my daughter and get away with it? Not on my watch.
The next morning, I rang Mrs. Carpenter’s doorbell with my warmest smile. She opened the door, surprised to see me. “Rebecca, what a pleasant surprise! What brings you by?”
“I just had to come thank you,” I said sweetly.
“Thank me?” she asked, confused.
“For the life lesson you gave Lucy,” I said, my tone dripping with sarcasm. “You know, about contracts and trust? Such a valuable experience for a young girl.”
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