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She made sure to intertwine the long tails of theribbons into the pigtails tails."Well that about does it," Karen said, stepping back and making Martiespin around for her to examine. "I guess it's about time to get you hometo talk to Daddy."Martie's expression was that a person expecting something bad. "Do Ihave to?" he asked, more pleading than asking."Yes, you do," Karen said to her son. "And a little girl should beexcited to see her Daddy, especially such a daddy's girl that wouldadvertise it with a shirt like yours," she poked Martie's chest gently,drawing his attention to the "Daddy's Little Princess" printed on thefront of the shirt.Martie groaned, remembering what it said, and guessing what his dadwould say when he got home. "Momma," Martie said, after a thoughtfulpause. "Let's just go home and get this over with." His face was down-cast and he was sliding one foot meekly around dragging the toe acrossthe carpet carelessly."Okay sweetheart," Karen said, putting an arm around. Ronnie and George Kelleher just never seemed to get high enough on the lists. Until today. The phone call she had gotten from the enthusiastic agent at the adoption agency was the last straw. The beaming woman’s face had fallen when Ronnie told her that George had died three years ago. Regretfully the agent had told Ronnie that she would now have to take her off the lists. Ronnie had simply nodded and cut the connection. Now there was an advertisement: ‘Young single man requires part time housekeeper and gardener for home in eastern Brisbane, prefer person with broad-minded and happy outlook.’ Something about the two simple lines appealed to her. A part of her mind told her that she would be competing against hundreds of applicants because of the sex and age of the employer and she would be too old. Another told her that she needed to do something otherwise the large store of alcohol that George insisted on maintaining in the house would start to rapidly disappear. It was a vision of.
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