Sixteenth Lovely

Into the evening, I sat on that desk. I called the technician. Called the Santa. Called another Santa. Hired a conservator. Hired a caterer. Called the head chef. Called another Santa. Called another Santa. And yet another because, for some reason, any credited Santas are already booked in early-November.
After some time, I'd given up on Santa and was into researching a pop art collection I was planning on attempting to get in January. While I was just starting to get a feel for it, my phone rang. I didn't recognize the caller but answered anyway.
"Hello?"
"Hello," a raspy female voice answered, "is this Samba Miske?"
"Yes, why?"
"Do you have a daughter?"
I paused, "Why?"
"I'm Mrs. Mildew, I work as a secretary at Buddy's Pet and Play in Gwinnett. A young girl by the name of Couro claims this is her father's line. She's here unattended after hours, I'm gonna need you to come pick her up."
Sighing, I texted Gora, asking where he was. "Where's her brother?"
"She says he dropped her off. You need to come to get her."
"Give me half an hour, I'll be right there."
"Thank you, she'll be in my office. Go in through the front of the pet center, then straight down to the row of doors. Mine should have my last name on it: 'Mildew.'"
"Okay, thank you." She hung up.
Frustrated, I lifted myself from my work. I checked the clock, about a quarter after ten. I sighed and shut my computer. As I went to go get my jacket, I called Gora. No answer--expected. I called him again. Still nothing. One more time, I called as I walked out the door. Absolutely nothing. So, I shot him another quick text. This time, a bit more irritated.

So you abandoned her, huh? Can't wait to see you at home.

For maybe twenty minutes, I cruised along, following the GPS's voice. While I gripped the wheel with my palms, my fingers jittered on it. Instead of turning on music, I let the car be silent, deeply breathing in and out. Eventually, I reached. There was a large pet center to one side and the rest of the lot was a fenced-in play yard for pets and their owners. I went into the building and was met with a cold blow of air. Inside was dimly lit and empty, the only sound being the rolling of a trash can.
I walked, right down the hall. I listened to the sound of my slippers flopping against the tile as I neared an array of doors. Each had a name on it, and the second one read "Rosa." I knocked on it and almost immediately, I could hear someone getting up and walking towards me. I took a step back and watched the door creak open.
A thin, older woman in a white uniform and brown apron opened the door. "Samba Miske," I said flatly. "I'm here for Couro."
Mildew hummed. "I really should call the police." I looked down, avoiding her intense gaze. "I've never seen you two here before. First time?" I nodded. "I'll just make a note for now. Try this again and you're in trouble, you hear me?"
I looked up, "Oh, thank you so much."
"Thank my daughter." Mildew moved aside to let me peer into her office. It was typical box-like room, cluttered with papers, posters, and folders. Pushed up against the wall was a small, battered, red couch. On it, Couro sat next to a woman, who looked like Mildew but thirty years younger. They both shared long black hair and a darker olive complexion. The other woman, however, glowed a bit more and smiled at me. Mildew looked between us and rolled her eyes, "Rachel here's the one who convinced me to sit here past my time instead of shipping the girl off in a police car."
"Hi, Daddy!" A pair of arms wrapped themselves around my waist as Couro buried her face in my stomach. "Ms. and Mrs. Mildew taught me how to play spoons."
"Ms. and Mrs.?"
"Yeah!" She pointed at Mildew, "Mrs. Mildew." Then at Mildew's daughter, "Ms. Mildew." Couro cupped her mouth and whispered, "That means she's not married."
"Please," Ms. Mildew spoke up. Her voice had a certain sweetness to it. "Call me Rachel." Rachel it is.
"Well, thank you, Rachel." I smiled again and ushered Couro out the door. "So, Couro and I will be heading off."
Still smiling, Rachel enthusiastically waved us goodbye.