The Longest Weekend

Your available balance is $343.62.

Skye hung up the phone with a sharp click, her heart pounding louder than she’d expected.

She yanked open the desk drawer, rummaging past crumpled receipts, a dried-out pen, and a mystery key. Her fingers finally closed around the scratched plastic edges of her old calculator. She

pulled it out as if it was a lifeline.

With nervous trembling and extreme force, she pounded the bright yellow oversized buttons, calculating how much she’d need to scrape together in the coming weeks.

The weight of reality crashed over her like a tidal wave, laced with the sharp sting consequences of her choices.

The overdraft fees and careless spending had gradually drained her bank account, leaving her vacation plans teetering on the edge of impossibility.

If she wanted to make it to Spain with her college friends, she’d need a miracle… or a second job.

The Sisterhood Squad, a name they adopted in college, had not seen each other in years. After graduation, Chanel joined an accounting firm, got married, and now has two kids. Gabby—short for Gabrielle—landed a job at a tech company on the West Coast. Skye moved back to her parents’ house in New York, holding out for her big break in the fashion world.

Living in the basement wasn’t glamorous, but it wasn’t terrible either. The arrangement gave Skye just enough space to juggle part-time work and chase her dream of becoming a fashion designer.

Skye had extraordinary talent. She could sketch, sew, and style with ease—but when it came to putting herself out there, her confidence crumpled. She’d once launched an ecommerce store, but her lack of self-confidence slowed her down. Orders lagged, customers drifted, and eventually the shop went quiet. She never tried again.

When Gabby and Chanel suggested taking a trip abroad, Skye instantly agreed. She had more than a few reasons for wanting to go on this trip. Reuniting with her close friends may inspire her to take charge of her life again, but this time, fearlessly.

She really wanted to see Gabby and Chanel again. She had to. If she picked up another temp assignment, she could pull together at least a thousand dollars by the end of the month—just $600 short of her goal. A second gig wasn’t optional anymore; it was a necessity, and she needed it fast. They’d agreed to buy their plane tickets together so they could all be on the same flight. She has thirty days to come up with her share of the airfare.

Browsing the local classifieds, an ad for a weekend babysitting job caught Skye’s attention. It was at a rural home two hours outside the city. The pay is unusually generous, and while it seemed too good to be true, she figured the remote location was likely the reason for the offer.

“Hi there, this is Mr. Griffin.”

“ Hi, I’m calling about the babysitting job for this weekend.”

“Yes, well, my wife can tell you more about it, but she can’t come to the phone now. Can she call you back in about an hour?”

“Sure.”

Skye didn’t hold out much hope that they would actually call back, so she moved on to the next listing that she’d highlighted.

Ten calls later, Skye set the newspaper aside and pulled a blanket around her shoulders, seeking comfort in its warmth. She mindlessly scrolled through the endless channels, finally landing on a comedy show. A good laugh—that’s exactly what she needed right now.

Skye walked into the temp agency dressed casually, her hair pulled up into a neat bun.

Determined to land an assignment that day, Skye slipped on three-inch heels to give her 5'5" frame a little extra height and confidence.

She is always dressed to impress, whether it’s sleek business suits that turn heads at the office or perfectly fitted jeans and soft, flowing blouses that seem to drape just right after hours. Her golden skin glows in the light, warm and effortless.

Skye's face is undeniably striking, with high cheekbones that lend her an air of sophistication and thin lips that always curl into a playful smile. Her eyes, dark and captivating, hold a quiet intensity that draws people in, sparking curiosity with every glance.

“So, you’re back?”

“Are you planning to stay on an assignment long enough to potentially land a full-time position?”

“We have an obligation to our clients to provide workers who are actually going to stick around—at least long enough to see if the company wants to hire them, especially on a temp-to-hire assignment.”

“I like you, Skye, but you’re starting to reflect poorly on our business.”

Skye half-heartedly smiled.

Ms. Tanner was a middle-aged woman who exuded an odd yet charming demeanor.

She still wore her hair in a proudly unapologetic mullet, short and practical in the front, with rebellious waves trailing down the back.

She owned shawls in every color and style imaginable, which she wore daily to the office, draped over her shoulders like a signature flourish.

Of course, I am. Just place me with a great company, and you’ll see.

“Don’t make me regret this.”

Skye was walking through the revolving door, leaving the temp agency, when she received a call from an unknown number.

“I was wondering if you might be available to come in for an interview, or if it’s easier, we could meet you somewhere nearby. We’d just like to get a sense of who you are and see how you interact with our girls.

“ I have an appointment in the morning, but I should be free in the afternoon.”

Skye met with the Griffins at a park, a midpoint between her house and theirs.

That Friday afternoon, Skye made her way to their house. Although they only needed her for Saturday and Sunday, they’d agreed it was best for her to arrive early.

She stepped out of her SUV and shut the door.

In one hand, she gripped a half-full cup of coffee, still warm despite the long drive. In the other, a large black duffel bag, slung over her shoulder. She paused for a moment, taking in the stillness around her—the kind of quiet you don’t get in the city—then headed toward the front steps, her breath curling in the crisp afternoon air.

In front of her stood a sleek, modern home crafted from cedar and glass. Its black metal roof was nearly entirely covered with solar panels, gleaming in the afternoon light.

“Now I see why they are paying me so much to watch their children for just a weekend,” she murmured. These people are loaded.

Skye walked down the long stretch of paved driveway, her footsteps echoing in the quiet. Before she reached the door, it swung open. Isabel, a tall, slender woman with loose blonde curls, stepped onto the porch, her face lighting up with a wide, welcoming smile.

“Well hello, Skye,” we are so glad you’re here. C’mon in.

Carlos and the kids are in the kitchen eating breakfast.”

“You have a beautiful home, Mrs. Griffin.” I love the marble floors.

“You can call me Isabel, darling.”

"Hi, Skye!" he said, flashing a grin. Glad to see you.

“Are you hungry?”

Carlos was quite shorter than Isabel. From first glance, he looked a bit shorter than Skye too.

He had a broad, rounded frame and a noticeable stomach that stretched slightly against his button-up shirt.

His skin was warm-toned, and his short black hair was curled tightly against his scalp.

Isabel possessed the striking beauty of a model—tall and poised, with an effortless grace that turned heads. Her skin was smooth and radiant, glowing with a warm golden-bronze hue. Her dark brown eyes were framed by bold brows and long lashes that added to her captivating presence.

Carlos must either have one heck of a personality—or a whole lot of money—for Isabel to settle for him, Skye thought with a smirk.

“We’ve got to hurry and get on the road, but before we do, I’m gonna give you a rundown of things,” Isabel stated.

“I put together this neat notebook for you.”

“You’ll find the kids schedules, their grandparents phone number, places where you can order food, our phone numbers, and basically everything I thought you would need to get through this weekend.”

“Oh, I almost forgot, take this; we’re paying you upfront, and there’s a little extra in there for you.”

“Mrs. Griffin, you didn’t have to.”

“I know,” she smiled and winked.

It’s the least that we can do. You came through on such short notice.

Everyone said their goodbyes, and the kids stood in the driveway, waving until their parents’ Range Rover disappeared from their view.

The weekend began as expected. Sophia, Camila, and Paola, all three years apart, starting at 5 years, were extremely well-behaved and had displayed great mannerism. Skye thought that this was strange for such young girls.

Starting at just five years old, they exhibited an eerie sense of composure, as if they'd been taught to behave like little adults.

They were too poised for children who should still be discovering the limits of their independence.

Sunday afternoon arrived, and the Griffins should have been home by noon.

Skye dialed Isabel, and her phone went straight to voicemail. The same with Carlos.

Every hour, like clockwork, she dialed their numbers again—each time with the same result.

Midnight struck, and they still hadn’t returned. Skye, her anxiety growing with each passing minute, dialed the number they had given her for the girls’ grandparents.

“The number you have dialed is not in service.”

She slammed the phone down and began pacing back and forth across the kitchen.

Shaking her head in disbelief, while secretly hoping that Isabel and Carlos would be pulling into the driveway at any moment, she forced herself to stay calm.

“I didn’t sign up for this,” she murmured.

All I wanted was to make some extra money so that I could go to Spain. Something told me that this was too good to be true.

The sun rises. Reality sets in. She's been left with these children, possibly abandoned.

She had to come up with a plan so that she could go back home and to work.

Skye contacted the local authorities. A social worker arrives right before sunset.

“So you’re telling me that you answered an ad for a babysitting job, to stay overnight, and the parents have not come back?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“Did you call them?”

“Several times, like I already told you.” I even called the number that they left for the girls’ grandparents. That number is out of order.

“How many times did you try to call the grandparents?”

“Ma’am, these are not my children. I’ve got to get home, and someone needs to come to get them or take them to their house until their parents can be located.

"I understand your frustration, but we have to focus on what’s in the best interest of the children. The last thing we want is to cause them any trauma."

“Trauma?”

“Lady, I’m the one who’s traumatized.” Do you have any idea what I’m feeling right now?

I accepted a weekend job to make some quick cash. I didn’t sign up for this.

I am not an instant parent.

“Well, I will contact the police, we’ll file a missing person’s report, and I will be in contact with you to let you know the next steps.

“We can’t just take the children. They’re not here alone. There is a process we must follow.”

By mid-week, child protective services returns. Skye is told she can walk away, no blame.

“But what will happen to the girls?”

“They’ll be placed in foster care temporarily, and hopefully foster families will be found for them; maybe they’ll be adopted.”

“What do you mean, foster families, plural?”

“It’s not likely that one family is equipped to take in three young children.”

Skye stared blankly at the wall and then blurted out words she never imagined.

“I’ll keep them."

What do I need to do to become their temporary guardian until we find their parents or other relatives?”

Months had passed since Skye had become an instant mom. The days were long, filled with learning how to stretch groceries, comfort night terrors, and remember birthdays, but she was slowly adjusting to her new role.

Then one afternoon, the call comes. The call that Skye had been waiting for before she bonded with the girls.

“Ms. Callahan, we’ve found a close relative of the girls. An aunt has been located. Someone from the children's mother’s side, living two states away. She’s stable, recently widowed, and willing to take all three kids.

Of course, we’ll need to substantiate that she is indeed a relative, but in just a short while you will finally be free to go back to your former life.”

“You found someone, huh?”

“Well, I guess, never mind.” Can I call you back?

Skye doesn’t sleep that night.

For the next three weeks, she barely slept.

The girls, crying and begging to stay with Skye, held on to her as long as they could. The goodbye was short—too short. The social worker loads the girls’ bags into a minivan. Within minutes, the minivan disappears.

Skye doesn't cry until the car is gone. She walks back inside. The house is too quiet, the silence no longer a relief.

She packs up her truck with all that could fit, along with a few memories from the girls. That summer, she finally books her trip to Spain. She goes alone.

On her last night abroad, she mails three postcards—one for each child. She doesn’t know if they’ll respond. But she hopes.