Pretend Honeymoon (Romance)

by Bella Grant

  I came upon a playroom that would be every child’s dream. Although the ambience itself was a little staid, the quality dollhouses and dolls were neatly arranged on a counter, the bookshelf with original classic fairytales, laptops, tablets…and, good God, the TV!

  I was drawn away from the items in the room as I focused on two dark heads bent over a book, reading. One was trying to help the other pronounce her words. They sat together on a couch in front of the television. What kind of children read books when they had all this to play with? If I had a television like this at home, I would have no need for going to the movies.

  One of the girls spotted me and whispered to the other. Two pairs of blue eyes focused on me before skittering away nervously.

  “Hello,” I greeted them, ambling inside with a friendly smile. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. I got lost. You know, you live in a very big house. Can you help me find my way, please?”

  They shook their heads, but I gathered they were more nervous than shy. As I moved closer to them, I realized how beautiful they were. They looked just like their father. For a second, I was startled at the profound resemblance.

  “I guess I’m stuck here with you, then,” I said on a dramatic sigh and sat on the small couch opposite them.

  “You’re not supposed to be here,” one remarked.

  “Yes, we’re not supposed to talk to strangers,” the other agreed.

  “But you won’t show me the way out,” I pointed out gently. “I hope you don’t mind sharing your clothes with me since I’ll be here for a long time if you don’t help me.”

  “You’re being silly,” the one I pegged as the leader of the two said. “You can’t wear our clothes.” The other giggled a little before her sister elbowed her.

  Although identical twins, there were enough differences between the two to easily differentiate them. Freckles, no freckles, a wider mouth on one, and one was slightly bigger than the other.

  “Say, was that The Princess and the Frog you were reading?” I asked them. “I like that book. Would you mind reading it to me?”

  The bigger one closed the book and placed it on the table between us. She didn’t say a word.

  “Oh, well, maybe I can pick up where you left off then, huh?” I suggested and made a grand show of taking up the book and skipping the pages. “Hmm. Ah, this is where you were.” I cleared my throat and started reading. “Baby Bear saw that his chair was broken in pieces.”

  The smaller one giggled again. “That’s not what it says.”

  “Are you sure?” I inquired. “Maybe you should read it, then, or better yet—”

  “What are you doing in here?”

  I jumped to my feet at Mr. Simpson’s harsh voice. Heat flooded my face as I turned to face him. He stared hard at me, as if trying to assess my purpose. I realized how it must look, lingering around the house when I should have been on my way already. I didn’t know which was worse. Having them think I was moseying up to the kids to sway them to choose me, or that I was sneaking around their house?

  “I’m sorry, I got lost,” I explained quickly. “I made a wrong turn after using the bathroom. I was asking your daughters to help me find the way out.”

  He stared at me long and hard until I held my breath. Mrs. Simpson walked up behind him, and her face registered surprise and a bit of disdain when she saw me. The way she touched his arm was territorial. I wanted to tell her, Slow your roll, girl. The last problem I need is a married man.

  “What are you still doing here?” she demanded and turned to her husband. “You didn’t hire her, did you? I told you to sleep on it.”

  My heart skipped a beat. He was thinking about hiring me? The hope slowly died. What did it matter anyway? With this woman in his ear, he would choose someone else to appease her.

  “Ms. Snow was just leaving, Pearl,” he announced without commenting on her words. “This way, if you don’t mind.”

  “Okay,” I agreed, but turned to the twins, who were observing us with interest in furtive glances. “Goodbye, girls. Maybe sometime you’ll get to share the whole story with me.” I waved to them with a smile, and when they didn’t respond, I followed Mr. Simpson from the room. I was relieved when his icy wife didn’t trail us. I was surprised she hadn’t, given her attitude. For all she knew, I would try to hump her husband in the hall.

  “I didn’t intentionally try to meet your kids,” I informed him when he held the door open. “They are wonderful girls, and I get it that your wife wants someone more experienced to take care of them. Do what’s best for your family.”

  “Wife?” he asked in bewilderment.

  “Umm…your wife,” I elaborated. “The girls’ mother who doesn’t like me very much.”

  The corners of his eyes crinkled in amusement. “You think Pearl’s my wife?”

  “Well…umm,” I hedged. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything and simply walked away. I had just managed to make an ass of myself. “I thought she was their mother.”

  “I’m a single father, Ms. Snow,” he clarified. “That’s why I need a live-in caregiver for them. Their mother is not a part of their lives.”

  “Okay. I’ll be going now. Thanks again.”

  Not sure what I was thanking him for, I scampered to my parked blue Chevy. Triple damn. This was the worst interview I’d ever done. How the hell had I screwed up so badly? And if that black-haired witch who’d tried to be tough on me in the interview wasn’t his wife, who was she? If she was his girlfriend, why wasn’t she a mother figure for his girls?

  Chapter 6

  Jarrod

  As I watched Ms. Snow leave, I couldn’t help feeling she was the one. It might have been how she had handled herself in the interview while Pearl grilled her. Possibly, it was the fact that I'd heard a little giggle from Isabella when she had been talking to them—the first time one of them had ever made a sound remotely close to joy. And she had been responsible. To have achieved that feat, I thought her a remarkable woman and a natural with kids.

  She had an essence about her, one that had made her respond to the job interview letter and which had somehow found a sliver of a connection with the girls. I knew she was the right person to choose. Better qualified women had been interviewed, but I doubted they would agree with my proposition. To keep myself safe, I also had to ensure the woman I chose wouldn't be dazzled by the lifestyle to such an extent that when the time came, she didn't want to leave.

  I closed the door and returned to the playroom to find out if Anabelle and Isabelle would want Ms. Snow for a nanny. They might not respond to me, but I at least wanted to try.

  I frowned as I remembered her affirming that she didn't expect to be in a committed relationship any time soon. I sensed her sincerity when she’d said it. A story was there for her to have passed that remark. I wouldn't have pegged her to be like Pearl and me, a loner with zero interest in relationships. Warmth was naturally infused in her tone when she talked. She seemed like a genuine nurturer. How else could she have prompted an uncharacteristic response from the girls?

  No laughter was evident on their faces when I entered the playroom. Pearl sat across from them, reading to them from Hansel and Gretel, but they looked miserable. I'd come to know their defensive stance, and they were seated, huddled against each other, clutching hands.

  Pearl read on unaware. She had no motherly inclinations, or if she did, they were buried too deep for her to get the hang of it on the first try. She had served to undo whatever magic Ms. Snow had woven into these children.

  At my entrance, Pearl glanced up at me with a smile. "I was just reading to them," she told me. "We were having a good time. Weren't we, girls?" They didn't respond.

  "Girls, continue with your reading," I instructed them. "I'll be back to talk to you in a bit. Pearl, may I have a word please?"

  "Sure."

  We left the room, and I glanced back at the kids, who were talking to each other in hushed tones. Oh, how I wished I could be included in their convers
ation. I'd like to know what went on in their heads. What did they talk about when they thought no one else was watching or listening?

  "Thanks for coming on such short notice," I told her gratefully. "You were really helpful. Some of the questions you asked were insightful."

  "I would be a failure in helping you today if I let you choose that Snow girl," she replied on a frown as we strolled to the front door. "You aren't seriously considering her, are you?"

  "She seems to be good enough for what I have in mind."

  "You're not serious, Jarrod!" she protested. "Of all the women you interviewed today, she was the least suitable. You can't tell me you didn't realize that. She has no experience taking care of children. No qualifications in that regard either."

  "I'm sure she'll do just fine," I stated. She was blowing the whole thing out of proportion. Why did Laurel Snow bother her so much?

  "It's for your own good, Jarrod. Did you see the way she tried to play up to your kids? She probably thinks she can start off as a nanny and before long, she'll be Mrs. Simpson."

  I frowned at her suspiciously. "You're being ridiculous, Pearl. Besides, why does it matter if that’s her goal?"

  "Well, you're my boss," she replied vaguely. "And-and I would hate for anyone to fleece you, and me knowing and not doing anything to stop it."

  "I'm not exactly dumb, you know."

  "But you're a man!" she exclaimed. "And men are not known for better judgment when a beautiful woman is concerned. They lose their heads."

  "We've worked together almost five years," I reminded her, "and I've not lost my head once. That should tell you something about me. I'm not fickle in my decisions. I'd like you to run a background check on her—on second thought, I'll do the background check."

  She stared at me incredulously. "You don't trust me?"

  "I didn't say that. Okay, go ahead and run the checks. You know the usual."

  I rang the driver to pick her up and take her back to the office to get her car. She promised me she would have the file on my desk sometime tomorrow. I took her word for it because this was Pearl. She always came through when she said she would.

  After she left, it was like a burden had been rolled from my shoulders. I couldn't remember a topic she and I disagreed on with such intensity. Usually, we were in sync about making decisions, but this time, I couldn't listen to her. I'd toyed around with the idea of sharing my true purpose with her, but on second thought, I changed my mind. I was glad I hadn’t. She would have thought me crazy.

  For the third time since getting home from work, I returned to the playroom. Why didn't they ever watch the television or use the computer? With a sigh, I sat across from them and saw the wariness in their eyes. They had quit reading and were trying to set up a puzzle on the table. My quick eye found the next piece, and I took it and handed it to Anabelle.

  “Thank you,” she said shyly.

  “You’re welcome,” I replied. “I’d like a little help from you. I’m trying to find the best person to look after you when I’m away.”

  “We take care of ourselves,” Anabelle answered somberly.

  My heart squeezed tightly at her pronouncement, knowing it was true. Their mother hadn’t been known for her sobriety, and even I had no idea the extent of what they had suffered. The neighbors had said she would leave them for long periods before returning. I wanted to curse her for not coming to me sooner, but there was no use feeling anger towards a dead woman. Besides, I hadn’t believed her initially when she came to see me.

  “You don’t have to take care of yourselves anymore,” I informed her. “That’s my job.”

  “Then why are you getting someone else to do it for you?” Anabelle asked in a pitiful tone.

  “Because I have to work,” I replied, though the excuse seemed shallow, especially when I could afford not to work. “So I need somebody’s help.”

  “We don’t like her,” Isabelle finally spoke up.

  My heart sank. If they didn’t like Ms. Snow, I wouldn’t force them to accept her as a caregiver. “Then I won’t hire her.”

  “She said she would be our new mommy,” Isabelle continued before her sister elbowed her.

  I was confused by her words. “Who said that?”

  “Nobody,” Anabelle answered, and Isabelle looked away.

  “Girls, if you don’t talk to me, I can’t help you.” I hoped none of my frustration was evident in my voice.

  “We prefer the woman with the gold hair,” Isabelle said slowly, and all the time, she looked at her sister as if they shared some secret conversation.

  “Ms. Snow?” I asked in surprise. “I thought you said you didn’t like her.”

  If they weren’t talking about Laurel Snow, then they could only be referring to Pearl. But they must have misconstrued her words. I couldn’t picture Pearl making a comment like that.

  “We don’t care who you hire,” Anabelle stated, her mouth pursed. “They’re only going to leave us anyway.”

  Her words further cemented what I already believed. My daughters didn’t need another caregiver who would pick up and leave them at a moment’s notice. They needed someone committed to raising them until they were off to college. They needed consistency. They needed a mother to love them as her own children.

  ***

  “She’s a liar.”

  Pearl barged into my office the next day, a look of triumph on her face. This morning, she wore a blue dress. Peal rarely wore dresses. She preferred pantsuits. I tried to remember a time when I’d seen her in a dress or a skirt but couldn’t recall. And she wore lipstick, a deep wine-red shade.

  “Wow, got a hot date after work?” I asked her.

  “Don’t try and change the subject,” she replied and approached my desk, placing both palms on the mahogany wooden surface, leaning in slightly. I wasn’t very comfortable with the hint of cleavage I was treated to by the V of the neckline of the dress.

  “Okay, who is a liar?”

  “Laurel Snow.”

  “Her police record isn’t clean?” I asked in alarm. I’d resigned myself to hiring her and was looking forward to calling her in the next day. The contract was already drawn up as well as the non-disclosure agreement she would be required to sign, but if her police record wasn’t clean, there was no way I would hire her.

  “It is clean,” Pearl replied. “But there’s something else.”

  Relief was short-lived at her smug look. “What is it? Why the suspense?”

  “I thought it was weird she would leave Foxx just like that,” she answered. “Especially since she couldn’t explain it. So I called David Foxx, who explained to me that she lied about having her degree, and when he found out, he fired her.”

  I frowned. If she had indeed done that, it was disturbing but hardly earthshattering news. “But didn’t she work there for almost a year? If she was doing a good job up to that point, why fire her? I’d have insisted she finish her degree, not fire her.”

  “But she lied!” she protested. “That’s the important thing. If she lied, you can’t trust a person like that. Wouldn’t she lie about other things?”

  “But she didn’t lie to us,” I pointed out. “She did explain she hadn’t finished, so I’d say she learned her lesson.”

  Pearl eased off the desk and gave me a black look. “Fine. Go ahead and hire her then.”

  “I’ll do just that.” Her sudden enthusiasm about who looked after Anabelle and Isabelle was a bit unsettling. She’d met the girls before and never really paid them any mind. Her attitude now reminded me of what the children had said to me. “Pearl, did you mention something to my daughters about being their mother?”

  She looked aghast at the thought. “Of course not! Why would I say such a thing?”

  “Never mind. I’m sure they were mistaken. Thanks again for your help on this.”

  She nodded sharply before leaving the office and closing the door soundly behind her. I shook my head. My assistant was getting strange on me and I
didn’t like it at all. I shrugged off the feeling and focused on the matter at hand. Time to call Ms. Snow for the business proposition that would involve doing more than merely being a nanny for the girls. If she were free later this evening, we could go through my proposal over dinner.

  A meeting at the office might be better since this was business, but a nice dinner at a fancy restaurant might do to help sway her mind. I hoped the large amount of money I offered her would be enough incentive for her time. It wouldn’t hurt to let her have a feel of what she stood to gain if she agreed. Not to mention that, at the restaurant, I would be able to assess how well she conducted herself in public before I asked for her hand in marriage.

  Chapter 7

  Laurel

  “Ms. Snow, we’ve made our decision. Can you step back inside please?”

  I barely contained rolling my eyes as I stepped into the small office, crammed with odds and ends. Mr. Kingsley and his wife had just interviewed me for the position of cashier at the grocer’s market and had asked me to step outside so they could cross-examine my application and talk about my interview before they made their decision.

  Like I didn’t already know they would hire me. They were delighted to have someone overqualified like me working there. To turn down my application was stupid when some of their workers had barely graduated from high school.

  I wanted to be anywhere but there, but after my interview for caregiver, I’d received a voicemail from this grocer. I should have called them back and advised them I couldn’t make the interview. At fifteen dollars an hour, I’d not be earning a lot. However, it would at least put food on the table.

  If only that woman Pearl hadn’t swayed Mr. Simpson.

  “Ms. Snow we’d like you to start on Friday,” Mr. Kingsley informed me. “We’ll teach you all you need to know about this place. Like a training session, but we’ll not pay you for this trial day. You’ll officially start on Monday at fourteen dollars an hour.”