"I liketheblueone!"
I lean in and whisper to Connie. "Oh, for the love of God, let him wear it inside out. Who cares?" She
throwsher handsup.
Mrs. X clears her throat. "Okay, sweetie. We'll talk about this later." Connie disappears back into the
kitchen.
"Daddy,come see mytrains! I'll showyou the newone. It's red and really,really fast!" Grayer flies past
me towardhisroom.
"Thatwas a complete wasteof time. Heclearlycouldcareless," Mr. X says.
"Well, Janefeltitwasimportant?sheretortsdefensively.
"Who the hell is Jane?" he asks. "Look, do you have the slightest idea of what it means to be in the
middleof amerger?I don't havetime forthis?
"I'm sorry,but?
"Do I have to be on top of everything?" he growls. "The one thing I delegated to you was his schooling
andnowit's all fuckedup."
"It was averycompetitive year!" shecries. "Grayerdoesn't playtheviolin!"
"Whatthefuckdoestheviolin havetodowith anything?"
"Maybe if you'd spend an hour of your precious time with us he might have done better in his
interviews," shespits back.
"My precious time? My precious time? I am bashing my brains out eighty hours a week so you can
stand there in your pearls, with your eight-thousand-dollar curtains and your 'charity work,' and questionhowI spendmytime?!Who's goingtopayhis tuitionbills, huh?You?" "Honey." She softens. "I know you're under a lot of pressure. Look, since you're already home, why
don't we talk about it over a nice relaxing dinner? I made a reservation at that place you love, down by the river." Her kitten heels make little clicks as she walks over to him. Her voice drops. "We could get a roomatthePierre,maybetheonewiththedoubleJacuzzibath ... I've reallymissedyou."
It's quiet for a minute and thenI distinctly hear the sound of themkissing. Their lowlaughter drifts into
thehallway.
I'm just about to sneak off to Grayer's room when Mrs. X coos{ "Should I send a donation to St.
Bernard's with thetuitioncheck,sowe getoffontherightfootwith them?"
"Therightfoot?" He's againindignant. "Correctme ifI'm wrong,buthaven't theyalreadyacceptedhim?
"Butifwehaveanotherboy?
"Look, I've got to get back to the office. The car's waiting downstairs. I'll call you later." Mr. X swiftly
passes me,still wearingtheovercoathepresumablynever took off. Thedoor slamsloudlybehindhim. "Daddy? WAIT!!!!" Grayer comes running out with his red train. "DADDY!!!" He throws himself, screaming,againstthefrontdoor.
Mrs. X walks slowly into the hall and stands for a moment, glaring through Grayer at the front door until hereyes glazeover,thenwalksrightpastbothofustoherbedroom.
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"DADDY.1.'.'" He convulses with sobs, bending over, while holding tightly onto the doorknob. "1 WANT DADDY.'.'!" I sit down on the floor and reach out to hold him. He drops his head between his danglingarmsandawayfromme. "NOOOoooo.I wantmyDADDY!!!"We heartheelevator doorslide closed. "DON'TLEAVE.'.'.'.'"
"Ssshhh, 1 know." I circle my arms to pull him onto my lap. "I know, Grove." We sit on the floor as his tearsmake adark, wetspotonthekneeofmyjeans.I rubhis backandmurmur, "It's okay,Grove. Shhh, it's okaytobesad.We'll justsithereandbesadfor alittle while."
"Okay,"hesays intomypantleg.
"Okay."
PART THREE
Mammy had her own method of letting her owners know exactly where she stood on all matters. She knewitwasbeneaththedignityofquality white folkstopaytheslightestattentiontowhat adarkysaid, even when she was just grumbting to herself. She knew that to uphold this dignity, they must ignore whatshesaid,even ifshestoodinthenextroomandalmost shouted.
. ONEWITHTHEWIND
CHAPTER EIGHT
Frosting ontheCake
Connie,
RatherthanironingGrayer. sheetstoday,I. likeyoutopackthefollowingitems for Mr. X. Hissutis Shirts Ties Underwear Socks
Andanythingelseheuses. Theseitemsshouldbepackedanddownwiththedoormanbythree o. lock. Pleaseseethatouonlyusehisluggage(seemonogram).
"Nanny, have you seen Grayer's bow tie? I put it out last night." Mrs. X and Grayer are due at theApril Tea forNewSt. Bernard's Families intwentyminutes. Mrs. XisrummagingthroughGrayer's drawers
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while I try to wrestle him into an ultrastarched oxford, complete with stays in the collar, and Connie, I assume, issomewherein Mr. X's closetfillinghis monogrammedluggage.
"I needanelephant," Grayersays, pointingtothesketchpadonhis diminutive table.
"Onesecond,Grayer,"1 say, "Let mebuckleyourbelt?
"No,notthatone."ShesticksherheadoutfromGrayer's walk-in closet.
"That's theoneyouputout." I add, "Onthebed.Sorry."
"It doesn't go."
Kneeling down in front of him, I look him over. luepinstriped shirt, khaki pants, white socks, brown
belt. I don't seetheproblem, butI unbucklehim.
"Here,"shesays,handingme a greenandredstripedcanvasbelt.
I pointdownatthebeltbuckle. "See,GforGrayer."
"G?" he asks, looking down. "I need my card." I reach for the bus-pass holder on the dresser, which
containsthevestigesof Mr. X's businesscard.
"No,"shesays, emerging fromthecloset. "Nottoday. It's liketheinterviews. Remember theinterviews?
Nocard."
"I wantmycard!"
"You cankeepitinyourpocketlike asecretagent," I say, tuckingitoutofsight.
"I still can't findhis f-ingbowtie."
"Nanny, I need an elephant." I pick up a gray crayon and draw an amorphous blob with big ears and a
trunk,theextentofmyartistic expertise. Shestartsthrowingties outofthecloset.
"I wanttowearmytie,"hesays, referringtotheonethathangstothefloor.
"No. Not today." She goes storming out into the entrance hall where I can hear her voice echo off the
marble. "CONNIE!CONNIE.'"
"Yes, ma'am?" Grayeris quiet,I keepmycrayoninmotion.
"I havejustspenthalfanhour lookingforGrayer's bowtie. Doyouhappentoknowwhere itis?"
"No,ma'am."
"Is ittoomuchtoaskthatyoukeeptrackofGrayer's clothes?DoI havetobeontopofeverything?The
one thing I delegate to you? She sighs heavily and then there's a moment of silence. "Why are you
standingthere?Golookforit!"
"I'm sorry,I justdon't knowwhere itcouldbe, ma'am. I putitinhis roomwith theotherones."
"Well, it's not there.And this is the second time that a piece of Grayer's clothing has gone missing this
month. Now, if you're feeling that this is all too much responsibility for you, I'm sure we can rethink
yourrolehere."
"No,ma'am. I'll lookfor it. It's justthattheclothes,needtobepackedbythreeandit's two-thirty now. If
Mr. X needsthem?
"Are you questioning who you workfor?You workfor me.AndI am telling youto lookfor thetie.And
ifthis confusesyou,pleaseletme know. Because,asfarasI canrecall,I am theonewhopays you!" I stand up shakily and start going through Grayer's closet myself. He comes and stands beside me, leaninghis headagainstmyhip.Conniejoins usinGrayer's room,pulling thecloset doorfurtheropen.
"Connie, I'll lookhere,"I saysoftly. "You takethelaundryroom."
As she crosses back through the front hall Mrs. X continues. "We could call Mr. X and see which he
gives more of a shitabout,whether his clothes get packedor whetherhis sonhas therightfuckingtie to
weartohisnewschool!Maybehe'll talktoyou.Maybehe'll takeyourcall, Connie."
"I'm sorry,ma'am." Five minutesofthorough,breathless searchinguncovers nothing.
"Anything?" Mrs. X's faceappearswhere shehasliftedthedustruffle.
"No,sorry,"I sayfromunderGrayer's bed.
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"Goddammit! Grayer, come on, we have to go. Just put him in the one with the green
polka dots." I
slideout onmystomach.
"I wantmydaddy's tie!" Hetriestoreachforthepegwherehis father's tiehangs.
"No, G. You canwearitlater."I gentlypull his handaway,tryingtomotivate himtowardthedoor.
"I wantitnow!" Hestartstosob,redblotchesappearingonhis face.
"Shh, please, Grove?" 1 kiss his damp cheek and he stands still, tears making their way down into the
starchedcollar. I straightentheknotandgototakehiminmyarms,buthepushesme away.
"No!"Andherunsoutof theroom.
"Nanny?" Mrs. Xcalls,shrilly.
"Yes?" I walktothehall.
"We'll bebackatfourintime foriceskating.Connie?" SheshakesherheadasConnieemergesfrom the
laundryroom, asifsheis simplytoodisgustedanddisappointedtospeak. "I justdon't knowwhatto say. It seems tome we are having thesesortsof problems on a regularbasis nowandI needyou to do some seriousthinkingaboutyour commitment leveltothisjob?
Mrs. X's cellphoneemits a sharpring. "Hello?" she answers while motioning for me to help her on with her mink. "Oh, hi, Justine ... Yes, they'll be down by three ... Yes, you can tell him she's packed everything ..." She walks away from us into the vestibule. "Oh, Justine? Could you see that I get his room number at the Yale Club?... In case Grayer has an emergency and I need to get a hold of him . .. Well, why would I call you? She takes a deep breath. "Well, I'm glad you see that doesn't make any sense ... Frankly, I don't want your apology. What I want is my husband's phone number ... I refuse to discuss this with you!" She slams her cell
phoneclosedwith suchforcethatitdropstothemarble floor.
Both women kneel to grab the phone just as the elevator door opens, but Mrs. X gets there first. With a shakinghandshepicksit
I 99
up and drops it into her clutch. She puts her other hand to the floor to steady herself, her icy blue eyes even with Connie's brown ones. "We seem to be unable to communicate, Connie," she hisses through clenched teeth. "So let me be crystal clear. I want you to gather your things and get out of my house. I wantyouout ofmyhouse.That's whatI want."
Shestandswith a shakeofher minkandpushes a stunnedGrayerintotheelevator asthedoorcloses.
Conniepulls herselfup bythefoyer tableandwalkspast mebackintotheapartment.
I take a moment tocollect myself beforeslowlyshuttingthefrontdoor.
I walk through the kitchen and find Connie standing with her back to me in the maid's room, her broad shouldersquivering inthesmall space. "God,Connie.Areyouokay?" I ask quietlyinthedoorway.
She turns to me. er pain and outrage so rawly palpable on her face that I'm struck silent. She slumps downontheoldtweedfold-outcouchandundoesthetopbuttonofher whiteuniform.
"I've been here twelve years," she says, shaking her head. "I was here before her and I thought I'd be hereafter."
"Do you want something to drink?" I ask, stepping into the narrow gap between the couch and the ironingboard. "Some juicemaybe?I couldtrytogetintotheliquorcabinet."
"She wants me to leave? She wants me to leave?" I sit down on Mrs. X's steamer trunk. "I've wanted to leavesincethefirstdayshegothere," shesnorts,reachingfor a half-ironedT-shirt andwiping hereyes. "Let me tell you something. hen they went to Lyford whatever. didn't get paid. I never get paid when they go away. Not my fault they're on vacation. I'm not on vacation. I still have three kids and plenty of bills to pay. And this year. his year. he asked him to declare me! They never declare me! Where am I supposedtocome upwith thatkindof moneynow?I hadtoborrowmoneyfrom
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mymother to pay all thesetaxes."She sits back and pulls offher apron. "When Mrs. X and Grayer flew totheBahamaslastyearandI wasgoingtheretootoseemyfamily,shemademeflywith them. Grayer spilled juice all over hisself at takeoff and she didn't have a change for him and he's sitting there cold and wet and crying and she just pull on that sleep thing over her eyes and ignore him the whole flight. And I didn't getpaid forthat!Oh, was I mad. hat's whyI'm not a nanny.You ever hearaboutJackie?" I shakemyhead. "Jackie washisbabynurse,butshestayed tillGrayer wastwo."
"Whathappenedtoher?"
"Well, she got a boyfriend. That's what happened to her." I look at her quizzically. "For two years she just worked, she'd only been here maybe a few years and didn't have too many friends. So she practically lived here and she and Mrs. X got on okay. I think they got together about Mr. X traveling and Jackie dating no one special?you know, man troubles. But then Jackie met someone. e looked like Bob Marley. nd now she can't work Friday nights and she don't like to work the weekend if the Xesdon't beinConnecticut. SoMrs. Xstartsinwith howinconveniencedsheis. Butreally,shejealous. Jackie had that glow, you know. She had that look about her and Mrs. X couldn't stand it. So she fired her. NearlybrokeGrayer's heart.Afterthat. ewaslike a littledevil child."
"Wow." I take adeepbreath.
"Oh, you ain't heard the bad part. Jackie called me six months later. She couldn't get a new job because Mrs. X wouldn't give her a reference.You know, no reference, they think Jackie stole or something. So she got two years missing on her resume. And the agency didn't want to send her out no more." She stands up and wipes her hands slowly down her skirt. "That woman is pure evil. They have six nannies in four months before Caitlin. o one stayed. And one got fired for giving him a corn muffin in the park. Don't you never feed him if you want to keep your job, you hear?And Mr. X. eeps porn in his shoecloset,thenaaastykind."
I'm trying totakethis all in. "Connie,I'm sosorry."
"Don't you be sorry for me." She tosses the crumpled t-shirt onto the couch and marches with purpose intothekitchen. "You justwatch outforyourself."I followher.
She opens one of the empty Delft cookie jars on the counter and pulls out a handful of black lace, slammingit downonthetableinfrontofme.
PANTIES!
"AndI foundtheseunderthebed?
"Rightunderthebed?" I can't help asking.
She tilts her headdownat me. "Mm-hm. Nowhe's got theother one running all aroundhere, acting like she owns the place. It took me two days to get the stink of her perfume out of here before Mrs. X got back."
"Shouldsomebodytellher? Doyou thinksomebody shouldtellMrs. X aboutthis woman?" I ask, dizzy with reliefatfinallybeingabletoconsult acolleague.
"Now, you listen here.Ain't you beenhere for the last hour?It's not myproblem.And don't you make it your problem, either. It's none of our business. Now you better pack up Mr. X's things. gotta get out ofhere."Shereachesaroundandunties herapron,droppingitontothecounter.
"So,whatareyougonnado?"
"Oh, my sister, she works up the block, she always knows people who are lookin' for housekeepers and whatnot. I'll findsomething.It'll belessmoney,ifthat'spossible. But I'll findsomething. I always do."
She walks into the maid's room to collect her things, leaving me staring down at the black silk thong, screaminglikeprofanegraffitiagainstthepeachmarbletable.
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Nanny,
Todayyouhave aplaydatewithCarteraftertennis. Pleasebetherebythree. TheMiltonslive at10 East67thStreetandI thinkyou. lbestayingforsupper. I. havingdinneratBolo.
I still can. findGrayer. bowtie. Didyoutakeithome? Pleasecheck.
Thanks.
Grayer is still crying when we finally get a cab. While I'm not allowed to walk him down doormanless side streets, his after-school activities routinely maroon us in desolate, cabless neighborhoods where any minute I'll be forced to choose between Grayer or my life. I haul him into the taxi, throw the tennis racketinafter him,andpulltherestof theequipment inwith me.
"Sixty-seventh andMadison,please."I lookatGrove. "How's yourhead?Anybetter?"
"It's okay." He slows down to a whimper, but it sounds like a whimper with staying power. He was lookingthewrongwaywhentheproturnedontheballfeeder.
"How about golf, G? I think we should try golf. Smaller balls, less damage." He looks up at me with wet eyes. "Come here." He leans across the seat and puts his head in my lap. I run my fingers through his hair and play with his ears
just like my mom used to do. The motion of the car soothes him and beforeweeven reachMid-town he's asleep.Hemust bewiped.What adifferentlifewe'd all beliving if hewasonlyallowedtonap.
I pullbackmyraincoatsleeve tolookatmywatch.Whatwill anextrafifteenminutesmatter?
"Driver? Can you make a loop up to 110 and then back down theWest Side and across the Sixty-eighth Street transverse?"
"Sure, lady. Whateveryou say," I lookoutthewindowatthe
2O3
grayskyand pull mycoatcloser aroundme as round raindropshit the windshield,still waiting forApril showerstofeelliketheycouldleadtoMayflowers.
"Grover, wake up. We're here." He's a little groggy and wiping his eyes when I press the town house's doorbell, theracketslungover myshoulder.
"Hello?" anEnglishvoice saysfromtheintercom.
"Hi! It's Nanny and Grayer." There's no reply. I reach over and press the talk button again. "We have a playdatewith Carter."
"Really?"There's a pause. "Well,come on up, then."ThebuzzersoundsandI pushtheheavyglass door open, while Grayer stumbles aheadof me intothemarble entrancefoyer. Past thegrandstaircase, atthe back of house, is a solarium, whose long windows reveal a garden. Raindrops steadily fill the stone fountain.
"Hello?" a young voice asks. I look up from where I'm wrestling Grayer's coat zipper. A little boy Grayer's age with blond, curly hair is standing on the landing, his hand looped through the banister, leaning away on a diagonal. "Hi. I'm Carter." I've never seen this boy before and realize Grayer hasn't, either.
"I'm Grayer."
"Hello?" The same English voice calls down the stairs. "Just leave your gear anywhere and come on up."I throwourwet coatsontheflooranddrop ourgearbesideit.
"Go ahead, G." He runs up after Carter. I begin my ascent; on the first floor I pass a Venetian living roomatthefrontofthehouseand a Decodiningroomattheback.AsI reachthesecondfloor,featuring the Empire master bedroom and a man's study done in the African vein, lots of antelope heads and a zebra-skin rug, I'm audibly panting. I chug up to the third level, which has a large mural of Winnie-the!Poohpaintedonthelanding,andI'm guessingitisCarter's floor.
"Keepgoing!" I hearencouragementbeingshoutedfromabove.
"You're almost there,Nanny! Lazy!"
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"Thanks, G!" I call up. I finally drag myself, sweating, to the fourth floor, which has been opened up
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