Nanny Needed

by Georgina Cross

  I think about Aunt Clara, and my memory flashes back to Homecoming, my senior year. We hadn’t gone dress shopping because we couldn’t afford it. I planned on borrowing my friend’s dress from the year before, but Aunt Clara surprised me, saying she’d saved up enough money to buy several yards of fabric she thought would work perfectly for a design I’d been sketching. Over the next two weeks, I made my own dress.

  When Aunt Clara saw me leaving the night of Homecoming, she’d touched the jade-green fabric and told me I was the most beautiful girl at school. She had never looked happier. Prouder.

  And now here’s Collette, with no need to buy me a dress at all, whipping out her credit card and charging six thousand dollars as if it’s nothing.

  * * *

  —

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  Stephen thrusts the apartment door open as soon we arrive on the twelfth floor. His face is red, his eyes wild, bright crimson streaks on his neck.

  “What in the hell, Collette?” he seethes, yanking her by the arm.

  She whimpers as his fingers press tight against her skin until white splotches appear. “I went out,” she tells him.

  He hauls her to one side and channels his anger at me next. “I see you’re not sick,” he says, his words cutting and sarcastic. “But somehow you managed to meet up with Collette.”

  I look to her for an explanation, the story we’ll give him. But when it’s clear there isn’t one coming, I say, “She came looking for me.”

  Stephen whirls on Collette. “You can’t go out. Not without telling us first. Remember what happened last time?”

  Collette shrinks away.

  He swings his attention back to me and takes one look at what’s in my hands, the heavy garment bag I carried in from the car. “What’s that?”

  “A gift,” Collette tells him. “I didn’t want her to leave us, not like the last nanny.” She gives Stephen a begging look. “We can’t go back to square one, not again.” She tugs his arm, then turns to me. “This one is so kind, so easy to talk to.” Her eyes grow teary. “I don’t want to lose her.” She cries for me. “Sarah, please say you’ll stay. Please promise.”

  “Well, she has to stay,” Stephen informs her. “The contract required her to commit to at least three months.” He shoots me a look. “She won’t want to give up her rent money.”

  I squirm in my shoes, even more wary of the man I once thought was so caring and kind.

  Pauline rushes toward us, her arms extended as if she can’t reach Collette fast enough. She wraps the woman in an embrace before fawning all over her. “Oh, Collette, don’t do that to us again. You gave us such a fright.” She’s patting Collette now, touching and reviewing every inch of her body as if she might be hurt. As if she’d been to a war zone and not another neighborhood of New York.

  She sets her eyes on me next. “What were you thinking? Keeping her out like that?”

  “It wasn’t her,” Collette says. “I went on my own and Sarah took care of me.”

  But Pauline flaps her arms about like a concerned mother hen, murmuring in Collette’s ear and whispering to her that everything is going to be fine. No wonder the woman feels like an invalid at home—they treat her like one.

  Pauline whisks Collette away as if she were a wounded animal, talking about running a bath before returning her safely to her bed. They leave me stuck with Stephen.

  “Follow me,” he says, and I do so, reluctantly, draping the garment bag over my shoulder.

  We return to the family room, where the lush blue rugs blanket the floor and he tells me to sit. It takes him a few seconds to gather his thoughts. He’s looking not at me but down, the red of his face having faded and his cheeks returned to a normal color.

  “How did she find you?” he asks.

  I set the garment bag across my lap. “Somehow she figured out I was at the restaurant. I have no idea how she knew.”

  “Did she try going to your apartment first?”

  “I don’t think so. I was at work and she showed up wanting to order lunch.” I look at him quizzically. “How would she know where I work?”

  “Pauline said you told her about Hearth. She must have mentioned it to Collette. She must have assumed you were there.” He pauses. “How did she get to you?”

  “The driver.”

  He makes a face. “Not our driver. He knows better than that.”

  “Well someone drove her there because the same man drove us to some bar and then out shopping.”

  A panicked look crosses his face. “Did she drink?”

  I shake my head.

  He releases his breath, but it’s not enough to calm him. “She must have called for one of those driver services. Henry would have never let her leave this place. He’s under strict orders.” He thinks some more before asking, “How was she?”

  I hesitate. How much should I tell him—that she was fine until a mood swing came from out of nowhere and she freaked in front of the entire restaurant, managing to get both Jonathan and me fired? That I’m not sure who all was there, I don’t think anyone knew her, but I’m not positive none of the customers took her picture or recorded a video of her outburst?

  I decide not to tell Stephen any of this. He’s got enough to consider and has spent the last three to four hours worrying himself sick. The less he knows, the better.

  “She was okay. She ate, we talked. She wanted to shop.” I point to the dress. “I think she had an okay time.”

  “Did she talk about Patty?”

  “Of course.”

  “Did she act like Patty was there?”

  “No. She said Pauline stayed home with her while she was out with me.” I leave out the part where she’d shoved his dead sister’s hair into my hands. “She was fine, really.”

  Stephen holds my stare. He wants to believe me, he desperately needs to believe me. The alternative—public outburst, pictures, neighbors talking, another breakdown—would be too much to bear.

  He steals a glance at his watch. “My father will be coming home soon and he already knows what happened.” He frowns. “It could get ugly. You should probably go before he gets here.”

  But it’s too late. From down the corridor comes the sound of a door opening, then slamming. Keys thrown onto a side table. Heavy footsteps I assume belong to a man march steadily down the hall, shoes pounding against marble until at the far end the sound comes to a stop.

  Another door opens, then slams with a boom.

  The cries of a woman—Collette. Shrieks from Pauline as she rallies to her employer’s defense.

  A loud baritone voice. A deluge of words, anger and outrage and something about his wife disobeying him. Something falling to the floor.

  That is how I first come to know Alex Bird.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  It’s just after 9:00 a.m. and I’m preparing to leave for West Seventy-eighth Street. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?” Jonathan asks, his brows pinched.

  “I’ll be fine,” I tell him, zipping the sides of my ankle boots and trying my best to act nonchalant. That’s all I seem to be doing in front of everyone these days. Making them think I’m calm. Lying.

  “That woman,” Jonathan says. “The lady you’re working for. She seems…”

  “High-strung?”

  “You could say that.”

  “Overdramatic?”

  “Crazy.” He utters the word firmly.

  “You’re the one who told me to go after her, remember? You know we need the money.”

  “I know, and we do.” He drops his back against the wall. “But I panicked, both of us kicked out on the street like that.”

  I don’t answer, and instead rub my sweaty palms against my pants. I can still hear Collette crying.

  “Sarah, she doesn’t see
m well. She flipped out in front of everyone.”

  “She was overwhelmed.”

  “That’s a lot more than overwhelmed. It was a complete meltdown.” He slows his words. “I’m not so sure you should be working for her.”

  I brush my hair as a distraction, pulling the bristles through to the ends and trying my best to keep my emotions in check. Tucking my bangs behind my ear, I glance at the time: only a few minutes left before I need to get going.

  But Jonathan doesn’t let up. “Does she always act that way?”

  “No,” I lie. Sadly, she can get much worse. “She was worried about me not coming back to nanny. She didn’t like me waiting tables at Hearth.”

  “Well she took care of that problem, didn’t she? And my job too.” He folds his arms tight. “What am I going to do?”

  I pause as a wave of guilt rolls over me. I’ve been so wrapped up in myself I haven’t truly considered what this is doing to him too. We spent a couple of hours looking at job postings, other restaurant gigs, but there’ve been no callbacks yet. I’m hoping something comes through soon.

  I move toward him for a hug. “I’m so sorry about that. I really am. I had no idea she’d do that.”

  But he rolls his head to one side to avoid my embrace and my arms fall short, dropping at my hips.

  “Jonathan, I’m sorry,” I say again, but he doesn’t meet my eyes. “Any leads from Carl?” I ask.

  Our friend Carl has worked for years in various restaurants around the city, including his most recent stint at an Italian wine bar in SoHo. I’m hoping he’ll be able to hook Jonathan up.

  “He’s putting in a good word for me,” he says, and finally meets my look. “What about you? Should we submit your name also?”

  I grab my purse. “No, I’ll be fine with the Birds. Remember the raise?”

  “You mean the bribe?”

  “Eighteen hundred a week, Jonathan…”

  He knocks his back against the wall. “I just don’t like it, the more I think about it. This woman. The rest of that family. I don’t have a good feeling about them.”

  He turns away and the tightness spreads across my chest. I hate lying to him. He’s looking out the window, his back facing me, and for the first time in our relationship, he’s not angling for a goodbye kiss. He’s letting me go without so much as a hug. No double squeeze of the hands to let me know he’ll be thinking of me.

  And with that, I leave the apartment and tread heavily down the steps, my heart sagging, guilt twisting in my gut.

  I’m barely through my first week of this job and it’s already causing our first argument.

  * * *

  —

  Pauline and Freddie are in the kitchen when I arrive. They tell me Collette is sleeping in so I have time to relax, although I’m not sure relaxing is anything anyone in this apartment can do just yet.

  The mood is somber, the air thick with what took place yesterday, the fight no one seems willing to acknowledge. Before Stephen had hastily shown me to the door, I’d heard glass breaking.

  What happened after I left?

  Poor Collette, punished for going out into the real world. Trapped in here, in her prison.

  No wonder she’s crazy.

  I watch Pauline and Freddie for a while. No chatting over coffee today. Pauline pops the elastic band at her wrist as I slide in next to her stool. Her mouth is pulled tight.

  It’s not my fault, I want to tell them. I didn’t mean for this to happen. She’s the one who came looking for me, remember?

  Although I’m sure they think there’s more I could have done to stop it. I could have said no to that rooftop bar and insisted the driver return us swiftly to West Seventy-eighth Street.

  Remember what happened last time? Stephen had said.

  I can’t stand the silence. I have so many questions for the rest of the staff. For starters, why didn’t they warn me?

  I try a different approach with Pauline.

  “I’m sorry,” I say. “I had no idea she would come find me.” Her shoulders tighten.

  She keeps her head down. As for Freddie, he’s still acting as if I’m not there and pulls a pork loin from the freezer, swinging the door shut.

  “Pauline, you know everything,” I tell her. “You’ve been here the longest but I’m still learning.” She faces me finally, her eyes blinking, registering her agreement. “I’m looking to you to help me do the best I can for Collette and for everyone else.” I swallow my pride. “Make sure what happened yesterday doesn’t happen again.”

  Pauline looks me over before crossing her arms.

  I decide to lay it on thick.

  “It’s a beautiful home,” I say. “You must work very hard to keep it this way.” No response so I add, “The kitchen is lovely too. Everything so spic-and-span. You must be at it constantly.”

  Another cool gaze from Pauline before she eventually cracks a smile. “It takes a lot of work. A place this big requires continuous care.”

  “I can tell.”

  I glance again around the kitchen, and it is indeed spotless, just like every room.

  “What was Collette like?” I ask, and her chin jerks up. “Before Patty died? Did she used to be okay?”

  “She was more than okay,” Pauline answers. But then she pauses, as if reconsidering her tone. The redness in her cheeks begins to fade. “She was—still is—one of the most beautiful people I’ve ever known. She’s lovely.”

  I nod, remembering the pure joy in Collette’s face when she bought me that gown. The dazzle in her eyes as she picked out dresses for Patty too. She clearly thrives on being able to do nice things for others. “She is lovely. I bet she was a great mother too.”

  “Absolutely,” Pauline says, and I feel the knot in my stomach releasing, relieved to hear her finally talking. “She was completely dedicated to that child. You would have never known a more devoted mother. Patty was all that mattered to her.”

  She takes another long look at my face. “Look,” she says. “What happened yesterday—Collette is going to try to leave again.”

  “I know.”

  “She’ll promise you things, bribe you, manipulate you. She’ll find a way to make it happen.”

  “But what if I’m with her every step?” I offer. “I can make sure she—”

  “What?” One of her eyebrows raises. “Behaves?”

  “Yes,” I say, thinking it over. “Yes, that’s exactly right.”

  “How did that work out yesterday?”

  I take her point and change the subject. “So you were here when Patty was born, right?”

  She nods. “I was only twenty-eight when I started working for the Birds.” She reaches to fill her mug of coffee, and in a moment of solidarity pours one for me too. “In the beginning, they were all wonderful. So much fun and full of energy. Collette was only a few years younger than me but a real beauty.” She touches her short, drab hair. “Quite the hostess too. Lots of evening parties and gatherings. But that all stopped when she had Patty. Caring for a baby caused her to slow down and settle into family life and she stopped partying so much. Motherhood suited her. She was an adoring wife to Alex and developed a close bond with Stephen. An even closer bond with her own child, of course.” She smiles, the memories stirring her emotions. “I’ve never seen her so happy as she was back then.”

  She looks away. “Stephen didn’t always have the best relationship with his father.” She hesitates at first, wondering how much to share with me. She blinks steadily before proceeding. “Alex can be somewhat of a workaholic, you see. Very formal, not the friendliest of men when you first meet him. But I suppose that’s how he’s gotten as far as he has with his career.

  “His first wife left him after only a few years and left Stephen behind—he was only a kid. Alex didn’t have the time to care f
or him, but truth be told, he didn’t make the time. He didn’t know how to be a dad or pay attention to his son, and Stephen languished…” She shakes her head. “But that all changed when Alex married Collette. She brought sunshine back into this house and that baby girl was an extra bonus. Soon Alex was spending more time with the family, including his son. He was cutting down on his travel and choosing to be home, which was a real first. It was as if, with Patty’s birth, he also remembered he had a nine-year-old son. And Stephen began to flourish under the attention. It was wonderful to see.”

  Her eyes cloud over and she wraps her hands tight around her mug.

  “But then Patty got sick. She had always been small and a little bit frail, a premature baby. But at age three, her immune system took a real dive and she had to spend her last few months in bed. Collette was racked with fear and all the anxiety that comes with caring for a sick child.” Pauline draws a heavy sigh. “She returned to drinking, and it incensed Alex, as you can imagine. Her drinking all the time prevented her from taking care of Patty properly, and it only got worse when the doctors said there was nothing more they could do.” Pauline wipes the tears on her cheeks. “That beautiful baby girl. It was awful. The doctor said no parent should ever see their child that way. They refused to let anyone into the room, and that made Collette go crazy.” She hiccups a sob. “I never got to say goodbye either.”

  “Holy shit,” I breathe, and Pauline’s eyes flinch, making me cover my mouth. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know Stephen told you some of this already, but not everything. I apologize for the extra details.”

  “No, it’s okay,” I assure her. “I want to know everything.”

  She takes a deep breath. “I’m sure Stephen told you the funeral was closed casket. We weren’t allowed to see Patty one last time, and I think that’s what really put Collette over the edge. She became convinced that everyone was lying, especially the doctor, and that Patty wasn’t dead. She accused us of hiding her. And then there was that horrible incident when one of the doctors accused Collette of harming her own daughter, implying she caused the girl to die.”