by Lila Younger
Copyright
© 2019 Lila Younger
All Rights Reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express permission of the publisher except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.
This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locations is purely coincidental. The characters are all productions of the author’s imagination.
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Penny
In my mind, Saturdays are shopping days. It all started back in grade 7, when my mom finally allowed me to take the bus to our local shopping mall. We don’t exactly have that many exciting things to do here in Richmond, so I was thrilled. And ever since, my best friends Sarah and Jen and I have made it a point to head to the mall every Saturday morning. Of course, it’s more like Saturday afternoon by the time we wake up and get ready these days, but still.
This Saturday I had a bigger plan in mind than just buying a new denim skirt or floral dress. I work as a hostess, but the hours are terrible, and there’s no way to advance since it’s a family restaurant. Literally every other position is taken up by some family member. I think they only hired me on because they ran out of relatives. So I’m going to try and apply at a few places in the mall. I’m nineteen and still living at home, not going to college, not doing anything really. When I first told my parents I wanted a gap year, they told me that I would be allowed on the condition that I was either a) saving up for college or b) trying to find a proper job. And honestly… I’ve done neither of those things. I mean, it’s not for lack of trying, I swear. It’s just I go to the mall and Sarah will mention that I look great in a pair of jeans, or Jen will spy the perfect pair of boots, and suddenly all my good intentions go out the window. At least I’m dressed for whatever I’ll do in life, even if I don’t exactly know what that is.
I survey my outfit critically. It’s the blah season when winter’s almost gone but spring hasn’t decided to come, and while everyone else’s wardrobe reflects that, I decided to fully embrace the future. I’ve got a beautiful pale pink sweater on with bell sleeves, paired with white skinny jeans and knee high brown leather boots. No dark, moody colors for me today. I pull my hair up into a messy bun, and swipe on some mascara and blush, and out the door I go. I don’t like to throw on lots of makeup, even though I’m definitely a girly girl. I went through a horrid breakout phase in grade 10, and I had to stop all makeup. That’s when I discovered it was the makeup making my face break out in the first place. I miss those days of putting on tons of makeup and looking ultra-glamorous, but I definitely don’t miss the acne!
Sneaking one last glance at the mirror to make sure I’m looking good, I grab my purse and head out of the bedroom. As I pass by my younger brother’s room, I think wistfully how nice it would be if I had a sister instead. Then there would be twice the closet space and clothes to share between us! Oh well.
The kitchen smells deliciously of bacon and eggs as I walk in. My dad’s at the stove, spatula in hand as he pushes food around in the skillet. In my family, dad is the cook. My grandma is Italian, and she passed on all the family recipes and a love for cooking. And he’s not shy with the butter either. That probably explains the twenty extra pounds I’m carrying around the hips, but the stuff he makes is so, so good. He sometimes talks about opening a restaurant when he’s retired, and I’d be his number one customer. He dishes up some bacon and an egg onto a plate, then slides it in front of my mom.
“Here you go honey,” he says, dropping a kiss on my mom’s head.
“Thank you,” she says, looking up from her iPad where she reads the New York Times. “You’re the best.”
I walk toward the coffee pot and pour myself a cup of joe. Reaching for the sugar, I dump a few tablespoons in. I hate the taste of coffee, but I love the smell and the pick me up.
“What’s your plan today Penny?” mom asks me.
“It’s Saturday, so the mall with Jen and Sarah,” I say as I take a sip of coffee.
She shakes her head. My mom’s hair is auburn, like mine, though she keeps hers cut short in a no nonsense cut and I like mine long. She’s a lawyer, and she says that the haircut helps her be taken seriously in court.
“You need to find a job,” she says. This is what she says every. Single. Week. “Or maybe, you could look at some of those college brochures I got you yesterday?”
My heart sinks. I hate this talk. Just because she knew what she wanted to be when she was five years old doesn’t mean everyone else does. My mom did it all. She grew up the fifth kid in a blue collar family, was the first to go to college, somehow got good enough grades to get a scholarship to Stanford, then married her first boyfriend and together they founded their own boutique law firm. She’s the American success story.
“I’ll look at them when I get home,” I say. “I’m going to drop off some resumes in the stores.”
“You want to work in a store?” The disapproval drips off every word.
“Well I love clothes, and you’re always saying I should try to find a job that I’ll be passionate about.” Clearly that didn’t include retail in her mind, but that’s what’s in mine.
Besides, I don’t really have a passion. Well, that’s not true. I just don’t have one I can think of. I’m not aggressive enough to be a lawyer, as my mom has told me before, and I faint at the sight of blood. I hate math, so accounting is out, and sitting down all day at a desk makes me want to scream. I like things to be changing and moving, which was why working at the restaurant suited me. But I can’t be a hostess forever. So why not try to work in the fashion world when I love clothes so much?
“I think you could be very well suited to it,” my dad says encouragingly as he hands me my plate of breakfast. “You’ve always got a good eye for color and what looks good on someone. Maybe you could become one of those personal shoppers.”
I brighten up. Trust my dad to come to my rescue. I won’t say I’m his favorite, because he’d never say that, but he does always defend me in front of mom.
“If it’s a job you’re looking for, I’ve got something for you,” my mom says, changing the subject.
She does this whenever dad speaks up for me, but I know it’s not over yet. She’ll just wait until later, when dad’s at golf or something.
“A job?” I ask warily, setting the plate and cup of coffee down across from her.
“Yes, it’s a temporary nanny position,” my mom says.
I sit up a little more. I babysat back in high school and I always enjoyed it. The only reason I stopped was because more than hostessing or retail, babysitting was the kind of thing one did when they were in high school. I know some people are awkward around kids, but I’ve never had that trouble. And unlike most adults, kids are really honest and straightforward. There’s no scheming and manipulating and saying one thing but meaning another with kids. At least, not for anything more serious than T.V. after dinner when really they should be doing homework.
“I thought you want me to find a serious job,” I say suspiciously.
“I do,” she replies, “but this comes from a friend of a friend. They’re quite desperate, and the pay is fantastic. He’s willing to pay $40 per hour if you could start Monday.”
My eyes go wide. Forty an hour? My mind spins, calculating just how much that would make. I’d easily be able to
save up for whatever I wanted, including maybe a pair of Louboutin pumps, my Holy Grail. Those red soled shoes are so distinctive, yet classy. And of course, Sarah and Jen would be so jealous!
“…if he likes you you’d probably be able to afford college in time for fall semester. It’s quite perfect,” my mom sums up. “Don’t you think?”
“Oh absolutely,” I tell her. “Do you know what the kids are like?”
She lifts up her phone and scrolls for a few seconds.
“Hm, there’s a daughter, eleven, and a younger one who’s… six.”
I make a rapid calculation as I cut up some bacon.
“So kindergarten and grade 5. That’s not so bad.”
“They’d be in school most of the time,” dad says. “Do they really need a nanny?”
“Yes. You’ll really only be needed in the afternoon, to drive them to lessons and such, although the father works some late nights a couple times a week.”
I do a mental cheer at the thought of still being able to sleep in. Nothing to do with Netflix binges of course…
“I’ll do it.”
“Excellent. I’ll forward your details over.”
I get up from the table, dropping off the dishes into the dishwasher. It’s looking full, so I throw in a pod and press the button to run it. This means I’ll definitely have to quit at the restaurant, I think. I’ll miss everyone, but I do so love kids that I don’t feel all that terrible. I’m sure that they’ll be able to replace me easily over there. And like mom says, if they really like me, then maybe I’ll be able to stay on. It pays way more than any other job I can get, that’s for sure, so as long as I say I’m saving up for college, mom might finally get off my back for a while.
“See you later,” I tell the two of them.
What a perfect solution, I think, not realizing just how right I was.
Kane
“Looks good Louis,” I say, tidying up the stack of papers my tour director has given me. “I’m amazed at how quickly you’ve been able to find guides for each of these.”
“Well, we will see,” he says cautiously. “There’s a lot that can be hidden on an interview.”
In all our years of business together, the man has never spoken hopefully about anything. It’s a good thing to have in a partner, someone who can see the downsides and prepare accordingly. Even though I’m the founder of Adrenaline Adventures, I took Louis on as a minor partner once I realized just how good he was with the organizational aspects of the business. It takes a detailed mind to orchestrate and keep an eye on our offering of fifteen individual tours all over the North American continent. And soon we will be going international. It’s been a move I’ve thought about now for years, and in just two months, we will launch our first offerings for Europe and SE Asia, just in time for families and college students booking summer trips.
“True enough, but we will have a dry run of sorts before the first trip to make sure everything is ironed out. And you’ll be going on these trips yourself, correct?”
“That’s right,” he says.
“Then I’m confident we will be fine,” I reply. “Anything else that you want to go over before I head out?”
“We have the meeting on Monday with the web developers for our new website.”
“About that,” I say, lifting a finger. “I’ve managed to secure a new nanny. She’s supposedly brilliant with children, and she’s willing to start immediately.”
Louis looks taken aback.
“Who?”
“A girl called Penny. Got her number from Tim down in accounting. She’s out of high school, and she’s got an up to date first aid certification, and she’s babysat for Tim’s kid’s a few times last year, so it’s not like she’s a complete unknown. I’ll still do an interview, and a dry run to see if she’s good with the girls, but I think it should work.”
I brush off the doubtful look he gives me.
“I’m sure it will be fine. If not, she will do for the week or so it takes for the agency to send me a replacement.”
Amelia and Amanda’s nanny’s mother recently had a heart attack and she had to fly home immediately to take care of her. Unfortunately, as the only child, there was nobody else who could step in, and so she had to quit. It’s too bad really. I finally had someone who knew how things were done, and as far as I could tell the children had accepted her. It would be hard for them to make another change. I loathed it actually, seeing as how just a few months ago, they were with their mother. My ex-wife may not have taken her marital vows seriously, but she was a decent parent. I’m guilty of having laid more of the childcare on her than I should have. Building up Adrenaline Adventures from scratch has cost me every spare moment these past few years. In fact, until just recently, I myself had to take on tour guide responsibilities we were growing so fast.
I stand up from my desk, glancing down at my watch. It read three o’ clock. I better get going. They’re with my mom right now. She’s in a wheelchair, so I prefer not to have to leave them with her for too long, especially when her day nurse has left. If anything were to happen, my mother wouldn’t be able to drive them to the hospital. In fact, I should probably hurry.
“Monday then,” I confirm with Louis as he turns to leave my office.
I pull my coat from the back of my chair and slip it on. The ultra-light parka has seen me through more hikes and camping trips than I could count. In fact, it features in almost every photo I’ve taken and put up in this office. The one I always focus on is the picture from our first successful trip. I had been working as a tour guide myself, a young father who wasn’t ready to give up the life of adventure when I started the business. There were more than a few mistakes made during that trip, though thankfully none that the campers were aware of. Back then I did everything, from the bookings to the organizing to the tour guide aspect itself. It was a trip to Lake Tahoe, nothing spectacular. I’ve been up to the area myself when I was a kid almost every other summer, and I knew the place like the back of my hand. We lost money that trip, but I was hooked by how happy and excited my campers were that I knew I was onto something.
And we were. We had come just on the cusp of something big, when people wanted trips that were authentic, but didn’t have to handle all the stress of the day to day. That took them off the beaten track without worrying that they would get lost forever. That explained the history of their destinations and showed them well, adventure and adrenaline too. In just four years we’ve jumped from one tour to fifteen, and now we were about to double it again to 33 with the inclusion of European biking and hiking tours, and the beaches of SE Asia.
If only I could go lead one of these tours again… I let myself think for a moment before I slam the door on the rest of the thought. I have two daughters living with me now, and I can’t just up and abandon them now. I did that often enough when they were growing up, and after the divorce, it was easy to let them slip further away with Adrenaline Adventures as my excuse. I’m paying for that now though, and there’s no way I would do it again. The girls have enough upheaval as it is. I have six months to try and salvage our relationship, and damnit if I’m going to let anything get in the way this time. My daughters deserve to know that they come first in their father’s eyes now.
Fishing my keys out of my pocket, I stride out of our office. We have two customer service representatives working to help take in reservations, answer questions online, and provide assistance should our tour guides need it. Since it’s still early, we only have a few short spring break tours. Soon that will change.
The office is only a short drive away from my mother’s apartment. She moved to Richmond a year ago when her ALS progressed to the point that she needed more intensive care. I felt better knowing that she was closer, and helped her move closer. She lives only five minutes away, and I normally wouldn’t ask her to take the girls, but at eleven Amelia should know better than to make trouble for grandma. She and I butt heads all the time at the moment, but she’s a good
girl at heart, I know that, and she would never intentionally do anything to trouble her grandmother.
I pull up in front of my mother’s unit. The apartment building is made up of three stories, and she lives on the first level. I’d prefer for her to live with me, but the steep hill and distance from the bus stop makes this location better for her. My mother may not be as mobile, but she’s social, and within a month of moving, she found herself a book club and a church to go to. I get my determination from her.
Clicking the locks shut on my BMW, I walk over to the door and knock. Immediately it opens and Amanda flings herself into my arms. She’s got delicate features and long, blonde hair. ‘Rapunzel hair’ as she proudly calls it.
“Daddy!” she cries happily. “We ate chocolate pancakes for lunch!”
I hug my youngest daughter and smile over her shoulder at grandma.
“I hope there were some veggies and fruits to counteract all that sugar?”
“Uh huh,” she says, nodding solemnly. “Grandma made us strawberry milkshakes. Strawberry’s a fruit.”
“I suppose it is,” I say, amused.
“Were you guys good for grandma?”
“The best. We didn’t make any trouble.”
I search the living room and find Amelia on the couch, her eyes fixed on the T.V. I’m not surprised in the least that she hasn’t come up to say hello. The truth is, she’s happier with her mother, and she couldn’t understand why she couldn’t go along for my ex-wife’s worldwide book tour. She’s always been a mildly successful young adult author, but ever since her books were made into movies, she’s shot into stardom, something that she’s always wanted. She even managed to finagle her way into one of the roles in the latest movie. Unfortunately, that’s meant that she’s had less and less time for our daughters. Having been abandoned it seems by first her dad, and now her mother, Amelia has justifiably been angry for the past few months. I don’t blame her for it, not in the least. If anything, I feel guilty every time I see her.
