Small-Town Nanny

by Lee Tobin McClain

Small beach shoes clacked along the walkway from the back deck, and he turned around just in time to catch Mindy in his arms. He lifted her and gave her a loud kiss on the cheek, making her giggle.

  And then she struggled down. “Daddy, Miss Lou Ann says I can play in the pool if it’s okay with you. Can I?”

  Lou Ann Miller, who’d worked for his family back in the day and had helped to raise Sam, Troy and Daisy, followed her young charge out into the driveway. “She’s very excited. It would be a nice way for her to cool off.” She winked at him. “Nice for you if she’d burn off some extra energy, too.”

  Sam hesitated. Lou Ann was an amazing woman, but she was in her upper seventies. “If she stays in the shallow end,” he decided. “And Mindy, you listen to Miss Lou Ann.”

  “Of course she will,” Lou Ann said. “Run and change into your suit, sweetie.” As soon as Mindy disappeared inside, Lou Ann put a hand on her hip and raised an eyebrow at Sam. “I was the county synchronized swimming champion eight years running,” she said. “And I still swim every morning. I can get Mindy out of any trouble she might get into.”

  “Of course!” Sam felt himself reddening and reminded himself not to stereotype.

  He just wanted to keep Mindy safe and get her home environment as close to what Marie had made as was humanly possible. Get things at home back to running like a well-organized company, one he could lead with confidence and authority.

  The moving truck chugged around the corner and up to the house, and Sam rubbed his hands together. Here was one step...he hoped. If Susan worked out.

  He gestured them toward the easiest unloading point and helped open the back of the truck as Susan pulled up in her old subcompact, its slightly-too-dark exhaust and more-than-slightly-too-loud engine announcing that the car was on its last legs. He’d have to do something about that.

  As the college boys he’d hired started moving her few possessions out, she approached. Her clothes were relaxed—a loose gauzy shirt, flip flops and cut-off shorts revealing long, slender, golden-bronzed legs—but her face looked pinched with stress. “Hey,” she said, following his glance back to her car. “Don’t worry, I’ll pull it behind the garage as soon as the truck’s out of the way.”

  “I didn’t say—”

  “You didn’t have to.” She grabbed a box off the truck and headed up the stairs.

  He helped the guys unload a heavy, overstuffed chair and then followed them up the stairs with an armload of boxes.

  There was Susan, staring around the apartment, hands on hips.

  “What’s wrong?” he asked. “Is it suitable? Too small? We can work something out—”

  “It’s fine,” she said, patting his arm. “It’s beautiful. I’m just trying to decide where to put things.”

  “Good.” There was something about Susan that seemed a little volatile, as if she might morph into a butterfly and disappear. “Well, you need to put the desk in that corner,” he said, gesturing the movers to the part of the living room that was alcoved off, “and the armchair over there.”

  “Wait. Put the desk under the window. I like to look out while I work.”

  The young guys looked at him, tacitly asking his permission.

  Susan raised her eyebrows, looking from the movers to Sam. There was another moment of silence.

  “Of course, of course! Whatever the lady wants.” But when they got the desk, a crooked and ill-finished thing, into the light under the window, he frowned. “I might have an extra desk you can use, if you like.”

  “I’m fine with that one.”

  He understood pride, but he hated to see a teacher with such a ratty desk. “Really?”

  “Yes.” She waited while the young movers went down to get another load, then spun on him. “Don’t you have something else to do, other than comment about my stuff?”

  “I’m sorry.” He was controlling and he knew it, but it was with the goal of making other people’s lives better. “I just thought...are you sure you wouldn’t rather have something less...lopsided? The money’s not a problem.”

  She walked to the desk and ran a hand over it, smiling when one finger encountered a dipped spot. “My brother made it for me at his vocational school,” she explained. “It was his graduation project, and he kept it a secret. When he gave it to me, it was about the best moment of my life.”

  “Oh.” Sam felt like a heel. “So he’s a woodworker?”

  She shook her head. “No, not really. He’s still finding his way, but the fact that he pushed past the frustration and made something so big, mostly by himself...and that he did it for me...it means a lot, that’s all.” She cleared her throat and got very busy flicking dust off an immaculate built-in shelf as the college boys came in with another load.

  Obviously her brother was important to her. And obviously, Sam needed to pay attention to something other than just the monetary value of things.

  He didn’t have any family furniture, heirloom or sentimental or otherwise. For one thing, his dad still had most of their old stuff out at the family estate. For another, Marie had liked everything new, and he’d enjoyed providing it for her.

  As the movers carried the last load into the bedroom, Susan looked up at him, then rose gracefully to her feet. “I was going to spend a little time getting settled. But is there something I can do for you and Mindy first?”

  “Do you need help unpacking?”

  One corner of her mouth quirked up, and he got the uncomfortable feeling she was laughing at him. “No, Sam,” she said, her voice almost...gentle. “I’ve moved probably five or six times since college. I’m pretty good at it.”

  Of course she had, and the fact that she looked so young—and had a vulnerable side—didn’t mean he had to take care of her. She was an employee with a job to do. “I’ll be in the house,” he said abruptly. “Come in as soon as you’re set up, and we’ll discuss your duties.”

  As he left, he saw one of the college boys give Susan a sympathetic glance.

  What was that all about? He just wanted to have things settled as soon as possible. Was that so wrong?

  Okay, maybe he was pushing her a little bit, but that was what you did with new employees: you let them know how things were going to be, what the rules were. This was, for all intents and purposes, an orientation, and he wanted to make sure to do things right.

  But he guessed he didn’t need to rearrange her furniture. And given her reaction to the desk suggestion, she probably wouldn’t welcome his getting his car dealer to find her a better car, either.

  No, Susan seemed independent. Which was great, but also worrisome. He wondered how well she would fit in with his plan for a traditional, family-oriented summer for Mindy. What changes would she want to make?

  He walked by the pool and saw with relief that Mindy was happily occupied with her inflatable shark in the shallow end.

  Lou Ann Miller sat at the table in the shade. He did a double take. Was that a magazine she was reading? He opened his mouth to remind her that Mindy needed close attention. When Marie had brought Mindy out to the pool, before she’d gotten too sick to do it, she’d been right there in the water with her.

  But the moment Mindy ventured away from the edge of the pool, LouAnn pushed herself to her feet and walked over to stand nearby.

  “See what I can do!” Mindy crowed as she swam a little, her stroke awkward. She had an adaptive flotation device for her arm, but she didn’t like to use it.

  “Try kicking more with your feet, honey,” LouAnn said. “If you get tired, you can flip over to your back.”

  “Show me how?”

  “Sure.” Lou Ann shrugged out of her terrycloth cover-up, tossed it back toward the table and walked down the steps into the water, barely touching the railing. She wore a violet tank suit and her short hair didn’t seem to require a swim c
ap.

  Glad he hadn’t interfered and satisfied with Lou Ann’s abilities as a caregiver and swim instructor, Sam strode toward the house. He hoped Susan wouldn’t take long to get settled and come down. The sooner they established her duties, the sooner things could go back to normal.

  * * *

  He’d just finished a sandwich when there was a tap on the back door.

  “You ready for me?” Susan asked, poking her head inside. “Am I supposed to knock or just come in? I really don’t know how to be a nanny.”

  “Just come in.” If he needed privacy, there was the whole upstairs. “I’m ready. Let me give you a quick tour so you know where things are.”

  “Great.” She was looking around the kitchen. “Is this where you spend most of your time?”

  He nodded. “It’s a mess. Sorry. My cleaning people come on Mondays.”

  “You call this a mess?” She laughed. “I can barely tell you have a kid.”

  “Mindy’s pretty neat. Me, I have to restrain my inner slob. Plus, Lou Ann Miller’s been helping me until I find...well, until I found you. She’s a whiz at cooking and cleaning.”

  “Why didn’t you just hire her?” Susan asked as he led her into the living room.

  “She doesn’t want a permanent job. Says she’s too old, though I don’t see much evidence of her slowing down. This is where we...where I...well, where we used to entertain a lot.” The room had been Marie’s pride and joy, but Sam and Mindy didn’t use it much, and he realized that, without a party full of people in it, the place looked like a museum.

  Susan didn’t comment on the living room nor the dining room with its polished cherry table and Queen Anne chairs. He swept her past the closed-off sunroom, of course. When they got to Mindy’s playroom, Susan perked up. “This is nice!”

  She walked over to inspect the play kitchen and peeked into the dollhouse. “What wonderful toys,” she said almost wistfully. She looked at the easel and smiled approvingly at the train set. “Good, you’re not being sexist. I see you got her some cars, too.”

  “Those are partly for my sake,” he admitted. “I go nuts after too many games with dolls.”

  “Me, too.” She walked over to perch on the window seat, crossing her arms as she surveyed the playroom. “It’s a big place for one little girl.”

  A familiar ache squeezed Sam’s chest. “We were going to fill it up with kids.” He stared out the window and down the green lawn. “But plans don’t always work out.”

  When he looked back at her, she was watching him with a thoughtful expression on her face. “That must be hard to deal with.”

  He acknowledged the sympathy with a nod. “We’re managing.”

  “Do you ever think of moving?”

  “No!” In truth, he had. He’d longed to move, but it wouldn’t be fair to Marie’s memory. She’d wanted him to continue on as they’d begun, to create the life they’d imagined together for Mindy. “We’re fine here,” he said firmly.

  She arched one delicate brow. “Well, okay then.” She stood up, looked around and gave a decisive nod. “I know a lot of kids, so we’ll work on filling up the playroom and pool with them this summer. This place is crying out for noise and fun.”

  “Vetted by me,” he warned. “I don’t want a lot of kids I don’t know coming over.”

  “You want to approve every playdate?”

  “For now, yes.”

  She pressed her lips together, obviously trying not to smile, but a dimple showed on her face. A very cute dimple.

  “Hey, look. I’m a control freak, especially where Mindy is concerned.”

  “No kidding.” She raised her eyebrows in mock surprise. “It’s okay, Sam. We’ll figure out a way to manage this. But Mindy does need friends around this summer. She needs to work on her social skills.”

  “There’s nothing wrong—”

  She cocked her head to one side and tucked her chin and looked at him.

  “Her social skills are okay.” He frowned at Susan’s pointed silence. “Aren’t they?”

  “It’s not a big problem,” Susan said. “But she’s very sensitive about her disability and her mother, or lack of one. I’ve broken up several playground brawls. The best way to work on it is to give her lots of free-play experience with other kids.” She squatted down beside the bookshelves that lined one side of the room. “And there are books that can help. But these—” She ran a delicate finger along the spines of the books. “These are books for toddlers, Sam. She can read better than this.”

  Her criticism stung, but he nodded. “Her mother was the big book-buyer. That’s why I’m glad you’re here, Susan. I can see that you have an expertise the other candidates didn’t have. I want to do right by Mindy.”

  “Weekly trips to the library. Fern can help us pick out some good books, including ones about social skills.”

  “Sure.” He led the way back through the kitchen. “Now, I don’t expect you to cook for us—”

  “That’s good,” she interrupted. “Remember, I’m a disaster in the kitchen.”

  “I’m sure you can figure out how to make breakfast and lunch. I’ll do dinner, or order it in. But I do want you to eat dinner with us most nights.”

  “What?” She froze, staring at him.

  “It’s better for Mindy,” he explained. “All kinds of studies show the importance of family dinners. I’d like to have you be a part of that.”

  She looked a little trapped. “I’m not your family, I’m a hired—”

  “Five days per week,” he bargained. “You can have a couple of nights off.”

  Through the open kitchen window, he could hear Lou Ann and Mindy laughing together in the backyard. He leaned back against the granite counter and watched an array of expressions cross Susan’s face.

  Was he being unfair, demanding too much of her? He’d looked over lists of nanny duties online, and while having a sitter eat with the family wasn’t common, he’d seen a few examples of it being done. He was paying her well, much better than the average.

  “You have to eat,” he reminded her. “It’s free food.”

  She chuckled, a throaty sound that made all his senses spring to life. “We’ll give it a try.”

  He pushed his advantage. “And Sunday dinner is the most important meal of all, so I’d appreciate your being there. I think we agreed that you’d work Sunday afternoons and take a weekday afternoon off, correct?”

  “You mean, like, tomorrow?”

  He nodded. Best to start out as you meant to go on. “Yes. Definitely tomorrow.”

  “We’ll give it a try,” she repeated doubtfully. “But I’m not...well. We’ll see.”

  Score one for him. But her resistance proved this wasn’t going to be as easy as he’d hoped.

  * * *

  The next day, Susan stood at the kitchen counter scooping deli salads into bowls. Even though she’d turned down Sam’s offer of an apron to protect her church clothes—which, hello, consisted of a faded denim skirt with a lime-green tee and sneakers, hardly designer duds that needed special care—she still felt uncomfortable and out of place. She was used to grabbing a bagel with friends or fixing herself a peanut butter sandwich after church. Fixing a family lunch in a big, fancy kitchen was way out of her comfort zone.

  Since she attended the same church as Sam and Mindy, it had made sense to all go together. Uncomfortable with the intimacy of that, she’d made a beeline for her singles group friends once they’d gotten there, but she hadn’t had a choice about a ride home, which had included a stop at the grocery store for supplies.

  It was all too, too domestic. And Sam had been entirely too appealing during the grocery story visit, brawny arms straining his golf shirt, thoughtfully discussing salad options with the deli clerk, whose name he remembered and whos
e children he asked about.

  And since Sunday dinner was, quote, the most important meal of the week, here she was helping to cook it, or at least dish it up. Though she didn’t see the point of setting the table and putting deli food into serving dishes when all Mindy wanted was to play in the pool.

  Through the window, she studied Sam and Mindy, side by side on the deck while Sam grilled chicken. He was talking seriously to her, explaining the knobs on the gas grill and putting out a restrictive arm when she came too close.

  Sam. What a character. He might be the head of an empire, able to boss around his employees and make each day go according to plan, but he wasn’t going to be able to control everything that happened in his own home. Not with a kid. Kids were never predictable.

  And he couldn’t control her, either. She had to maintain some sense of independence or the cage door would shut on her, just as it had almost done with her former fiancé. Encouraged by her father, they’d gotten engaged too quickly, before they knew each other well. Once Frank had found out what she was really like, he hadn’t wanted her. And she’d been guiltily, giddily happy to get free.

  She wasn’t the marrying kind. And this stint in a housewifely role was temporary, just long enough to help her family financially.

  From the front of the house, she heard a female voice. “Yoo-hoo! Surprise!”

  Susan spun toward the sound, accidentally flinging a spoonful of macaroni salad on the floor in the process. “In here,” she called. Then she grabbed a paper towel to clean up the dabs of macaroni scattered across the floor.

  “Who are you?” asked a voice above her.

  “It must be some of the hired help, Mama,” said a male voice.

  Susan paused in her wiping and looked up to see a yacht-club-looking, silver-haired couple. She gave the floor a last swipe, rinsed her hands and then turned to face them as she dried her hands on the dishtowel. “Hi, I’m Susan. Mindy’s summer nanny. Who are you?” She softened the question with a smile.

  “I didn’t know he was hiring someone,” the woman said, frowning. “He should have asked me. I know several nice young women who could have helped out.”