Small-Town Nanny

by Lee Tobin McClain

  “Yes, sir, I’m aware of that.” He knew the clock was ticking. And every minute he spent noticing the appeal of an unconventional schoolteacher with a knack for causing disasters, even if they did usually turn out just fine, was a minute he wasn’t finding the proper sort of mother for his daughter.

  Was a minute he spent not fulfilling his promise to Marie.

  * * *

  The next Friday, July Fourth, Susan helped Mindy dress in her new red, white and blue shorts and shirt to go to the country club picnic. The day had dawned bright and hot, perfect weather for a picnic.

  She was not looking forward to this.

  She didn’t need to spend the time with Sam, who’d been surprisingly kind about her disastrous efforts to cook dinner for his job candidate’s family. He hadn’t had a lot to say over the past few days, but she sensed that his attitude toward her had softened.

  Which made him even more appealing. But she had to guard her heart. She didn’t need to fall for a guy who wanted something altogether different in a woman. She wasn’t going to put herself through that again.

  “I’m bored,” Mindy announced.

  There was still an hour until it was time to leave, so Susan took her charge downstairs and looked around for something to occupy her. They’d spent enough time in the playroom, and the formal living room had too many breakables to be a good play area.

  “Let’s check our seedlings,” she suggested, and they went to the kitchen window. To Mindy’s delight, tiny, bent plants were appearing in the soil they’d put in an egg carton.

  “They’re not very green,” Mindy said, poking at one with her finger.

  “They need more light. Let’s find another window to put them in.”

  They each took an egg carton and wandered around the mansion’s downstairs, looking for the perfect spot. It occurred to Susan that she’d never been inside the sunroom. Even though she’d seen it from outside, the blinds had always been drawn. “Come on, Mindy,” she said. “Let’s try in here.”

  Mindy emerged from the formal dining room, saw Susan’s hand on the doorknob of the sunroom. “No!” she shrieked, dropping her egg carton. “Don’t go in there!”

  Susan spun back toward the little girl, less concerned with the dirt and seedlings now soiling the cream-colored carpet than about Mindy’s frantic expression. “Hey,” she said, putting down her egg carton and kneeling in front of Mindy. “What’s wrong?”

  “Don’t go in there, don’t go in there,” the child said anxiously, her eyes round.

  “Okay, I won’t,” Susan promised. “But why?”

  Mindy’s face reddened and her eyes filled with tears. “I don’t like that room.”

  “Okay, okay. Shh.” She pulled Mindy into her arms and hugged her until some of the tension left her body. “Come on, we’d better save our plants.”

  Mindy looked down, only now realizing that she’d dropped her egg-carton planter. “Oh, no, they’re gonna be broken.”

  “I think we can save them,” Susan said. “And I have a good idea about how. Come on, you can help.”

  Forty-five minutes later, the little plants were replanted in some old cartoon character mugs Susan had discovered in the back of a cupboard. The mess was cleaned up, though Susan was going to have to tell the cleaning service to give that area of the rug a little extra attention. And Mindy was calm again, paging quietly through a library book about plants.

  As for Susan, she had to get ready. In a weak moment, she’d agreed to go to the club herself, at Daisy and Sam’s insistence, so she put on her own faded “Proud to be an American” T-shirt to pair with her standard denim capris and sandals. She pulled her hair up into a ponytail and added a little mascara and blush, and at Mindy’s insistence, tied a red, white and blue ribbon into her hair.

  But as Sam backed the car out of the driveway, Susan couldn’t help looking toward the sunroom that was visible from the side of the house.

  Why was the door always closed? Why was Mindy afraid of the sunroom?

  When they reached the country club, Mindy tugged Susan along, chattering a mile a minute, while Sam gathered blankets and lawn chairs for the fireworks later. “C’mon, Miss Susan! We all sit at one big long table. The grown-ups on one end and the kids on the other.”

  Susan decided instantly on her strategy. “Can I sit with the kids?”

  Mindy slowed down a minute to consider. “I guess you could,” she said doubtfully. “Xavier likes you, and he’s the biggest cousin, so he’s kind of the boss.”

  Susan smiled at the thought of a soon-to-be-second-grader running the show. She adored Xavier, had been his first-grade teacher last year, had helped him catch up and cheered him on in his struggle with leukemia, a struggle he’d now won.

  “And there’s gonna be Mercedes!”

  “I know! She’s great.” Susan was so happy for Fern and Carlo, Mercedes’s foster mother and biological father, who’d fallen in love during a snowstorm over the winter and who were planning to get married soon.

  “Put your stuff down here,” Mindy ordered, gesturing to the promised long table on one side of the busy dining area, “and then we can go play. Look, there’s Mercy!”

  Susan waved at Fern, who was sitting at the table chatting with Angelica, Xavier’s mom. Behind her, she heard Sam’s deep voice, greeting people.

  She glanced back to see that he’d paused to talk to a group of men clad in golf shirts. The preppy crowd. Of course. “I’ll keep an eye on the kids,” she said to Fern and Angelica, and followed the small pack of cousins before either woman could protest.

  Staying with the kids would keep her from spending too much time with handsome Sam.

  She watched them jump through the inflatables and play in the ball pit, all under Xavier’s leadership. When he’d gotten them all onto a little train that circled the club’s giant field, she sat down on a long bench under a tree to wait for the train’s return.

  A slight breeze rustled the leaves overhead, cooling Susan’s heated face. From the bandstand, patriotic songs rang out over the chatter of families. The aroma of roasting corn and hot dogs tickled her nose, reminding her of holidays in the park in her California hometown.

  Self-pity nudged at her. Holidays were meant to be experienced with family, and a lot of people here in Rescue River had a whole long tableful of relatives.

  She missed her mom and brother, Aunt Sakura and Uncle Ren, and her cousins, Missy and Cameron and Ryan. They hadn’t gathered often, but when they did, they’d always had a good time.

  Now Uncle Ren had passed away and her cousins were scattered all over the country. She bit her lip and forced herself to concentrate on the buzz of a nearby bee, the beauty of Queen Ann’s lace blooming beside the bench, the sight of Miss Lou Ann Miller carrying a tray of decorated cupcakes to the church’s booth.

  And of course, she wasn’t alone long. No one ever was in Rescue River. There was a tap on her shoulder, and Gramps Camden, her buddy from the Senior Towers, sat down heavily beside her on the bench. With him was a weathered-looking man whom she’d occasionally seen around town but didn’t know.

  And that, too, never lasted long in Rescue River.

  “Bob, meet Susan Hayashi. Susan, Bob Eakin. World War II Gliderman.”

  The thin old man held out a hand and gave her a surprisingly strong handshake. “And present-day librarian,” he added with a wink. “Don’t ever stop working. That’s what’ll kill you.”

  Since the man had to be in his nineties, if he’d fought in World War II, he must know what he was talking about. Susan shook his hand with both of her own. “I’m glad to meet you.”

  “He runs the library at the Towers,” Gramps explained. “Don’t worry, he was in Europe in the war, so he’s not gonna have any problem with your people.”

  Susan smiled at the
elderly man. “Thank you for your service, and I don’t just mean that as a cliché,” she said. “One of my great-grandfathers fought for Japan, but another was in an internment camp and eventually fought for the United States.”

  “Oh, in the 442nd?” His eyes lit up. “I was just reading about them. My buddy Fern brought me a new book about the various regiments.”

  “I can’t believe you know about that! I’d love to borrow it sometime,” she said. “I like history, but I don’t know much about that period.”

  “Shame what we did to Japanese Americans back then,” Mr. Eakin said. “We’ve learned better since. Is Rescue River treating you well?”

  Susan nodded, her feeling of loneliness gone. “You’re nice to ask. It’s a great town. I love it here.”

  Gramps Camden studied her approvingly. “You fit right in. But how’s your summer job with that Sam Hinton? Is he being fair to you?”

  “I’m doing my best, Mr. Camden,” came a deep voice behind them.

  Susan spun around at the sound of it, her heart rate accelerating.

  “Don’t creep up on people, Hinton,” Gramps complained. “We’re having a nice conversation. You just leave well enough alone.”

  Sam ignored the older man. “Brought you some appetizers,” he said to Susan. “I didn’t mean for you to get stuck watching the kids all day. Come on back and sit with the family.”

  Gramps snorted. “She doesn’t want to listen to your dad give her the third degree, and I don’t blame her.”

  Susan looked at Sam with alarm as she accepted the plate. “Is your dad going to give me the third degree? Why?”

  “Because he’s like his son,” Gramps jumped in, “a millionaire with no consideration for the common folk.”

  Susan looked up at Sam in time to notice the hurt expression that flickered briefly across his face. Now that she knew Sam better, she understood how unfair Gramps’s accusations were. Sam treated his workers well and bent over backward to contribute to the town’s well-being. “Sam’s not as much of a Scrooge as I expected,” she told Gramps, softening her words with a smile. “Maybe your information is a little bit out of date.”

  “The lady’s right,” Bob Eakin said, elbowing Gramps Camden. “Leave the man alone. He’s done his share for Rescue River, just like we all try to do.”

  The kids’ train returned then, and they all trooped back to the table.

  Susan’s plan of sitting with the children didn’t hold water, though, because Helen was there and adamant about her own position as Mindy’s grandmother. “I’ll help her if she needs it,” she insisted, sliding into the seat beside Mindy.

  So Susan had to sit with the other adults. Which turned out to be okay. She stuffed herself with hamburgers and corn on the cob and potato salad, and laughed with Daisy and Angelica, and generally had a good time.

  Mr. Hinton stopped by the table but demurred from eating with them. “I’ve got my eye on Camden. He’s sitting a little too close to Lou Ann Miller, and I’d better make sure he doesn’t bother her.”

  Daisy, Fern and Angelica exchanged glances. “Does Lou Ann have a preference for one or the other?” Daisy asked Angelica in a low voice.

  “She’s doing just fine on her own,” Fern said. “I think she likes being single.”

  “Exactly,” Angelica said, salting a second ear of corn. “I don’t think she’s wanting them to court her, but she can hardly say no if they put their plates down beside hers.”

  “Age cannot wither her, nor custom stale her infinite variety,” quoted Fern’s fiancé, Carlo, with a wink at Fern. “William Shakespeare, Antony and Cleopatra.”

  “He was in one play at Rescue River High School,” Angelica said, rolling her eyes at her brother, “but he uses it every chance he can get. Makes him seem literary.”

  “I love it when you quote Shakespeare at me,” Fern said, leaning her head on her husband-to-be’s shoulder with an exaggerated lash-flutter.

  Susan swallowed a huge bite of potato salad and waved her fork at the table of elders. “When I lived near the Senior Towers, I witnessed more drama than you see at a middle school. I wouldn’t be surprised if those two came to blows over Lou Ann.”

  “That’s for sure,” Fern said with a quiet laugh. “When I go there for book group or to replenish the library cart, things can get pretty lively. Even Bob Eakin has his lady friends, and he’s over ninety.”

  Sam was there, on the other side of Daisy, and it seemed to Susan that he watched her thoughtfully. At one point, as Angelica was apologizing for Gramps Camden’s crotchety attitudes, he broke in. “I’m sorry you had to deal with all of that,” he said. “I hope the older guys treated you okay.”

  “Mr. Eakin’s going to lend me a book about Japanese who fought for the US in World War II,” Susan said. “It’s no problem, Sam. I always got along with older relatives.”

  “Maybe so, but watch out for Mr. Hinton, Senior,” Angelica said in a low voice, grinning. “He’s a tough nut to crack.”

  Another remark about Sam’s dad. Hmm. After his appearance at the disastrous dinner she’d tried to cook, she wasn’t looking forward to seeing him again. Although, she reminded herself, it didn’t really matter what he thought. She was just a summer nanny.

  Still, right at this moment, Susan felt welcomed and affirmed, almost as if she was a part of the family. Which was strange...but nice.

  As they all talked about how full they were—and made trips to the buffet for seconds—a tall, curvaceous redhead walked hesitantly toward the table, her four subdued kids following, all looking to be under the age of eight.

  Susan’s teacher radar went up immediately. Why weren’t the kids looking happy in the presence of cotton candy and inflatables and face painters? Why the tension and caution?

  Helen jumped up to greet the woman. “Fiona! Come on, right here. I have a seat for you, and we can squeeze in your little ones at this end of the table. Have you eaten?”

  As she settled the woman beside Sam, Helen was practically glowing with excitement, and it all came clear to Susan.

  Helen had an agenda to set Sam up with a replacement Marie. And here she was.

  On Susan’s other side, Daisy filled in the facts. “Fiona Farmingham. Just moved to Rescue River to escape all the gossip. Her celebrity husband just died, and it turns out he had a whole other family down in Texas.”

  Susan looked at the woman with sympathy. “Do the kids know?”

  “Oh, yeah, they couldn’t help but hear about it. Apparently, they got teased pretty bad. Fiona is Marie’s distant cousin, so she knows the town. She’s hoping Rescue River will be a fresh start.”

  “Looks like they need one.”

  But as sympathetic as she felt, she couldn’t help feeling jealous as Sam and Fiona talked, egged on by Helen. Even after the rest of them had stood up, Sam and Fiona talked on.

  Helen came over to share her triumph with Susan and Daisy. “They’re hitting it off, I think,” she said in a confiding voice. “Look what lovely manners she has. And she was a stay-at-home mom, and she knows just how to keep a big house nice. She was kind of Marie’s role model in that.”

  “You doing some matchmaking, Helen?” Daisy asked bluntly.

  “Sam needs a wife, and Mindy needs a mother. It should have been Marie, but since it can’t...well. I hope he’ll find a woman who’s as like her as possible.” Helen’s eyes shone with unshed tears.

  Susan stuffed down the feelings of hurt and inadequacy prompted by Helen’s words. This was good. This was what she wanted: to keep a distance from Sam, which his serious dating of another woman would do. This would be good for Mindy, providing a mother figure and ready-made siblings.

  “She’s built like a model,” Daisy complained in Susan’s other ear. “And look, she’s just picking at her food. It’s hard to like
a woman like that.”

  But Fiona soon excused herself from Sam and came over to talk to them. “Are you guys the moms of these kids?” she asked, her voice throaty and surprisingly deep. “Because I’m fairly desperate for mom friends. I had to leave a lot of people behind when I moved, and I don’t know a soul here except for Helen. Well, and I’ve met Mindy a time or two.”

  Fern, who was unfailingly kind and accepting, started chatting with Fiona about her daughter, who was the same age as Fern’s daughter, Mercedes. Angelica joined in the conversation, and Susan had to admit: the woman was lovely. When she squatted down to see what the kids were doing, she greeted Mindy happily with a hug, reminding the little girl that they’d met before. Soon, she’d engaged all the kids in conversation, introducing her own, encouraging the kids to play together.

  As Fiona sat back down with Sam, now surrounded by her children and Mindy, Susan ground her teeth and gave herself a firm talking to.

  This was right; this was what everyone, herself included, wanted. Fiona was good with Mindy and was the type of woman Sam needed, way more than Susan herself was.

  She swallowed the giant lump in her throat.

  She needed to leave them to it.

  She excused herself from the others. She was left out anyway. Daisy had gone to see Dion and everyone else was talking. She pulled out her phone and shot Sam a text: Not feeling well, found a way home. There. That sounded breezy.

  Then she slipped away and out the side door of the country club.

  She’d achieved her goal of staying independent, she told herself as she started walking the two miles toward Sam’s house. And it was just her own stupidity that had her feeling teary and blue about it. She’d get over it. She was meant to be alone. This was how it was to be, and it was just going to have to be good enough.

  Chapter Seven

  After Susan left the table, Sam tried to focus on Fiona, new in town and someone his mother-in-law wanted him to get to know better. “She’s perfect for you and Mindy, Sam,” Helen had whispered as Fiona approached the table. “I know, four kids is a lot, but you have the resources. And she’s happy to stay at home. Wouldn’t that be wonderful for Mindy?”