by Jenny Hale
As Natalie left her at Adam’s office door, she thought about the commitment she was making. Natalie had said herself that Adam Fletcher was never home, and she’d have to provide round-the-clock care for the children. The thing was, while she knew that she should probably take a job with less work, join a book club, and begin having a social life of some sort, she didn’t really even know how to begin. Where would she go? She didn’t know anyone. She certainly couldn’t go out by herself in a city she didn’t know. So, she decided, for now, taking this job wasn’t so bad, because watching children was comfortable. She knocked on the office door.
“Come in, please,” she heard from the other side and, immediately, nervous energy raced through her fingers. It was probably a good thing that Adam worked all the time. Then she wouldn’t have to run into him as much.
Carrie opened the door to find him sitting behind a shiny, wooden desk, stained dark like everything else in the house. The entire back wall was covered in wood shelving like the playroom, and filled with books. Had he read them all? She wanted to walk closer and inspect the titles. One can learn a lot about a person by what books he reads. A floor lamp that reached upward and then curved toward the workspace cast a glow onto the surface of his desk. On his desk was a single picture frame but the back was to her, and she wondered if it had a photo of his kids. There was a soufflé ramekin next to it and a fork.
Carrie knew her dishes, and soufflés were one of her favorites. She could make sweet ones, spicy ones, savory ones… It didn’t matter, she loved them all.
Adam stood up. He had clearly noticed her looking at the dish. “I tried to make a soufflé,” he smiled sheepishly. “I absolutely love them, but I can’t seem to get it right.”
Upon closer inspection, she realized that he hadn’t eaten the soufflé, it was a withered, yellow spot baked into the bottom of the ramekin. The thought of such a successful person trying unsuccessfully to cook gave her a little punch of amusement, and she had to bite her lip to keep from smiling. “They aren’t as fussy as you’d imagine,” she said after recovering. “It’s all about getting enough air in the egg whites, that’s all. I’ll bet you did everything else right.”
For the first time, with a little huff of laughter preceding it, he smiled at her—a big, warm smile—and she reached for the nearest chair to steady herself. Just seeing that smile made her wonder what it would be like to come home to someone in the evenings, have someone like him to talk to, another adult to ask about her day.
“Maybe you can show me how sometime.”
She swallowed so she could get words to come out of her mouth. “I’d love to,” she said.
“Have a seat.” He pointed to the chair across from his desk. “Natalie’s staying with the children until they’re in bed tonight. You won’t officially start until tomorrow. So, let’s go over your duties.”
Carrie was glad to sit down for two reasons: one, she could rest her hands on her thighs and keep them still, and two, her legs were becoming jellylike from their little soufflé moment. From what she’d seen so far, Adam was kind and warm, but there was something about him that was extremely intimidating. She could tell just by how he held himself, how smart he was and how fierce he probably was at his job. Whatever his career, he’d made a very nice living—so nice even that was intimidating. Carrie had worked for wealthy people before, but never anyone this wealthy. Her own upbringing was so different than this lifestyle, and she feared she may do or say something to draw attention to her different background.
“Shall we jump right in?” he said, forcing her to make eye contact.
“Yes,” she smiled nervously. To her dismay, she could feel the heat rising up her neck, and she knew she must be a splotchy mess. She was perfectly aware of how to sit, how to hold her shoulders, and how to smile to look confident, but her redness always gave her away. Her book didn’t have an answer for that. His expression was softer all of a sudden, as if he were taking her in. It only made her feel more nervous. He saw the red spots, she knew it.
“Oh, I’m so sorry,” he said. “I haven’t even given you a moment to get settled. Would you like something to drink?”
Glass of wine? she thought with amusement. She needed something to settle her nerves. If he gave her a glass to hold, she’d probably spill it all over her lap. “I’m fine, thank you,” she said, keeping her hands on her thighs.
“Okay then. Well…” He leaned on his desk with his forearms. It reminded her of something she’d read about how waiters should squat down by tables to take people’s orders in restaurants. Their proximity was supposed to put the patrons at ease. Was Adam trying to put her at ease? Could he sense her nervousness?
“I have a cleaning lady who comes once a week, first thing in the morning. Name’s Rose. So, you won’t have to clean while you’re here. Your entire focus should be the children. You’ll be moving into Natalie’s bedroom upstairs,” he said. “It’s closest to the kids’ rooms. I had her change the sheets today and clean up after herself, so it’s ready for you. Do you have your bags with you today?”
“Yes. I left them in the car.”
“No problem, I’ll help you get them in. It’s snowing quite a bit outside. We’d better do that soon.”
“Okay.” Okay? Carrie wanted to look like she knew what she was doing, because she did! But she was coming off like a complete fool. She could hardly string two sentences together around Adam Fletcher. For the first time in her adult life, she became conscious of her own expressions, wondering how she seemed to him. What did she look like to him? She had never contemplated the idea before; she’d always just acted naturally, but with Adam, she wanted to look confident and attractive. She didn’t know what to do with the fear that swept through her at the thought that she didn’t look anything like the person she wanted to be for Adam.
“Basically, the house is yours—whatever you need, feel free to use it. You’re in charge of the children the entire time they’re here. I have them until January, when they’ll return to their mother after Christmas break. You come highly recommended, so I trust you to use whatever techniques you feel appropriate, and I’ll let you know if I disagree with any of your strategies.”
“Do the children have any special requirements, any allergies or anything that I should be made aware of?” she asked, trying to get her mind back on the job. She was glad to be talking about the children. It was easing her anxiety a bit. Children, she knew.
“Nope. None that I know of.”
“Excellent. How about naptimes and bedtimes?”
Adam had looked so assertive, so strong, but with that question, she thought she saw uncertainty on his face—it was subtle, but she’d caught it. She wasn’t able to put her finger on it completely yet, but she sensed a stark difference about Adam and his children than she’d experienced with her other families.
He jotted something onto a pad of paper. “I’ll make a note to ask Natalie to leave you a list of specifics regarding times, food preferences, and the like.” He continued to write, and she was glad for the break in eye contact. “Let’s talk about Christmas,” he said.
Christmas! She was so happy he’d mentioned it. “Do you celebrate it?” she asked carefully, surprised that he’d brought it up, given that there wasn’t a single decoration in the house.
“Of course!” He smiled again, sending her stomach into a whirl of flutters. “I’ve taken four days off over the holidays. My family is coming here since this is my first Christmas with the kids—they usually stay with their mother, but she’s off to Italy, the Amalfi Coast.” Did Carrie detect a wounded quality to his voice at the mention of his ex-wife? He cleared his throat. “My mother insists on coming, so you’ll have a house full of my relatives. Do not feel in the slightest that you need to entertain them. Your only duties are regarding the children’s needs.”
Again, she’d be put in a situation that she’d never experienced: having to watch the children under the eye of Adam’s family. Were they lik
e him—extremely successful, intimidating…? Was she going to be nervous the entire holiday? She looked at the man across from her and tried to envision what his parents would be like. Who had raised this wealthy man who worked all but four days at Christmas? Who had made him into the person he was? Had he built quiet block towers in a museum of a toy room or had he sunk his hands up to his elbows in paint to see what all the colors mixed together might look like? She imagined that he was probably the block-type, and that only heightened her nervousness regarding his family.
“Are they staying through Christmas day?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“So… Were you planning to…” She didn’t want to offend him on day one, but she had to ask. After all, they were into the month of December. “Were you going to get a tree or anything?”
“Ye-es,” he said slowly with thought behind it. It was clear that the idea had only just occurred to him. “I’m sorry. I haven’t had anyone here at Christmas before, and with the kids always at their mother’s, I never did anything special for the holiday. I was going to give you a credit card to order a few gifts for the kids online. From me…”
Her eyes wanted to pop out of their sockets, her mouth wanted to hang down to the floor in exasperation, but she kept it all inside. What about Santa Claus? What about tree decorating and cookie baking? Didn’t he realize how important those experiences were? And didn’t he know what to buy his own children? No wonder they hadn’t run to him. They probably hadn’t spent enough time with him to feel anything for him! She hoped to goodness the kids got all those experiences at their mother’s because it was clear that Adam wasn’t going to do it. Then, she stopped herself. She was jumping to conclusions, judging Adam when she didn’t know all the facts yet, however clear to her they seemed.
“May I have a small allowance for holiday activities?” she asked.
“Absolutely. Buy whatever you’d like. And you can decorate the house too. It would make my mother easier to live with,” he grinned at her. So, he wasn’t completely closed off to the idea. Carrie wondered if, like the kids, he too just needed to get his hands in some paint to loosen up. She thought of his sleeves rolled up, his fingers covered in primary colors, the children beside him, that smile on his face… That perfect family picture she created started to spin anxiety through her stomach as she realized that she was fantasizing about someone who most likely would not ever put himself in that position. Then, quickly, she cleared her mind of it before the splotches returned.
“David and Olivia have a Christmas pageant on December twenty-first. The family may want to attend, but just to be sure I’ve got all my ducks in a row, I’d like you to be in charge of getting the kids there. It’s at five o’clock.”
She pulled out her cell phone and keyed in the date and time. As she did, she wondered if he was asking her to take them because he wasn’t planning on going. Wouldn’t he want to see his children dressed as little angels or the baby Jesus? Didn’t he realize that he only had a blip in his life to see them like that, and then they’d be too old?
“I’m sure you’re ready to have some supper. Shall we get your bags?” he asked.
“Okay,” she said, inwardly wincing at supplying her same one-word response. Perhaps in time, she’d get over the fact that he was successful, handsome, kind, and single… She could only hope.
Chapter Four
Speak confidently. Confidence is key in making favorable first impressions.
“Let me just grab a few beers on the way in.” Adam closed the garage door, shutting out the drifting snow, and set her suitcases down. “Do you like beer, by chance?” he asked. He led her to a stainless steel refrigerator-like contraption on the far wall of the garage. With a tug on the handle, the door opened, revealing rows upon rows of brown, long-necked bottles. They had trendy yellow and red labels that read Salty Shockoe. Carrie followed the curly S’s with her eyes, noting the detail in the lettering.
The truth was she actually did like beer. Back in college, she’d been the only one of her friends who really, truly preferred it to other drinks. She would come home on the weekends and watch football with her dad. He always let her pick the beer, and their visits to the supermarket to get snacks before games were fond memories. As they sat on the sofa together, her mother would plop down beside them, wrinkle her nose at their bottles, watch a few minutes of the game and then busy herself with something else, but Carrie could stay there all day. She hadn’t recalled a memory like that in quite a while. It made her feel nostalgic and lonely at the same time.
She’d never seen this particular brand of beer before, but Carrie had heard how Richmond was known for its craft beers and microbrews. It had been featured on a travel show on TV once. It seemed fitting now that she’d seen Richmond with all its historical buildings and casual feel. The whole city had a rustic quality to it. Brick buildings, cobblestone streets still in place, front porches. Just like a good beer, Richmond was hearty, its culture evident and strong, rich with flavor and history.
“I do like beer,” she said, wondering why Adam had so many bottles. He was very wealthy, and he could afford to stockpile his favorite beer if he wanted to. But when did he have time to drink it? Perhaps that’s why there were still so many in the fridge. Did he drink it alone in that airy office of his? The idea made her look at him a little differently. Was he as lonely as she was? Did he work too much just like her?
“You do like beer?” He looked surprised. Then she thought about what he probably saw when he looked at her: her light brown hair tucked behind her ears, her colorless lip gloss, her frumpy sweater. She probably didn’t look like she ever went out a day in her life. It had been so long since she’d had any opportunity to go out, she’d sort of forgotten about herself and what she must look like to other people. The feelings of inadequacy stirred inside her.
With children, she didn’t have to worry about how she looked or what she said. With adults, she had to be more careful, think more about how they may view her, and it made her uneasy. Compounding her uneasiness was the fact that she knew once she found a different career and actually had the time to go out, she didn’t feel comfortable having drinks with strangers or going to bars to meet people. She just wanted that one person who would love her in her frumpy sweater and bunchy socks with spit up on her shoulder. Finding that one person, though, seemed exhausting. It had been different when she was in college—she could go out to bars with all her friends and meet people with no problem, but now, in her thirties, when everyone else she knew was settled down in careers and families, there wasn’t anyone to go out with, and certainly far fewer people to meet in her age range. She worried that working professionals who frequented bars in the city probably didn’t have very much in common with her. No one would understand her kind of life. It seemed hopeless.
Adam shut the door to the refrigerator. “Follow me. I’ll get you some supper and you can try this.” He held up one of the bottles. Was he going to have a drink with her? What would she say to him? How could she make conversation? She’d been out of the game too long to know how to talk to a man with no children pulling on her attention. Perhaps they could talk about David and Olivia, she thought. But what would she say once that conversation had died down? She didn’t know much about the area or anything about him. A prickle of nervousness pelted her skin. She’d only just gotten there, she kept telling herself, so it would take a little while for her to become comfortable and assertive. But she would eventually relax. Right?
Carrie followed Adam down the hallway until they reached the kitchen. The smell of something cooking in the oven made her tummy rumble. Natalie and the children weren’t there. She guessed that the children must have already finished supper and were on their way to their baths, and she felt a little sad that she couldn’t share her meal with them. Meals were the best time to talk to each other. It would have been a perfect time to get to know them. While she was glad to have the chance to learn more about Adam, she wondered why
he hadn’t spent much time with them. Why was he having a drink with her when he could’ve eaten supper with the children, played with them, gotten them ready for bed himself?
Adam popped the top off one of the bottles and poured out a small amount. “It’s better in a glass the first time you drink it. You can taste it better,” he said, handing it to her.
When the froth had fizzled, she took a sip. It was really good. The flavor of it took her right back to all those weekends with her dad: the team jerseys they wore on game day, tossing footballs in the backyard after the game, the smell of burgers on the grill. Those memories were so rich, so happy, that she felt sad because she hadn’t had anything like that in years. Would she ever have her own family to make memories like those?
“What do you think?” he asked, taking a sip from his own bottle.
“It’s delicious,” she said. Her memories and the beer had calmed her significantly. Familiar, she thought with a grin. I’ll bet that’s what my book had meant. She turned the bottle around in her hand and peered down at the label. “I’ve never had this brand before. I like the label,” she said out loud by accident. This was why she shouldn’t go out and try to meet people, she thought, because she ended up talking about beer labels. Her skills in being alluring and interesting were horrifying.
Politely, Adam looked down at his bottle, studying it. “I don’t know. I’m not sure about all the white space there,” he said, pointing to the label. He was clearly trying to make her stupid comment seem relevant, but she knew good and well what a ridiculous topic she’d started. She should have known better. She’d read a book about how to handle social interactions with strangers: Smile. When the stranger begins to speak, listen by making eye contact. Head nodding is often an appropriate response to show interest. At the time she’d read it, it had sounded ridiculous, and she’d thought any idiot would know that. Now, she mentally retracted that statement. She didn’t want to contemplate the fact that she’d just fallen into the “Idiot” category.
