Chapter 1
“Lillian, the orders are backing up here, get a move on!”
Lillian knew there was no point explaining that she had been refilling coffee cups and water glasses in answer to the constant stream of hands waving her down as she tried to get back to the counter. Buddy, the cook at and owner of Buddy’s Diner, was never satisfied with anyone who worked there. Keesha, the woman working behind the counter that day, gave Lillian a sympathetic smile as she handed over the next two plates.
It was hour ten of her third sixteen hour shift this week and Lillian’s feet were killing her but she wouldn’t get a break until this rush passed, no matter how long that took.
By the time her shift finished she was ready to fall asleep on the diner counter and she still had a four block walk ahead of her. “At least you get tomorrow off,” Keesha said as Lillian shrugged on her sweater. It was the middle of June but it had been raining the last few evenings making it cool as the day wore on.
“As long as I don’t get called in last minute,” Lillian said.
“Your little girl needs you,” Keesha insisted. “Don’t answer the phone tomorrow, okay? Just grab Wendy and go somewhere so Buddy can’t reach you for a few hours.”
“Sure. I’ve got to go. I’ll see you Sunday.”
It wasn’t the best neighbourhood but the buses didn’t run this late so Lillian had to walk. She had never been attacked but she considered herself very lucky for it.
“Just a few months,” she said to the empty street. “Just a few months and I’ll be finished that administrative assistant degree and I can get out of this place.” Just saying those words, ‘administrative assistant’ made her feel good. It sounded a lot better than ‘diner girl’ and a hell of a lot better ‘single unemployed mother’, which is what she would be if she took Keesha’s advice and dodged Buddy’s inevitable phone call in the morning.
She let herself into the apartment, got her mail and her neighbour’s mail, and went up. Her neighbour, an elderly woman with wispy white hair and twinkling blue eyes was sitting on the couch in Lillian’s apartment watching some late night talk show. Mrs. Jameson had been watching Wendy after school for four years now and the offer to do so had come as an unexpected kindness.
“How was she?” Lillian asked.
“Perfect, as always. That girl is sharp. I see big things in her future.”
“I hope you’re right.” She handed the elderly woman her mail. “Are you home tomorrow?”
“Did you pick up another shift?”
“No, but you know Buddy, he’ll probably call in the morning.”
“Don’t answer.”
“I know, but …”
“Money isn’t everything, Lillian. Your daughter needs you. She never sees you. You work three sixteen hour shifts and three eight hour shifts every week!”
“It’s only for a little while longer and then I’ll be able to get a nine-to-five job in an office, something that pays more than this crap job at the diner.”
“I admire you for wanting to better yourself, Lillian, but don’t do it at the expense of your relationship with your daughter.” She ripped open an envelope and started reading while Lillian set up the kettle for tea.
“I’m just grateful you’ll watch Wendy as much as you do. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“If you really want to thank me you’ll take next weekend off completely,” Mrs. Jameson said.
Lillian laughed. “You really think Buddy is going to give me a Saturday and a Sunday off in the same weekend?”
“Look, you remember my friend Julie from done in Dodge?” Mrs. Jameson seemed so intense and it made Lillian nervous she so turned away and fussed with the mugs and the tea bags.
“It’s not called Dodge, she’s from a ranching town. Wasn’t it called Wheaton?”
Mrs. Jameson waved her off. “Makes no difference, you remember her?”
“Only from what you’ve told me about her. Is she finally coming for a visit?”
“No. But you’re going to go visit her.”
Lillian laughed nervously. “Me? Why would I co visit your friend?”
Mrs. Jameson waved the letter at Lillian. “Julie says there’s this old rancher from around town and he just died, tragic but expected at his age.”
Lillian rolled his eyes. “What am I supposed to do? Go down there and claim to be his long lost daughter?”
Mrs. Jameson laughed. “Now wouldn’t that have been something. No, you’re going down there to meet the grandson, Gavin. He’s apparently looking for a live-in housekeeper.”
“Wheaton’s pretty far away,” Lillian said, hesitantly.
“You’ll be working from home. You can fold his laundry while you help your daughter with her homework. You can cook for her because you’ll be paid to cook for him. You can cook, right?”
“I can read a recipe,” I replied. I poured the water into the mugs and brought them to the table to steep. “He’s not going to hire me,” I said. “Look at me.”
“I see a lovely young woman who is strong, physically and mentally, who is capable and independent. Why wouldn’t he hire you?”
“Because these rich conservative ranching towns don’t like people like me?”
“Because you have a daughter and no husband? Because you work in a diner? Because you only have a high school education? Do you think the people who eat at Buddy’s respect you as much as they respect that great fat troll who scrambles their eggs?”
“Some of them do,” I said. I fetched the milk for her and the sugar for me.
She sat at the table. “It will be the same thing there. Some of them will give you an honest chance and will respect you simply because you’re a person, and some of them will require a little proving. Of course some of them may never come around but you can just ignore those ones.”
“What if he wants someone to wear a French maid outfit? What if he’s looking for a sex toy, someone whose ass he can pinch whenever he walks by?”
“Then walk away from the job. Can it really hurt to go through the interview?”
“Buddy could fire me for wanting the time off.”
The phone rang and she said, “That’s probably him looking to steal your day off tomorrow. Why don’t you ask him?”
Lillian picked up the phone and sure enough was greeted by Buddy’s rough voice. “You’re coming in tomorrow,” he said. “Be here for eight.”
“About that,” Lillian said. “I sort of had plans tomorrow.”
“Cancel them.”
“On one condition.”
“Condition?”
Lillian took a deep breath. “I need some time off, Buddy. I can’t keep working seven days a week. I’ll work opening next Friday, one shift, and then I want next Saturday off and I’ll work the late shift next Sunday. That’s only one day off, but it’ll feel like a whole weekend to me.”
“You’re pushing your luck Lillian Jones.”
“It’s one day, Buddy. It’s not like you have to pay me for a day off.”
The only thing Buddy liked more than being nasty to his staff was not paying them. “Done. But you’d better be behind the counter at eight tomorrow morning.”
“I’ve worked my three sixteens this week,” she reminded him. “So I’m done at four.”
“Fine,” he snarled and the line went dead.
She looked at Mrs. Jameson, her heart still pounding.
“Well? What did he say?”
“Call your friend Julie. I’ll need somewhere to stay next weekend.”
“You’re doing the right thing, Lillian. This is a good move for you.”
“If I even get the job.”
“Just show him a little backbone and that dazzling smile of yours and he’ll have no choice but to hire you, you’ll see.”
Wendy padded into the kitchen yawning. “Good morning Mom. What are we doing today?”
“I have to work.”
“You always have to work,” the sud
denly sullen –faced ten-year-old muttered. “What time?”
“Eight ‘til four, and then I’m coming straight home. We’ll go do our shopping and we’ll pick up something easy and fun for supper and we can do each other’s nails while we watch a movie. Deal?”
“Yeah, whatever. Guess I’ll go get dressed and head over to Mrs. Jameson’s.”
Lillian watched her daughter’s back as Mrs. Jameson’s words from the night before echoed in her mind. ‘Money isn’t everything, Lillian. Your daughter needs you.’
“My daughter needs money for clothes and an education,” Lillian muttered into her coffee. She looked at the clock and then quickly drained her mug. “Hurry up sweetie, I need to leave.”
Wendy appeared in jeans and a baggy shirt, which was her style of choice this week, and said, “I’m ready,” in a dry, almost exasperated voice.
Lillian sighed but said nothing. “Mrs. Jameson is expecting you. Be good today, okay?”
“Is it okay if I bike to the store with Zoey?” Zoey lived one floor up with her mom, she was a few years older than Wendy but they took the bus to school together every day.
“Sure, as long as you tell Mrs. Jameson before you go so she doesn’t panic. And don’t steal anything.”
“I don’t steal,” Wendy said.
“I know you don’t I just worry about everything. It’s a mom thing.” Out in the hallways she stopped and kissed Wendy’s forehead. “Have a good day.”
“Sure.” Wendy waved and let herself into Mrs. Jameson’s apartment.
Lillian sighed again, this time more in sorrow than frustration. “Just a few more months and I’ll finish that damn degree and then I’ll find a better job and I’ll be able to come home every evening to have dinner with my girl and I’ll be home every weekend with her and I’ll still have enough money to pay the rent.”
Chapter 2
Wheaton was a small town. There were a few small bays with lovely two-story, southern style bungalows and a wide main street with a gas station, hardware store, grocery store, post office, and a few other shops and restaurants. Just off the main street stood Wheaton Elementary and across the back field stood Wheaton Middle School and High School. It was a tiny dot of civilization in the middle of a vast sea of pasture land.
Lillian followed Mrs. Jameson’s directions and arrived at a lovely brown house with cream coloured trim and a neatly tended front garden. With a deep breath she went up to the door and knocked. A young woman came to the door. She was smiling but there was a look of confusion beneath that.
“Can I help you?”
“I’m looking for Julie Milton; I hope I have the right address.”
“Who are you, exactly?”
“Oh, I’m sorry, I’m Lillian Jones. Mrs. Milton’s friend, Mrs. Jameson, arranged for me to stay with Mrs. Milton for the weekend.”
“Oh! Of course. Grandma said you were coming. Come in.” She pushed the screen door open. “I’m Chelsey, by the way. Come on, I’ll show you my room and then I’ll introduce you to Grandma.”
Mrs. Julie Milton reminded Lillian of her own grandmother with her wide smile and her instant acceptance of this strange guest in her house. “I’m so glad I could help you out,” she said. “We’ll get you settled and tomorrow you can drive out to the ranch. That Gavin Asher, he’s something else.”
“Should I be worried?” Lillian said.
“No, no, there’s nothing off about him, just a lot of internal politics going on in his family right now and he’s right at the center of it. Still, not my place to gossip about it. He’ll tell you what you need to know if you get the job.”
“How many other people have applied for this job?”
“Probably ever single woman in town. And a few from the next county too. He hasn’t hired a single one of them. They probably batted their eyes at him and tried to act like they were on a date. You’ll want to go in there and prove you’re competent and efficient. Gavin Asher is single minded about running that ranch and he’ll appreciate an honest, hardworking woman more than an empty headed floozy.”
Chelsey laughed, “Grandma, you’re not allowed to call every single woman in the county a floozy.”
“I wasn’t, but they most likely are.”
The next morning Lillian took the hand-drawn map and guided the car she had borrowed from Keesha along the highway and gravel roads out to the Asher Ranch. There were three trucks, a tractor, and three cars in the lot beside the house. Lillian parked alongside one of the trucks, got out, and adjusted her shirt. She was wearing dress pants and a bold abstract floral print shirt in jewel-tones and just enough make-up to make it look like she actually cared about her appearance. Her only pair of nice shoes that weren’t three-inch heels was a pair of low-heeled, wide-strapped sandals.
She started towards the house. As she neared, the side door opened and a young woman came out. She was skinny, blonde, and dressed in low-slung jeans and a snug shirt. She was smiling over her shoulder and even though she wasn’t watching where she was walking she didn’t catch her heels on the threshold or the welcome mat.
The blonde stepped aside and Lillian could see the person she was talking to. He was young, probably not even thirty yet. His hair was light brown; she couldn’t see the colour of his eyes from here. He wore a button down with the sleeves rolled up above his elbows and faded jeans and heavy black boots.
Before either of them caught her staring, or drooling, she set her face in a professional smile and started up the steps. Her footfalls on the wood alerted them to her approached and their conversation dried up instantly.
The blonde tilted her chin up and crossed her arms over her chest, giving her boobs a push in the process. “Who are you?” she said.
The man behind her actually rolled his eyes. “It’s not like you have the job already,” he said. “Don’t start interrogating the guests.” There was a light southern drawl to his voice.
“I’m sorry Gavin,” she said, “I guess I just got a little excited. You just give me a call and let me know when you want me to start.” She smiled and wiggled her fingers at Gavin, then shot Lillian a dirty look, and strutted back to her car.
“Is the job already taken?” Lillian said.
Gavin shook his head. “And I won’t be hiring her. Thanks for showing up on time; I wasn’t sure she would actually leave. Come inside and we’ll talk about the job.”
Gavin was regretting his decision to hire a live-in housekeeper. Hiring one of those companies that sent someone to your house a few days a week sounded so much easier, but given how small Wheaton was there was no such service out here.
Between the chores, and the paperwork, and the barbed comments from his cousins and aunts, he had to fit in these damned interviews with women who looked like they had never touched a dirty dish in their lives. He had a dishwasher of course, but even he knew there were some things that didn’t go in. I get the feeling most of these young women wouldn’t know a pot from a frying pan.
He knew he was probably selling them short but their vapid expressions and empty conversation were making him irritable. This last one, a Miss Annabelle Stacey from the neighbouring town, had asked more questions about how much the ranch was worth than what her job would be, and her not-so-subtle attempts at flirting and thinly veiled remarks about marriage made his skin crawl.
It had taken him ten minutes just to walk her from the sitting room to the side door because she kept stopping to talk and he didn’t dare put a hand on her to move her along lest it be taken as an invitation, or used against him.
And then old Julie Milton’s friend from the city had shown up and sending Annabelle on her way had gotten ten times easier. And he didn’t want Annabelle around to see his reaction to his next possible employee.
She was pale, almost distressingly so. She had cut her dark hair short and wore it spiky in the back; it was very modern and suited her slender face but the dark hair paired with her pale skin made her look strict. She was built solid in the s
houlders and the hips but she was by no means fat and the pants and blouse she wore flattered her figure.
It was strange, he’d never really noticed the women around him, except to get annoyed with them, but here he was taking in every detail of her, from the understated make-up to the simple and practical sandals she wore.
“Uh, don’t worry about your shoes. Everything’s hardwood so unless you’re working in the barn you don’t need to take shoes off in the house.”
“There’s no carpet in the house at all?”
“Well there is in the bedrooms, not heavy carpet though. Would you like to see?”
She nodded. “This is probably the biggest house I’ve ever been in. No wonder you need someone to help you with the indoor chores.”
“I have four guys to help with the outdoor chores too. Ranching is a busy life. This is the kitchen, of course. The men eat here, or outside, depending on the weather and their mood. This is as far into the house as they usually go. The door there between the fridges leads into the dining room.”
“Two fridges?”
“Yeah, my grandfather bought a second one so the staff had somewhere to put their food.” He led her out and across the hall. “This is the sitting room, I almost never use it.” He continued up the hall. “This is the other door into the dining room, same thing, I almost always eat in the kitchen unless I have family over for dinner, which isn’t often. There are three guest rooms and a full bath on this level, and my office. The stairs at the end of the Hallway there lead down to the rec room and two more guest rooms, a full bath, and the laundry room. There’s a set of stairs leading up as well but the only things upstairs are the master bedroom and en suite bath.”
“It’s beautiful,” she said, running her hands up the polished wood of the doorframe. “How old is it?”
“About a hundred and thirty years. It’s been in the family for five generations.” He was beaming. Everyone came in here and saw wealth and opportunity yet she saw beauty and family.
Nanny for the Rancher Page 5
