The Summer Nanny

by Holly Chamberlin

  But wishes were dangerous things.

  Chapter 16

  Amy had hurriedly ushered Hayley into the house. “Wait for me in the living room,” she instructed. “I have to take the cookies out of the oven in like two seconds.”

  Hayley had gone into the living room as directed. No sooner had she sat on the couch than Winston made himself at home on her lap. Hayley liked cats and dogs. One day, she would like to adopt an animal. That is, if she were ever able to live on her own without worrying about her family, and most days that seemed like an impossible dream.

  “Ready for my big news?” Amy asked, suddenly standing in the doorway. Hayley had never seen her look so excited. “I got the job working for Cressida Prior!”

  “You got the job?” Hayley was surprised. She was very fond of her friend, but she wasn’t at all confident that Amy would make a successful nanny.

  Amy plopped into an armchair. “Yup. And don’t you recognize the name?”

  “Nope,” Hayley admitted.

  “Cressida Prior of Prior Ascendancy. It’s this huge successful company she founded all on her own.”

  Hayley scratched Winston’s chin more vigorously. “She thinks pretty highly of herself, doesn’t she? Ascendancy? Gods ascend. People don’t.”

  “I think it’s a good name for a company,” Amy said robustly. “It sounds important. Anyway, how did your interview go?”

  “Fine. I should know by later today if I got the job.”

  “What was Mrs. Whitby like?” Amy asked.

  “She was pretty down-to-earth,” Hayley told her. “Not what I expected.”

  “I’m sure you’ll get the job,” Amy said firmly. “Wait, did I tell you how much I’m getting paid?”

  “No, and I don’t need to know. A person’s salary is a private matter.”

  “Come on,” Amy cried. “You’re my best friend. I’m going to tell you, so get ready.”

  Amy did tell her, and for a terrible moment Hayley felt her entire body buzz with jealousy. The salary Marisa Whitby was offering didn’t come near what Amy had been offered, but it still was significant. “That’s a lot of money,” she said neutrally. “What did your contact at the employment agency say about it? I mean, is it usual for a client to be so . . .” Hayley had been about to say “generous,” but somehow the word didn’t seem right.

  Amy laughed. “OMG, I forgot to tell you, too! Cressida hired me privately. I mean, she found my name through the agency, but our agreement is totally between us.”

  “Is that right?” Hayley commented. Every alarm bell in her cautionary system was going off, but she had known Amy long enough to be sure that nothing she could say right now would make her friend take a closer and more critical look at the situation in which she found herself. “You should be able to save at least five thousand dollars by the end of the summer.”

  “Yeah, but I’m also going to buy some things I’ve been totally wanting. Hey, I almost forgot. I saw your father the other day. He was driving an old Mustang. Since when does he have a cool car?”

  “Since never,” Hayley told her. “It belongs to one of his cronies. I don’t know what’s wrong with the guy to have loaned it to my father. He’s got to know the car’s going to come back damaged or worse.”

  Amy sighed. “I know I shouldn’t speak ill of your father, but he really is a scoundrel.”

  “Scoundrels have charm,” Hayley corrected. “My father has about as much charm as a slug.”

  “I wonder why your mother married him. There had to be something that made her blind to his faults. Love, I suppose.”

  “Lust,” Hayley corrected. “My father was good-looking back then, before he got all bloated and bleary eyed with booze. I’ve seen pictures. My mother’s head must have been turned by his flashing eyes, because he certainly didn’t have anything else going for him.”

  “Did your mother’s parents ever try to intervene once she married your father?” Amy asked with a frown.

  “I don’t know,” Hayley said. “Anyway, what could they have done? I do know they were totally against the marriage. My grandmother told me once when my mother took Brandon and me to visit. And when my grandparents died, all my father wanted to know was if my mother was left any money.”

  “Was she?” Amy asked.

  “About enough to bury her parents and to pay off a few outstanding debts,” Hayley said. “My father wasn’t happy. He has this huge sense of entitlement, like the world owes him something simply because he’s alive. The world doesn’t owe anyone anything.”

  “That’s a grim way of looking at things,” Amy said.

  “Not grim,” Hayley argued. “Just realistic.” She ran her hand down Winston’s silky back. Life was fundamentally unfair, she thought. There was no such thing as a magic wand, and miracles only happened in movies. The sooner you accepted that, the better.

  Suddenly, Amy jumped to her feet. “I think we should celebrate! The cookies should be cool by now. Come on!”

  Dutifully, Hayley followed Amy to the kitchen, only after extricating herself from under eighteen pounds of annoyed cat.

  Chapter 17

  Amy parked in the lot behind the old-fashioned pharmacy and set out in the direction of The Yellow Buttercup. She was on a preshopping mission in preparation for the days in the not-too-distant future when she would have real disposable income, not the occasional few dollars she had now. With all the money Cressida would be paying her, there would be more than enough to spend on fun extras. And, of course, some left over to put in the bank.

  The night before, Amy had spent over an hour reading up on Prior Ascendancy, but she still wasn’t 100 percent clear on how the company worked. And she hadn’t bothered to check out Cressida’s reputation on any of the nanny websites like her mother had suggested. Cressida Prior was famous. She had won her first award from an organization that recognized excellence in business before she was thirty. Of course she would be a fantastic boss.

  Amy was just outside The Yellow Buttercup when she spotted Noah Woolrich across the street, standing outside the new artisanal candy shop and talking on his cell phone. Everyone in Yorktide knew that Noah’s romantic interest in Amy dated back to their grammar school days. In first grade he had given her an envelope in which he had put three pennies and a note written in blue crayon. The note had read: yur friend noah. It was the first of many small gestures that had continued until, in seventh grade, Noah had gathered his courage to ask Amy to be his date to the spring social. Amy had said no. She thought that Noah was nice, but she was in no way ready to like boys “in that way.” And from that point on Noah had seemed content to admire from afar. It wasn’t until he had moved back to Yorktide in early May that he had really spoken to her again. They had run into each other in Hannaford. Amy had felt genuinely glad to see him, and they had parted with vague promises to get together at some point.

  Amy was about to wave when a very pretty young woman she didn’t recognize came out of the candy shop and joined Noah. Amy felt a strange twinge in her stomach. But that was silly. She wasn’t interested in Noah, so she couldn’t be jealous. Amy watched as Noah enveloped the young woman in a hug. And then she turned abruptly and climbed the two low steps to the store.

  A bell above the door tinkled prettily as Amy stepped inside. She immediately saw that she was the only customer. The store was crowded with merchandise, mostly beautiful clothing and accessories but there were also displays of scented candles, home decorating books, and handmade soaps. Amy wandered slowly through the offerings. She had never been able to afford anything at The Yellow Buttercup, but before too long she would be able to buy, say . . . Amy’s eyes widened. Four hundred dollars for a cotton scarf? Even if she had as much money as Cressida Prior, she wasn’t sure she would feel comfortable spending four hundred dollars on a scarf. But maybe she would. Everything was relative. Hayley was always saying that.

  Amy roamed on, occasionally picking up an item to examine it more closely. She avoided maki
ng eye contact with the well-dressed saleswoman behind the counter at the back of the store. She was a little embarrassed that she wasn’t there to actually buy anything. Not that she was wasting anyone’s time or anything....

  The saleswoman suddenly cleared her throat, and Amy startled. Maybe the saleswoman thought she was a shoplifter. Maybe she knew that Amy couldn’t afford a single thing in the store, not even a fifteen-dollar scented candle. Slowly but purposely Amy walked to the door and left the store, half-expecting the saleswoman to follow her out and demand to see the contents of her pockets. But the saleswoman did not follow, and Amy felt annoyed with herself. Why had she felt as if she didn’t belong in The Yellow Buttercup? Her money was as good as anyone’s. Rather, the money she would have before long.

  Noah and the mystery woman were nowhere in sight. Amy was glad. She was also curious. But just a little bit.

  Chapter 18

  It was a cool, rainy afternoon, more like late September than June. Leda was in her studio working on a set of cushion covers one of her neighbors had ordered. Her thoughts, however, had again drifted to Amy and the situation she had accepted from Cressida Prior.

  Leda’s daughter had few faults, but the biggest one was that she was not the best judge of character. To be fair, there were times when even the most astute judge of character was fooled into believing an unethical person ethical or a criminal person innocent, but Amy had made too many bad calls for her mother’s comfort. There was, for example, the time when, in spite of education about the dangers of going off with strangers, a ten-year-old Amy had been just about to get into the car of a couple who claimed they could best find their lost puppy only with her help, when miraculously Vera had come along and saved the day. “But they were so sad,” Amy had told Vera, who was leading Amy home by the hand. “How could I say no?”

  Then, when Amy was fifteen, her head had been completely turned by an eighteen-year-old senior who had beguiled her with tales of his selfless work in an unnamed nursing home and his volunteer services at an unnamed no-kill animal shelter, until one afternoon Amy had come tearing into the house only to tell Leda that this paragon of virtue had been arrested for illegal possession of a firearm. “And I almost said yes to a date with him!” Amy had cried. “How could I not have seen the truth?”

  Most recently, in her freshman year of college, Amy had found herself the victim of a Mean Girl plot; the new friend from English class who had seemed so interested in getting to know Amy had one day cruelly cut her off. “She wouldn’t even look at me,” Amy had complained to her mother that evening, in genuine distress. “I said hello like I always do, but she just turned away. What did I do wrong?”

  But there was little Leda could do now that Amy had taken the position other than offer mild warnings and hope that Amy didn’t react by doing just the opposite of what her mother was warning against.

  The back door banged open and shut, and a moment later Vera appeared in the studio. She was wearing a bulky knit sweater and a beret. “I love days like this,” she said. “If it weren’t for the money I earn in summer, I’d want it to be fall all year round.”

  Leda smiled. “Wouldn’t you miss lazy afternoons sunning yourself at the beach?”

  Vera dropped into the old armchair that had once belonged to Leda’s grandmother. “Like I ever have an afternoon off? So, how did Amy’s big interview go?”

  “Funny you should ask,” Leda said, and she told Vera about Amy’s getting the position immediately and how Ms. Prior, founder and president “or something” of Prior Ascendancy, had told Amy there was no need for a written contract or for the employment agency to be involved.

  “What crap,” Vera said, reaching down to scratch Harry’s head as he leaned against her leg. “You’d better believe she’s got an army of lawyers hashing out even the tiniest business transaction she makes. And without the agency there’s no referee, as it were, to negotiate if problems arise. What’s she playing at, I wonder.”

  “Taking advantage of a young woman who’s clearly not the savviest person you’ll meet?” Leda suggested.

  “Well, not that I want anything bad to happen to Amy, but if she is taken advantage of by this woman it’s a lesson learned. What does Prior Ascendancy do, anyway?” Vera asked.

  “Don’t ask Amy. She doesn’t know. As far as I can make out, Prior Ascendancy organizes conventions and annual meetings for groups like dentists and food wholesalers.”

  Vera grimaced. “That doesn’t sound very glamorous.”

  “And get this. Amy wasn’t introduced to the children. I don’t know about you, but if I were hiring someone to care for my children I’d want to be sure they took to the person before I went ahead and took her on.”

  “That is odd,” Vera said. “For Amy’s sake let’s hope the kids aren’t undisciplined monsters.”

  “And she didn’t ask to see Amy’s list of references. For all Cressida Prior knows, she could have been hiring a criminal. I don’t know, Vera, nothing about this situation seems right.”

  “I agree there are some strange things about it. But keep in mind that given your history you were prejudiced about Amy’s working as a nanny from the start.”

  “I know. Still, take a look at this.” Leda handed her friend the booklet Ms. Prior had given Amy.

  Vera flipped through the booklet, occasionally stopping to read a page closely. After a moment, she looked up. “There’s nothing in here about the care of the children,” she said. “This is ridiculous. Don’t bring chips or other snacks into the house. Be sure to use hand sanitizer before leaving the bathroom. No shorts. No halter tops. Who wears halter tops these days?”

  Leda frowned. “I have a feeling this summer is going to prove very interesting. Now, how about a cup of hot chocolate to go with this autumnal weather we’re having?”

  Chapter 19

  Hayley was engaged in scrubbing the kitchen sink when her cell phone rang. Hurriedly, she wiped her hands on a towel that had seen better days and then answered.

  “Hayley?” a pleasant voice said. “This is Marisa Whitby.”

  “Oh,” Hayley said. She was aware of a slight fluttering of butterfly wings in her stomach. “Hello.”

  “I’m calling to offer you the position as nanny to Lily and Layla,” Marisa said. “Your references were impeccable, and I really enjoyed our conversation yesterday. More, the girls seem to take to you. So, what do you think? I hope you’re still interested. I wanted to call as soon as possible in case you were offered another position.”

  Hayley leaned back against the sink. She felt downright faint with relief. “I think, I mean, yes, thank you,” she said. “Thank you very much. I’d love to work for you this summer.”

  “I’m so glad!” Marisa went on to outline the terms of the agreement they had discussed the day before and promised to drop off two copies of a contract later that day.

  “No,” Hayley said quickly. Marisa could not come to her home. Ever. “I mean, thank you, but I’ll come by and pick it up if that’s all right.”

  Marisa agreed, and they ended the call.

  Hayley stood against the sink and allowed this monumental news to sink it. The idea of finally being able to get out of Yorktide—her mother in tow—seemed almost like a real possibility now. Almost. If she could work as a summer nanny for a few years, she might just be able to save enough money to make a clean break. And who knew whom she might meet while working for wealthy people like the Whitbys? Someone who might recognize her intelligence and her thirst for knowledge and decide to sponsor her education, someone who might . . .

  With a sharp tug, Hayley reined in her excitement. She was too practical and had experienced too much hard luck to believe in wonderful things happening for her. And she was still wary of the Whitbys, in spite of what she had seen of Marisa. People with the kind of money they had couldn’t be as decent as Marisa seemed to be.

  Hayley walked rapidly to her room in order to change into something presentable. She couldn’t
show up at the Whitbys’ home wearing her old cutoff jean shorts and a tank top. And in spite of the wariness that was natural to her, she realized that she felt the need to celebrate this moment. On her way back from the Whitbys’ house, she would stop at Dunkin’ Donuts and buy one of those seriously overpriced frothy coffee drinks. Maybe. Probably not.

  Chapter 20

  Leda did a quick mental check to see if there was anything she had forgotten to set out. Amy’s graduation party had to be perfect. Vera had provided the food, so that wasn’t a worry. Leda had picked up the cake from Bread and Roses that morning. Phil had provided gorgeous arrangements of pink and white roses as his gift to Amy. The drinks table was well stocked. The only thing that might be considered missing was music. Leda didn’t have a sound system that could handle parties.

  Amy’s diploma was temporarily stuck to a piece of board displayed on an easel set up in the kitchen. After the party, Leda would have the diploma properly laminated. She was proud of her daughter. Academics didn’t come easily to Amy, but she had graduated with a respectable grade point average. No more could be asked for.

  Leda took a sip of the very nice wine that Vera had been able to provide with a major discount and looked over to where Amy was chatting with the girls she would be living with in Boston come September. Amy had known all three of them since freshman year. Tracy would be attending law school. Stella had plans to work as a hostess in an upscale restaurant. Her father was the one who had set aside an apartment for the girls in one of the buildings he owned in Allston; he was giving them a significant cut on the rent. The third girl, Megan, would be continuing on the path to becoming a licensed physical therapist. They were all smart and decent young women, and Leda had no worries about one of them evolving into a bad influence on the others.

  Hayley, too, had come to the party, but without her mother. That was no surprise. Increasingly Nora Franklin had become a bit of a recluse. Word around town was that she no longer even attended church on Sundays. Leda knew for sure that many years ago Father Mark and members of Saint Matthew’s Women’s Council had tried to stage an intervention of sorts but that it had come to nothing.