The Summer Nanny

by Holly Chamberlin

  “We’re home!”

  Marisa’s voice brought Hayley back to the moment with a start. Those memories had been an all-too-forceful reminder of the enormous gap between her and the Whitby family. She took a deep breath and hurried to meet Marisa and the girls.

  Marisa smiled brightly when Hayley joined her in the hall. “It’s a beautiful morning, isn’t it?” she said.

  “Yes,” Hayley said, returning Marisa’s smile in spite of her conscience nagging at her. With an effort, she shook aside the feelings of guilt and lifted Lily from the double stroller. After all, she deserved a decent life as much as Marisa did. Didn’t she?

  Chapter 49

  Just before six a.m. Amy was ready to leave for her journey to Connecticut. First, she was to stop at Cressida’s house to pick up the document she was to deliver to the lawyer’s office in downtown Hartford. She had looked at a map online for the best route to take during morning rush hour and had written out the directions in large print on a sheet of white paper. Her car didn’t have a GPS unit; her mother’s car did, but Amy didn’t want to ask to borrow the Subaru. She was a little nervous about driving in big-city traffic for what would be the first time, and if she was going to do something stupid like hit the car in front of her she wanted it to be with her own vehicle and not someone else’s.

  Amy yawned. Mornings were not her strong point. She had gone to bed early the night before in the hopes that a few additional hours of sleep would make getting up at five easier, but the plan had backfired. She had lain awake until almost midnight, too keyed up to drift off. Even after two cups of coffee this morning Amy felt almost dizzy with tiredness. She would have to stop on the road at least once for another cup of coffee, and maybe she would treat herself to a doughnut as well. The sugar might help revive her. She just wouldn’t tell Cressida she had eaten something so full of empty calories.

  Amy flinched when her phone alerted her to a text. It was from Cressida. The delivery was off. Amy felt a sudden rush of disappointment. Part of her had been looking forward to this little adventure. She was also, she realized, a tiny bit annoyed. If she had known last night that the trip was off she could have slept later this morning. And then she realized that she might be facing an unexpected day off. Though she loved spending time with Cressida, it would be nice to have some time to herself. Hayley did have a point about it being the norm for an employee to have certain days off so she could live her life.

  And then came another text from Cressida. Amy was to be at the house at seven. So much for going back to bed. With a sigh, Amy poured a third cup of coffee and then went to the bread box, where there was a loaf of cinnamon raisin bread. A few slices of that with real butter, not that diet stuff she had started using on Cressida’s recommendation, would be almost as good as a doughnut.

  * * *

  Cathi nodded toward the small stage. “The bass player is so cute. I love burly guys. He looks like a Viking with that thick blond hair and that gorgeous beard.”

  Amy was at The White Hart with Cathi, Michelle, and Sarah. At the last minute, Hayley had begged off without a reason, which probably meant that she felt it was necessary to stay at home with her mother. Eddie Franklin must be on a tear.

  Thinking about Hayley’s lack of explanation for not being at The White Hart that evening, it had dawned on Amy that Cressida hadn’t apologized or offered an explanation for the last-minute change in plans. But that was okay. Cressida had let her go at three instead of four, and before that she had let Amy look through her closet on her own. Cressida Prior, founder of Prior Ascendancy, trusted her.

  “Who is he, anyway?” Sarah was saying.

  “His name is Noah Woolrich,” Michelle told her. “He went away to college in New Jersey. I wonder what brought him back here. I mean, most people who leave don’t come back. I know I probably wouldn’t.”

  “Maybe he wants to be near his family,” Amy suggested. “His parents aren’t in great health, and his uncle isn’t getting any younger and he is a widower.”

  Michelle nodded. “Noah is a gentle giant. I mean, he could probably flatten anyone in this pub with ease, but you know he would never lift a hand in violence.”

  “Is he seeing anyone?” Cathi asked.

  Michelle looked meaningfully at Amy. “No. He’s saving himself for our Amy!”

  “He is not,” Amy protested.

  “So, are you interested in him?” Cathi asked.

  Amy shrugged. “Not really. I mean no. Maybe someday. I don’t know.”

  The others laughed, though not unkindly. Amy looked toward the band again to find Noah smiling at her. She wiggled her fingers in a wave. She was glad she hadn’t had to drive to Connecticut and back today. If she had, she would probably have been too tired to meet her fellow nannies at The White Hart and then she would have missed seeing Noah. He really was awfully cute.

  “I wonder what the illustrious Cressida Prior would say about this place,” Michelle said. “As far as I can tell, no one is brokering big business deals and the only money being spent is on beer and French fries, which would make it pretty insignificant on her radar.”

  Amy felt a flush come to her cheeks. She couldn’t argue with Michelle. Cressida would turn up her nose at The White Hart, and maybe she would be right to. Amy moved her left foot and felt the sole of her espadrille stick to the floor.

  Cathi raised an eyebrow meaningfully. “Forget about The White Hart. I wonder what La Prior would make of Amy’s Noah Woolrich.”

  Sarah laughed. “From what I’ve heard she pretty much loathes and despises all men, though she’s not above using them when she needs something.”

  Amy suddenly remembered what Cressida had said about men seeing women as no more than their reproductive organs. Was that what Noah saw in her, a potential mother for his children and no more? She glanced again at the stage, a frown on her face.

  “I wonder why she bothered to get married in the first place,” Cathi said. “Any insights, Amy?”

  Amy shook her head. The question had fleetingly crossed her mind once or twice but she had ignored it. No doubt Cressida had had very good reasons for marrying Will, even if now they seemed an odd and mismatched couple.

  “Hey, wait a minute,” Michelle said. “Weren’t you supposed to go to Connecticut today on some crazy mission for La Prior?”

  Amy felt herself blush. She had kind of bragged to her fellow nannies about Cressida’s entrusting her with the delivery of an important document. She had been hoping that no one would mention the aborted mission.

  “Yes,” Amy said matter-of-factly. “But it wasn’t necessary for me to go after all.”

  Cathi frowned. “What do you mean, it wasn’t necessary?”

  Sarah raised an eyebrow. “She means Cressida decided Amy wasn’t trustworthy enough to carry a top-secret document out of the state.”

  “That’s not it at all,” Amy snapped. “It’s just—”

  “Shhh!” Michelle hissed. “I love this song!”

  The others focused on the band’s cover of a song by Nirvana. Amy felt grumpy and full of self-doubt. Maybe Cressida had changed her mind about her protégé. Maybe Cressida no longer believed in Amy and found her untrustworthy. Maybe, Amy thought, she should just get up and go home. She glanced again at the stage and decided she would stay a little bit longer. It was nice to see Noah.

  Chapter 50

  Leda had asked Vera to join her and Amy at dinner that evening. She felt the need to make a bit of a big deal about her announcement to enter her work in the FAF’s annual competition. Tooting one’s own horn wasn’t always a bad thing, Leda thought as she brought a pitcher of lemonade and a bottle of wine to the table. Not that she would take a page from Cressida Prior’s notebook and make a habit of it.

  Vera used the tongs to put a heap of fresh green beans on her plate. “So,” she said, “no road trip yesterday, I hear.”

  Amy shrugged. “It had to be cancelled at the last minute.”

  Leda came to t
he table with a platter of roasted chicken and vegetables. “I have some big news to share with you both,” she said as she took her seat.

  “What is it?” Amy asked, eyeing the platter of food with a frown.

  “Well, after a lot of thought and some urging from Phil, and from you, Vera, I’ve decided to enter one of my original tapestries in the FAF’s annual competition. The prize for Best Emerging Talent is a thousand dollars and a mention in the monthly newsletter. I’m pretty nervous about the whole thing and I know I won’t win, but I thought I’d give it a go.”

  Vera reached across the table for Leda’s hand. “I’m so glad to hear this, Leda,” she said. “And don’t say you know you won’t win. You don’t know any such thing.”

  Amy gave her mother a distracted smile. “That’s nice, Mom,” she said. “You know what Cressida did today? She closed a multimillion-dollar deal with—well, I can’t remember who with, but what matters is that she closed the deal.”

  Leda concentrated on keeping the annoyance out of her voice. “Is that all you have to say about my entering the competition?” she asked. “That it’s nice?”

  “Well, it is nice. A thousand dollars is a lot of money for people like us.”

  “It’s not about the money,” Leda replied testily. People like us? “You know I’ve never put my work out there to be judged against the work of other fiber artists from around the country. It’s kind of a big deal.”

  Amy picked a string bean from her plate and inspected it closely before taking a bite. “Sure, Mom,” she said. “Did you know that last year Cressida won an award for the biggest growth in the industry? Or something like that. I mean, that’s pretty amazing.”

  Leda took a deep breath. Was it any wonder that jealousy was her strongest motivation for entering her work in the competition? She was seriously disappointed in her daughter for her thoroughly uncritical worship of Cressida Prior. And feeling disappointed with your child was a terrible way to feel.

  “You’ve told us all about Cressida. What’s the father like?” Vera asked. “I’m having trouble imagining the partner to this woman.”

  “It’s funny,” Amy said. “The other nannies were asking about him at The White Hart. Actually, I haven’t seen much of him. He’s nice, but he’s not good for much but watching the kids when Cressida is working.”

  Leda choked on her wine. When she had recovered enough to speak she said, “I hope you don’t voice that opinion anywhere but here. And frankly, I’m surprised you’d make such a harsh judgment only knowing the man for a short time.”

  “I’m only repeating what Cressida said about him,” Amy argued.

  “And since when is taking care of young children something to be dismissed as unimportant?” Leda asked.

  Vera frowned. “This Cressida person really talks about her own husband in such unflattering terms? And to a stranger?”

  “I’m not a stranger.”

  “Well, you’re not a friend, either,” Vera pointed out.

  Before Amy could protest this statement—and she looked as if she was going to do just that—Leda spoke. “Will Prior is your employer. It’s not good policy to bad-mouth your employer, especially when what you’re saying is based on hearsay.”

  “Will isn’t my employer,” Amy said. “Cressida employs me. She explained from the start that I worked for her and not Will.”

  “You’re splitting hairs, my girl,” Vera said.

  “To get back to the competition,” Leda said hurriedly, “I think I’ve decided which of my original tapestries to submit. I’m going to go with Stars Streaming. It’s a good mix of abstract design and identifiable symbols. Hopefully it will speak to judges with a range of tastes.”

  “I love that design!” Vera enthused.

  Leda looked to her daughter. “What do you think about my choice?”

  Amy shook her head. “Sorry, Mom, I wasn’t listening. I was just thinking about something Cressida was saying this afternoon. She told me that to get anywhere in this world you need to take risks, especially if you’re a woman.”

  “And that’s exactly what your mother is doing,” Vera pointed out. “Aren’t you proud of her for taking this step forward in her career?”

  “Sure I am,” Amy said. “But it won’t really be a step forward unless she wins. I mean, success is only proved by winning. Cressida said something like that.”

  Leda sent a warning look across the table to Vera, whose face was a thundercloud of disapproval. “Aren’t you having any chicken?” she asked as neutrally as she could manage, though she could hear the note of anger in her voice.

  Amy made a face. “It’s got the skin on it. Do you know how bad fat is for you? Cressida never eats fat, and when she does it’s the good kind.”

  Leda ignored the contradiction.

  “Peel the skin off,” Vera snapped.

  “Another glass of wine?” Leda asked her friend, whose face was now alarmingly red. And she thought that if Amy said one word about Cressida not drinking alcohol she would probably throw the bottle at the wall.

  Chapter 51

  “How about a cup of tea?”

  Hayley smiled gratefully at Mrs. Latimer. “Yes,” she said. “Please.”

  As Amy’s mother took two ceramic mugs from a shelf and fetched tea bags from a tin canister, Hayley noted again how warm and homey the kitchen felt with its cheery yellow curtains and a big blue pitcher full of wild flowers on the table. The entire house exuded a sense of warmth and safety.

  It was what she wanted. Warmth, safety, stability, beauty. And she might very well get those qualities of life being married to Ethan Whitby. Assuming she ever saw him again. He hadn’t made an appearance since his last brief visit when they had talked about a shared love of history.

  “How’s your mom?” Mrs. Latimer asked, as she brought a small pitcher of milk to the counter.

  “Okay,” Hayley said. “You know.”

  “You’re still not thinking of getting your own place?”

  “No,” Hayley said shortly. “I can’t.”

  The teakettle whistled, and Mrs. Latimer poured the boiling water into the mugs. “By moving out you wouldn’t be abandoning your mother,” she said, replacing the kettle on the stove. “You might actually be forcing her to stand on her own two feet. Certainly, staying on in that house isn’t doing you any good. I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have said that, but I’ve known you a long time and I’ve seen what I’ve seen.”

  “Amy told me about your entering that competition,” Hayley said. Mrs. Latimer would forgive the abrupt change of topic. “I think it’s great.”

  “Amy told you about that? Huh. She didn’t seem very interested when I gave her the news.”

  Of course she hadn’t, Hayley thought. All Amy could think about these days was Cressida Prior. “Marisa Whitby bought one of your pieces at Wainscoting and Windowseats,” she said.

  Leda smiled. “Really? So, do you like working for her?”

  “I do. She’s decent, which is more than you can say about a lot of people.”

  Mrs. Latimer sighed. “Hayley, try not to be so negative.”

  “Sorry,” Hayley said with a bit of a smile.

  “No apology necessary. I’ve got to get back to work. Give my love to your mom.” Mug in hand, Mrs. Latimer left the kitchen.

  “I don’t know how you can drink hot tea in this weather.” Amy appeared in the kitchen, fanning her face with a drugstore flyer, her curly hair pulled back from her face. “Let’s go out back,” she suggested. “It’ll definitely be cooler than it is in here.”

  Amy was right. It was cooler in the yard than it was in the house. Hayley took a seat at the little round table covered with a red-and-white-checked cloth. Amy, still fanning her face, sat across from her. “Cressida never seems to feel the heat,” she said.

  “Hmmm,” Hayley replied. She had not come to talk about Cressida Prior. She had come to see Amy with a purpose. She knew from her own experience that if you told someone
your intention to act, you felt more bound to go through with that act. It was something to do with the power of a witness. And because Hayley couldn’t shake her discomfort with her plan to seduce Ethan Whitby into a proposal of marriage, telling Amy, who no doubt would disapprove mightily, might just force her to defend her decision and thereby boost her courage and determination.

  It was worth a shot, anyway. “I’ve come to an important decision,” she announced.

  “About what?” Suddenly Amy smiled. “Are you going to splurge and get those ankle boots you liked the last time we were in DSW?”

  Hayley refrained from rolling her eyes. “Something a bit more important than shoes. I’m going to get Ethan Whitby to marry me.” The moment she had spoken the words out loud Hayley realized how totally absurd they sounded.

  Amy laughed. “You’re joking, right?”

  “No,” Hayley said. “I’m dead serious.”

  “You can’t really mean it. It’s . . . It’s insane!”

  “I think it’s very sane,” Hayley countered. If unethical, she added silently.

  “Why do you want him to marry you? You hardly even know him! You met him what, once? Twice?”

  “I want to marry him so that I can get away from the life I’ve been leading for the past twenty-one years,” Hayley said. “So that I can finally be free of the—of the degradation.”

  Amy frowned. “Degradation? Isn’t that a bit strong?”

  “No,” Hayley said forcefully. “It’s not.”

  “How are you even going to do it?” Suddenly a look of horror bloomed on Amy’s face. “Wait a minute. You’re not going to get pregnant, are you?”

  “God, no! I’m just going to . . . I’m going to make him like me.”

  Amy gave Hayley a look that shamed her. For the first time in their relationship, Hayley felt herself to be the less sharp minded of the two.

  “You’re going to have to do a lot more than just make him like you,” Amy said. “You’re going to have to make him fall in love with you, or at least think that he has.”

  “How hard could it be?” Hayley replied with a confidence she didn’t at all feel. Maybe telling Amy her intentions hadn’t been such a good idea after all.