The Summer Nanny

by Holly Chamberlin

  “That’s an awfully positive spin!” Elizabeth exclaimed. “No, the story is all about having a man rescue you when you should be rescuing yourself.”

  “Not every woman has the resources to rescue herself,” Hayley pointed out mildly. “What’s so wrong with asking for help when you need it? Anyway, Cinderella didn’t ask for the Prince to be in love with her. It just happened.” But she hadn’t lied to him, Hayley thought. And that made a difference.

  “But did she really love him, or was she just using him?” Elizabeth pressed. “Was she really so good and pure, or was she just a grasping whore?”

  “Women shouldn’t use the word whore or tramp when talking about other women,” Amy said firmly. “It makes us as bad as misogynists.”

  Madeleine nodded. “I agree. Did you know that in the French version of the story by Perrault, Cinderella forgives her wicked stepsisters and lets them marry noblemen? But in the German version by the Grimm brothers, the magic birds that protect Cinderella throughout the story peck out the eyes of her evil stepsisters at her wedding.”

  Suddenly the image of her own eyes being pecked out for bad behavior by birds, magic or otherwise, caused Hayley to stand abruptly. “I’m off,” she said. “I’ve got to run an errand on my way home.”

  Cathi looked at her quizzically. “At this time of night?”

  “Hannaford is still open,” Hayley said. “My mom needs some aspirin.” Her mother needed no such thing, but Hayley felt that if she didn’t get out of the pub as soon as possible she would do something stupid like scream. She waved to the group and hurried off.

  Hayley walked to her car, her mind buzzing. She was proud of her good reputation and had always fought to distinguish herself from her father and brother, people who routinely stooped to lying and cheating. What would the residents of Yorktide think of her if she were to marry someone like Ethan Whitby? Some might think her lucky, but others would suspect her of low intentions. Even if Ethan truly loved her and she truly loved him, there would always be those who assumed she had married him for his money alone. But what was she thinking? A marriage of mutual love between her and Ethan could never be the case.

  Never.

  Chapter 64

  “It’s cool we can see the fireworks from here, isn’t it? I don’t know why Mom and Vera had to go down to the beach and deal with the crowds when they could have stayed right here in the backyard. I mean, I used to like going to the beach to see the fireworks but not now.”

  Amy’s words had fallen on deaf ears. Hayley, sitting across from her at the little table in the backyard, seemed lost in thought. She was probably thinking about Ethan Whitby. Amy suspected her friend had left the pub so abruptly the other night because the conversation had come too close to home. Poor Hayley.

  Amy took a sip of her water with lemon slices. Cressida sometimes drank water with lemon slices. She said it was cleansing, and maybe water with lemon slices had something to do with Cressida’s having been in such a good mood all day. She had praised Amy’s punctuality and complimented her outfit, both of which had sort of made up for Amy’s missing the Independence Day celebrations. And Cressida’s encouragement had prompted Amy to tell Hayley about the offer of a job at Prior Ascendancy. Not that Amy expected Hayley to be thrilled, but she had to tell someone her secret or bust.

  “Hayley?” Amy said. “Are you paying attention? I have something big to share with you.”

  “What is it?” Hayley asked, with not very much interest, Amy thought.

  Amy outlined Cressida’s offer, from the promise of her own suite of rooms to a new wardrobe, from the title of right-hand woman to . . . well, that was about all there was to tell at the moment. “So, what do you think?” she asked when she had finished.

  “I think it’s a lousy idea,” Hayley said sharply. “And you won’t be able to wear your new fur hat in a southern climate.”

  Amy frowned. There had been no need for Hayley to mention the hat. “Well, I think it’s a great idea,” she countered.

  “What exactly is so great about it?” Hayley asked. “And why do you have to live at her house? Why can’t you have your own place? If you live with the Priors you’ll have no privacy. You’ll always be at their beck and call. Is that what you want?”

  “No,” Amy said automatically. “I don’t know. Anyway, I’m sure I’d have time to myself.”

  “And what about those friends you promised to share an apartment with?” Hayley asked. “If you back out they’ll have to find another roommate, and that’s not always easy.”

  “They’ll be fine,” Amy said. “Stella’s father owns the building. I’m sure he’ll cover my rent until they find someone to take my place.” And then she sighed. “I shouldn’t have told you about the offer. I knew you’d be totally against it.”

  “Sorry,” Hayley said. “Look, if you’re determined to go through with this, forget about a handshake being good enough to seal a deal. Ask for a contract detailing exactly what being a right-hand woman involves and what sort of compensation you can expect. Sick days. Vacation days. Health insurance. Have a lawyer read the contract,” Hayley went on, “make up a list of changes you want made, and then sit down to negotiate the deal that works for you. Better yet, let the lawyer do the negotiating.”

  “I can’t ask Cressida for a contract,” Amy protested. “She’d think I didn’t trust her.”

  Hayley laughed. “You shouldn’t trust her. You shouldn’t trust anyone you’ve known for only a few weeks, let alone go off to live with them. Wake up, Amy. You can’t really be that naïve.”

  “I’m not naïve,” Amy argued. “Maybe I’m just taking a leap of faith. Isn’t that how you move ahead with your life, by taking chances?” It’s what Cressida has told me over and over again, Amy thought. Don’t be afraid to take risks. Women especially need to take risks in order to succeed.

  “Okay,” Hayley said. “Let’s say you take this leap of faith. Do you really want to move so far away from your mom? You guys are joined at the hip, at least you were until Cressida Prior came along.”

  Amy hadn’t really given much thought to this. Atlanta was pretty far away from Yorktide, not like Boston.

  “And don’t forget that Cressida is offering you a job,” Hayley went on, “not a life.”

  Suddenly Amy felt angry. “I wish you wouldn’t always be so—” “So what?” Hayley asked sharply. “I’m only looking out for your best interests.”

  “I can look out for my own best interests, thank you very much.” Amy was sure that she could. Almost entirely sure. “So, what’s going on with Ethan?” she asked, feeling a bit mean-spirited. “Any progress? You ran out of the pub pretty quickly last night when the subject of marrying for money came up.”

  “I did not run anywhere,” Hayley protested. “And things are going fine.”

  “Just fine?” Amy pressed.

  Hayley stood and reached for her bag. “I promised my mother I’d be home before nine. She wants me to watch some reality show with her. See you around.”

  When Hayley had gone, Amy remained at the little table. Hayley’s comments had made her feel uncomfortable and unsure. The prospect of a life in Atlanta didn’t seem as wonderful as it had only a few minutes earlier. Why did Hayley—why did everyone!—have to be so negative about anything having to do with Cressida Prior? Okay, she could be difficult and she didn’t hold with celebrating holidays, but . . .

  As abruptly as Hayley had stood up and left for home, Amy stood up and stomped into the house. There was a box of cookies in the cupboard. One stupid cookie wouldn’t be breaking her diet. Besides, it was a holiday and everyone had the right to celebrate. Didn’t they?

  Chapter 65

  The breakfast crowd at Over Easy had mostly gone when Vera joined Leda and Phil at Leda’s usual table, a large cup of coffee in hand.

  “So, why did you want to see us?” Phil asked.

  “I want to show you guys something,” Leda told her friends. “Well, I don’t actual
ly want to show it to anyone. In fact, I wish I had never seen it, but it’s too late now.”

  “What are you talking about?” Phil asked.

  Leda sighed. “Well, I was visiting the website of the Journal of Craftwork this morning when I saw a comment someone made about my work. See, the Journal ran a notice that I would be featured in next month’s issue.”

  “What did this person say?” Vera asked.

  “Here.” Leda reached into her pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. She handed it to Phil. “Read it for yourself.”

  Phil cleared his throat and read the note aloud.

  “I checked out this woman’s website. Why did you feature her work? It’s awful. My three-year-old could do better. I took a class a few years ago in knitting so I should know. She should give up.”

  “Garbage,” he said, passing the paper to Vera. “And why in God’s name did the editors leave this comment up on the site?”

  Instead of returning the printed page to Leda, Vera tore it in half and in half again. “Ignorance,” she said. “There’s nothing that makes my blood boil like a bold display of ignorance. This woman clearly has no idea of the time and effort it takes to create a piece of art. One knitting class and she’s an expert on the creative process?”

  Leda shook her head. “I don’t know,” she said, and she could hear the plaintive note in her voice. “Maybe I’m in over my head. Maybe I should withdraw from the competition.”

  “No,” Phil said firmly, “absolutely not. Leda, if you’re going to offer your work to the world you have to learn how to accept constructive criticism and to ignore abusive comments. This was an abusive comment, and what you do with those is throw them away.”

  “There will always be haters,” Vera pointed out. “There will always be people who feel the need to attack and demean, and the Internet has made those people more powerful than ever. And don’t get me started on poor spelling and grammar! The angrier the rant, the worse the presentation.”

  Leda considered her friends’ words. Of course they were right, but that didn’t mean their advice was easy to follow. “Do you think I should respond to this person?” she asked.

  “And say what?” Vera asked. “Thanks for being an idiot and ruining my day? No. The only way to deal with haters without losing your mind is to ignore them.”

  Phil nodded. “Vera is right. Try to imagine for a moment how unhappy and negative a person must be to take the time to attack someone she doesn’t even know. I feel sorry for haters. I’d bet the person they hate more than anyone is themselves.”

  “You’re probably right,” Leda admitted. “And I don’t want to think of how Amy would judge me if I quit now. I’m sure the great Cressida Prior has never backed away from a challenge or let an uninformed critic get her down.”

  “If that’s the truth, then she’s not human,” Vera said. “And if she claims that’s the truth, then she’s lying.”

  Phil reached across the table and took Leda’s hand in his. “You’ll be fine,” he said reassuringly. “By lunchtime you’ll have forgotten all about this little incident.”

  Leda smiled ruefully. “By lunchtime?”

  “Okay, then, by dinner. Seriously, Leda, put it out of your mind.”

  Before Leda could promise Phil that she would try, the bell over the door tinkled. Leda turned to see who was coming in.

  “Margot,” she said with a smile and a wave. “Come and join us.”

  Vera stood abruptly. “I hear Bud calling me,” she said, and scurried off to the kitchen.

  “It couldn’t have been something I said,” Margot noted, taking a seat at the table and nodding in the direction in which Vera had hurried off.

  “Crisis in the kitchen,” Leda said hurriedly.

  “The chef can be testy,” Phil added.

  Margot smiled, but Leda was pretty certain that she hadn’t believed the reason for Vera’s taking off. “I was in the mood for an omelet,” she said. “I hear the omelets here are the best in town.”

  “They are indeed,” Phil assured her. “And the coffee’s not bad, either.”

  “I really enjoyed your friend’s poetry reading,” Leda said. “I bought a copy of her book.”

  Margot smiled. “I’m so glad. And I’m sure Connie is, too. I’m sorry I didn’t get to chat with you. No one expected such a good turnout.”

  “I’m sorry Vera couldn’t make it,” Leda said, and immediately wanted to kick herself. It wasn’t her place to make Vera’s apologies.

  “Did she say why?” Margot’s tone was casual, but she didn’t look up from the table.

  “She said something about a business meeting,” Leda lied. In fact, when Leda had asked Vera if she planned on attending the reading, her answer had been a flat no.

  Margot looked up and smiled. “Of course,” she said. “Business always comes first.”

  “But only after food,” Phil said heartily. “May I recommend the Western?”

  Chapter 66

  “Remind me why I’m here at this ridiculous hour?” Amy asked, rubbing her eyes with her fingertips.

  Hayley swallowed before replying. “Because I asked you if you wanted to meet for breakfast and you said yes.”

  “Why did I say yes? I hate mornings.”

  Hayley shrugged. In truth, she wasn’t quite sure why she had asked Amy to meet that morning. Lately their conversations seemed to degenerate into cantankerous arguments. Hayley disliked Cressida Prior and the way she treated Amy, and Amy disapproved of Hayley’s idea of getting Ethan Whitby to marry her as a way out of near poverty. Frankly, Hayley didn’t see a way to resolve either issue without more argument.

  “That’s an awfully big breakfast,” Amy noted. “Pancakes and sausage?”

  “Have you ever spent the morning running after two active toddlers? I need all the fuel I can get.” Hayley eyed Amy’s half a grapefruit. “And just because you’re starving yourself doesn’t mean the rest of us have to.”

  “I’m not starving myself,” Amy said petulantly. “I’m just not very hungry. Look, I’m sorry I was so bitchy about your leaving the pub early the other night. It’s just that I still don’t think setting out to trap Ethan Whitby into a marriage is the right thing to do.”

  “Keep your voice down,” Hayley said with a quick glance over her shoulder. “And don’t use the word trap.”

  “What word should I use?” Amy asked.

  “My plan to leave behind this life I’ve been living and to make a brighter future for myself and my mother.”

  Amy sighed. “Then rely on yourself and not on a man. You’re smart, Hayley. I wish I was half as smart as you are. Why don’t you just use your brain!”

  “You need more than a brain to succeed in life,” Hayley replied, putting her fork and knife on her empty plate. “You need luck, which is something I never seem to have.”

  “Cressida didn’t need a rich husband to succeed. She did everything all on her own.”

  “Really?” Hayley said. “Didn’t you tell me Cressida is from a wealthy family who sent her to an Ivy League school? I don’t have that leg up, Amy. I couldn’t even finish my degree from a freakin’ community college because my mother needed the money I’d saved to pay six months of back rent. Six months! How we weren’t thrown out of the place I don’t know. The landlord is a saint. Not like the last landlord we had, who did throw us out, not that I could blame him after my idiot father broke almost every window in the apartment.”

  Amy pushed aside her plate. “I don’t care what people say. Money doesn’t buy happiness. It just doesn’t.”

  “Maybe not,” Hayley said, “but it pays the mortgage and buys the groceries and gets you good medical care, all of which seems like stuff that would make any normal person happy.”

  “Okay, maybe that’s true, but money can’t buy love.”

  Hayley laughed. “Who said anything about love? I’m not expecting love.”

  “Well you should expect love,” Amy argued. “Everyone shou
ld.”

  “Amy, you are such an innocent!”

  “Be that as it may, has Ethan made a pass at you yet?”

  Hayley took a final sip of her coffee before answering. “No,” she admitted. “Honestly, I don’t think he even sees me as a woman.”

  “Maybe he’s gay,” Amy suggested.

  “No. He’s not gay. And I’m pretty sure he doesn’t have a girlfriend, though I do know he wants to be married one day. Anyway, I’ve been charming and—”

  “What?” Amy laughed. “Hayley, you’re a lot of good things, but charming isn’t one of them.”

  Hayley frowned. “I can be charming.”

  “You’re too prickly and suspicious to be charming. Remember the time you accused that poor old man at The Razor Clam of trying to grope you and all he was doing was swatting away a wasp that had landed on your shoulder?”

  “How was I supposed to know he was trying to do me a favor?”

  Amy sighed. “Look, I might not like what you’re doing, but you’re my best friend and I’ll always support you. You know that, right?”

  “Yeah,” Hayley said. “I do. Thanks.”

  The girls left the diner shortly after and went on to their respective jobs, Amy yawning as she got behind the wheel of her car and Hayley resisting the impulse to scold Amy once again for not having eaten a proper breakfast.

  Hayley arrived at the Whitbys’ house fifteen minutes later to find Marisa in the twins’ room, preparing them for a bath.

  “It’s just us girls today,” Marisa said as Hayley fetched clean towels from a tall chest of linens. “Jon and Ethan were going to drive up last night, but there was some issue that kept them at the office.”

  “Oh,” Hayley said. “I mean, I hope it gets settled. The issue.”

  She was surprised at the depth of her disappointment. It wasn’t lost on her that if she considered Ethan a mere instrument that might help her achieve a goal and not an individual worthy of real affection, she might not feel so let down. It was all that ridiculous talk about everyone deserving love. Amy was so naïve.