The Summer Nanny

by Holly Chamberlin

  “What’s your mother doing now?” Hayley asked. “Is she remarried?”

  “No,” Ethan told her with a smile. “She’s happy being single, at least for the moment. She spends most of her time traveling. She just got back from Hong Kong, and next month she’s off on a cruise to Alaska.”

  And what would her mother do if she divorced Eddie Franklin? Hayley wondered. Nora Franklin wouldn’t have the money to travel as far as Boston, let alone Hong Kong. And if she met another man, Hayley believed the chances were good that he would be cut from the same cloth as Eddie Franklin. Her mother simply didn’t know any better.

  “How often do you see your mother?” Hayley asked.

  Ethan laughed. “Not often. Still, I have a feeling that once I’m married and my wife and I have a child, Grandma will be around a heck of a lot more often.”

  Hayley suddenly wondered if her own mother ever yearned for grandchildren. Strangely, it was a thought that had never occurred to her. “You seem to get along really well with Marisa,” Hayley noted.

  “I do,” Ethan agreed. “It was a bit odd at first, having a stepmother only a few years my senior, but it wasn’t long before I came to know Marisa as a person in her own right.”

  “How did she meet your father?” Hayley asked. Had it been a chance meeting? she wondered. Had it been the result of luck, a force in which Ethan said he might just believe?

  “They met at a conference on contemporary Italian culture,” Ethan told her. “Marisa was one of the speakers, and Dad was in the audience. He’s passionate about Italy. In fact, he’s in the process of buying a villa not far from Florence. Anyway, he went up to Marisa after the session to discuss some point or other, and that was pretty much that. They were married four months later.”

  Hayley smoothed a lock of hair from Lily’s forehead. “So it was a whirlwind romance,” she said. And then she looked over to Ethan to find him looking back at her steadily with those wonderful blue eyes.

  “My father says you know when you know.”

  Before Hayley could react to these words, either in heart or in mind, Ethan’s phone buzzed again, breaking the undeniable connection that had once again leaped to life between them.

  “Sometimes I hate the phone,” Ethan muttered. “It’s work. I’m sorry.” Gently he got up and put Layla securely on the lounge.

  A few moments later Hayley followed him inside the house, girls in tow. Her heart was beating painfully and she felt ever so slightly sick. Ethan was nowhere in sight, and for that she was glad. She needed to think. She badly needed to think. Once the girls were thoroughly dried, changed, and settled on the floor of the den with a few toys, Hayley sank onto the couch near to them and rubbed her forehead.

  Marriage. A sacred union whether or not you believed in a god. Hayley wondered if she had ever truly grasped what a marriage meant until now, this summer, in the company of the Whitby family. Until Ethan had come into her life. But why was that? He was no proselytizer, and she was no naïve acolyte. Could it simply be that her feelings for Ethan—of which sexual attraction was only a part, she knew that now—could it be that those feelings of admiration and respect and—

  “A liddle lam a liddle lam a liddle lam!” Lily cried.

  “Feece as white as snooo!” Layla responded.

  Hayley shook her head. Wool gathering—she cringed at her own pun—was not allowed when two little lives were in your care.

  Chapter 101

  Amy yawned widely. She was alone in the kitchen the morning after the second night spent with the Prior family.

  The experience had been even more strange than the first. The children had been silent at dinner; Amy had wondered if their discomfort was due to her presence or if dinners at the Prior house were always tense, what with Cressida monitoring what everyone ate and Will’s few attempts at conversation shut down with a withering look from his wife. At one point during the meal Jordan had knocked over his glass of water. His eyes had gone wide with horror, and Amy had tensed, sure there was going to be a strong reaction from Cressida, but she had just turned to Will and asked him to wipe up the spill.

  Again, Cressida had stayed up late, requiring Amy to sit with her in the living room while she read. Cressida had finally gone to her room close to midnight. A few hours later Amy thought she heard someone moving around in the house. Carefully she had opened the door of the guest room a mere inch, but it was enough to see that Cressida, wearing a thin white nightgown, was moving through the living room below. The word wraith had popped into Amy’s mind before she had hurriedly closed the door again.

  She hadn’t slept after that, and two cups of strong coffee at seven a.m. had failed to revive her strength or her spirits. She was contemplating a third cup when Will came into the room, dressed in his ubiquitous T-shirt and cargo shorts.

  “Good morning,” he said. “I hope you slept well.”

  Amy returned his greeting but didn’t respond to his comment. Will didn’t need to know that the sight of his wife wandering the darkened house had unnerved her and sent all possibility of sleep running.

  Will set about pouring a bowl of high-fiber cereal, humming while he did so. Amy, deciding against caffeine overload, brought her cup to the dishwasher.

  “What are you two doing in here together?”

  The cup dropped from Amy’s hand onto the dishwasher’s top rack. She whirled around to find Cressida in the doorway, a look of fury on her face, hands clenched at her sides. “Nothing,” Amy said quickly. “I—”

  Cressida took a step into the room. “Don’t make excuses,” she spat. “I told you on your first day of employment you were to come to me for instruction, not Will. And now I find you going behind my back after all I’ve done for you. It’s insubordination. I should—”

  Amy jumped as Will slammed the glass of juice he had been holding on the marble countertop. “Cressida,” he said loudly and firmly. “That’s enough.”

  His tone of voice made Amy flinch. She had never heard him speak in anything but a soft and gentle tone. She shot a glance in his direction. His expression was cold. Amy looked back to Cressida and held her breath.

  “Of course,” Cressida said after a moment. She seemed completely composed. “I’m just off the phone with my director of R and D. There’s a problem he can’t solve. My head was elsewhere. I’ll be in my office.”

  It wasn’t an apology, but it seemed it was all Amy was going to get. Amy waited for Will to say something, but he turned back to preparing his breakfast as if nothing extraordinary had just happened. She wondered if she should thank Will for interfering, but the words simply wouldn’t take form. Quietly, she left the kitchen.

  * * *

  At around one thirty that afternoon Amy was with Cressida in her office. Her stomach was still in knots from the morning’s confrontation. She snuck a look at her watch and willed the afternoon to be over.

  “About earlier,” Cressida said suddenly, looking up from her laptop and across the desk at Amy, who was occupied with sorting through a box of colored rubber bands. Cressida preferred to use only red rubber bands.

  Amy tensed. She should have known the storm hadn’t entirely blown over.

  Cressida shook her head. “I really should fire the head of R and D. I can’t be expected to deal with every little problem that comes up. That’s what he’s getting paid for.”

  “Right,” Amy said. Agreeing with Cressida always seemed the right thing to do. She wondered if Will was going to suffer consequences for standing up to his wife that morning. Another slap across the face? She didn’t want to imagine the scene.

  “I knew you’d understand,” Cressida said briskly. “Here. I have something for you.” Cressida opened a drawer of her desk and with her clawlike hand she began to rummage through the contents. Amy remained rigid in her chair, wondering if she could somehow flee the room and never come back. Finally, Cressida’s hand emerged holding a compact mirror. She thrust it toward Amy, who had no choice but to stand up and
take it. The cover of the compact was made of mother-of-pearl tiles. One tile was missing a corner. “It’s from the 1950s,” Cressida explained. “Not my sort of thing at all, but Jordan gave it to me a few weeks ago—Will took the kids to some dusty, old antique place against my orders—and until a few moments ago I’d forgotten all about it. It’s yours now.”

  Amy mutely stared at the compact in her hand. It wasn’t until she had finally made her escape from the office—Cressida had sent her to fetch the mail—that the full awfulness of what had just happened struck her. Cressida Prior had just tossed away a gift given to her by her own son, a little boy who in spite of his mother’s erratic and sometimes cold behavior nevertheless loved her. Amy came to a halt halfway down the stairs from the second floor. She wanted nothing more than to march right back to the office and tell Cressida Prior that she was wrong to have rejected her son’s gift. But she knew she would do no such thing.

  Amy continued toward the front door, her thoughts troubled. Cressida’s gifts weren’t about the recipient at all. They were payoffs for bad behavior. They were a way for Cressida to get rid of items that no longer served a purpose or that no longer pleased her. They were attempts at buying affection and loyalty. Her gifts were tainted with self-interest.

  Amy retrieved the mail from the floor just inside the door and turned to trudge back up the stairs, but she stopped cold when she saw Will standing a few feet away. “Cressida said you can have the rest of the afternoon off,” he said. His tone was pleasant and low. “I’ll take the mail.”

  “Thanks,” Amy said, holding out the small stack of bills and flyers. As soon as Will had taken the stack, Amy turned and left the house, grateful for the reprieve and wondering if her dismissal had indeed been Cressida’s idea after all. But it didn’t matter. She was free, at least until tomorrow. And she couldn’t wait to see her mother, her wonderful Best Emerging Talent mother.

  Chapter 102

  “I think you’ll like this new design.” Leda placed her most recent sketch on the worktable. “I’ve colored in this end to give you an idea of the palette I have in mind.”

  “Your friend Vera,” Margot said, keeping her eyes on the design.

  Leda swallowed. “What about her?” she asked.

  “Is she single?” Margot’s tone was studiedly casual. “Just that I’ve never heard anyone mention she had anyone special. . . .”

  “Most definitely single,” Leda assured her.

  “Was she ever in a long-term relationship?” Margot asked, still keeping her eyes on the tapestry sketch.

  “What’s your definition of long term?” Leda asked carefully.

  “Over two years.”

  “Then, no,” Leda admitted. And then hurriedly she added, “Not for lack of trying, mind you.”

  Margot finally looked up from Leda’s sketch. “Can I ask you another question? Why have you been asking people about me?”

  Leda grimaced. “You know.”

  “Small towns, big mouths.”

  “I’m really sorry. I was only trying to help bring you and Vera together. If I was assured that you weren’t, um, nutty, I’d feel justified in trying to nudge things along. Assuming, of course, that’s what you want, and I think that maybe you do, inviting us to the poetry reading . . .”

  Margot gave a crooked smile. “And what did you find while you were checking my credentials?”

  “That you’re eminently not nutty,” Leda said firmly. “See, in the past Vera has had rotten luck with women. It’s not as simple as her always choosing the wrong person. Not that she hasn’t made bad choices on occasion. Who among us hasn’t? But even the ones who seemed perfectly normal turned out to be liars or obsessives, or worse, criminals.”

  “Criminals?” Margot’s eyes went wide.

  “Don’t ask,” Leda told her. “If it weren’t so tragic it’d be funny. Let’s just say Vera’s become convinced she’s meant to be alone for the rest of her life. But I don’t think she really wants to be alone, and I know she likes you well enough, so I thought I’d help out a bit, at least get you two talking. Are you angry with me?”

  “Of course not,” Margot said. “I’m flattered you thought I might be a good match for your friend.”

  “Thank you. Vera knows nothing about my sleuthing, of course.”

  “Your secret is safe with me,” Margot assured her. “So, do you think I stand a chance?”

  Leda nodded. “If you can get her to drop the wall she’s put up between herself and romance.”

  “And how do I do that?” Margot asked.

  Leda smiled wanly. “I have absolutely no idea. Persistence?”

  “I can be persistent, but don’t worry, I won’t cross the line to being a stalker.”

  “Good. Vera had a stalker once. It was very frightening.”

  Margot put a hand to her heart. “Oh Lord.”

  “I didn’t mean to scare you away,” Leda said hastily. “Really, Vera is a very normal and down-to-earth person.”

  “If you say so.” Margot cleared her throat. “Now, about this design. Could it be worked in a different palette? Maybe a more neutral one?”

  “Of course,” Leda told her. “Let me grab some colored pencils and we’ll experiment. And I’d like to invite you to a party Phil is giving in celebration of my winning the FAF competition. Vera will be there. It would be a convenient and no-pressure way for you to spend some time together.”

  “Sure,” Margot said. “I’d love to come. It will also be a good way for me to meet more of my new neighbors.”

  Leda selected pencils in taupe and beige, cool gray and soft blue, and began to color in another section of the sketch. “What do you think of these colors?” she asked after a moment.

  “Perfect,” Margot said. “And, um, what about those criminals?”

  “There were only two,” Leda said quickly. “And one was a long time ago. Really, you have nothing to worry about.”

  Margot gave a half smile. “If you say so.”

  Please let me be right, Leda thought. Please!

  Chapter 103

  “Why did I suggest we come downtown today?” Ethan asked, giving Hayley a slightly pained look.

  Hayley laughed. “I have no idea. A desire to play tourist?”

  “I guess that’s it. And I am a tourist, aren’t I?”

  Ethan was pushing Layla’s stroller while Hayley steered Lily’s down the sidewalk. The double stroller was simply too wide for the narrow, tourist-crowded streets of downtown Ogunquit. Still, in spite of the crowds and the snail’s pace at which she and Ethan were forced to move, Hayley was enjoying the little excursion. She was with Ethan. She liked being with him. And at the moment she was not prepared to agonize over this fact.

  Suddenly, through the throng on the sidewalk Hayley spotted a head of dark brown curls that looked awfully familiar. Amy Latimer.

  Amy suddenly waved and made her way toward them. “Hi,” she said, slightly out of breath.

  “Ethan,” Hayley said, “this is my friend Amy. She’s the one working for the Priors this summer.”

  Ethan put out his hand to shake Amy’s. “Nice to meet you,” he said. Then he turned to Hayley. “Is this your friend whose mother made that beautiful tapestry Marisa bought for the Connecticut house?”

  Hayley nodded. “Yes. Leda Latimer. And Marisa commissioned more work from Amy’s mother.”

  Ethan looked back to Amy. “Your mother is really talented.”

  Amy smiled. “Thanks. She just won this big nationwide craft competition for Best Emerging Talent. She was also interviewed for a magazine, and another magazine asked her to write an article for them.”

  Ethan smiled. “You must be proud of her.”

  “I am.” Then Amy looked down at the twins. “Who is who?” she asked.

  Hayley introduced the girls. “Where are your charges?” she asked.

  Amy flushed. “Their father has them today. Cressida is waiting for me back at the house. I just came into town to get
her some things she needed. I guess I should be getting on.”

  “It was nice to meet you,” Ethan told her.

  “You too,” Amy said, and hurried past them as best she could.

  “Have you two known each other long?” Ethan asked as they continued to inch along the sidewalk.

  “Since we were little kids,” Hayley told him. “I don’t remember actually meeting Amy. She’s just always been there. Amy and her mother. Since Amy’s father died, Mrs. Latimer has been on her own. She seems happy, though.”

  “Better to be alone and happy than in a relationship and miserable.”

  “Yes,” Hayley said. That was something she truly believed. And yet . . . a marriage of convenience must be one of the loneliest places ever to find yourself. Who in her right mind . . .

  “How’s Amy holding up working for Cressida Prior?” Ethan asked.

  “According to Amy,” Hayley said, “everything is fine. But I have a feeling the truth is beginning to dawn. At least, I hope it is. Amy is a thoroughly good person, and that can be a liability at times.”

  “Like when you come under the influence of someone not so good,” Ethan suggested.

  “Exactly.” Hayley smiled a bit. “I tend to see the negative or the possibility of the negative before anything else. With Amy, it’s the other way around.”

  “I’m sorry you see the world that way,” Ethan said feelingly. “Why do you think that is?”

  “I don’t know,” Hayley answered with an exaggerated shrug and a laugh. “Just lucky, I guess.”

  “Ice cream!” Lily twisted in her stroller and looked fixedly at Hayley. For the quieter of the twins, she could be surprisingly forceful.

  Layla seconded the demand. Loudly.

  Ethan smiled. “Permission to stop at the ice-cream shop?” he asked.

  “Permission granted,” Hayley told him. “No extras for the girls, but you can have anything you want,” she added, resisting the urge to lay her hand gently on his cheek.

  “Yes, dear,” Ethan said with a laugh.