The Nanny & Her Scrooge

by DeAnna Talcott

  Nicki tried to finish the sentence, then stumbled.

  Jared intervened. “Since mom’s home cooking?” he asked.

  Appearing relieved, Nicki shot him a grateful smile across the table. “Yes. Since that.”

  “Well, now, that’s fine,” Irene unabashedly approved. “Pleased to know I’m in good company. Imagine your mama was a fine woman, to raise a sweet child like you.” She brought the tray down, ignoring Nicki’s flush of embarrassment. “Dessert’s a bit of a surprise. Figured I ought to get started on our Madison’s arrival.” She placed the tray of outrageously decorated sugar cookies in the center of the table. Bells, stars, Christmas trees, candy canes, Santa Clauses and reindeer. They swirled with icing and colored sugars, cinnamon candies, and silver balls.

  Nicki visibly swooned.

  Even Jared smiled.

  “Oh, my…”

  “I haven’t had these in years.”

  The housekeeper made a show of boxing his ears—or at least acting as if she intended to. “Because you haven’t paid a lick of attention to what’s been on your plate, that’s why. No sense wasting my time on someone who’s just going to fork down my good food and then mumble through it.”

  Jared sheepishly reached for a cookie.

  “Kind of nice to have some real conversation in the house tonight,” Irene went on. “I expect, once that child gets here, this will be an everyday occurrence, having everyone sit down to dinner and all.”

  The sugared bell Jared was about to bite into stopped midair. For whom the bell tolls, he thought sagaciously. He straightened, prepared to offer Nicki a significant look, and to put a stop to this fraternizing. “Yes, well…about that…”

  “Children need to have that,” the housekeeper intoned over his shoulder. “No sense eatin’ on the fly. Children need to be around people they trust, people they spend time with, especially at dinner. Mealtime’s the most important part of the day.”

  Jared stared at that damned cookie and closed his mouth. He knew, just knew, that if he said anything now, he’d get a crumb stuck in his throat and choke.

  Huh. He had moments when he wanted to throttle Irene. This was one of them. Her and all her sugar-coated philosophy about how to raise children and be a family.

  His gaze met Nicki’s. Her eyes still on him, she reached over and carefully selected a Santa Claus cookie. When she put it to her lips, he suffered another hitch in his groin. Then, still smiling, she daintily nibbled off the head.

  The significance was not lost on him. So long Santa Claus, hello life.

  Jared immediately felt his chest loosen up and an indescribable feeling of mirth filled him. He wanted to roar, he felt so good. He wanted to eat at this damn table every night and have this confounded woman amuse him, and smile at him, and console him. He wanted to see the way she dabbed at her mouth with her napkin, or gazed at him over the rim of a water glass. He wanted to see if she cut her veal into little tiny pieces, or used catsup on her eggs. It wasn’t right, but that’s the way it was.

  “Nicki,” he said. “It appears my housekeeper has a point. I’ll have to insist on your presence every night at dinner. To oversee Madison, of course.”

  “Humph! ’Bout time,” the housekeeper uttered before she waddled back into the kitchen.

  Chapter Seven

  The entire household revolved around Madison’s imminent arrival. Jared worked longer hours at the store, so that he could personally pick her up at the airport. Dividing her time between her condo and his home, Nicki diligently put both their lives in order.

  There had been moments when Nicki feared she wasn’t doing things to Jared’s satisfaction, yet when she asked him about it, he brushed it off, saying everything was “fine.” She began to detest that word. Apparently the strong, silent type threw that word around a lot, without any real enthusiasm or conviction.

  Still, since he wasn’t being critical, she went ahead and kept on doing what she was doing, telling herself that nothing could be better than seeing Christmas through the eyes of a child. This would be her home for Christmas, and she intended to enjoy it, to celebrate and share in the warmth of people who loved each other.

  She’d persuaded Jared to let her set up a real tree in the family room, next to the fireplace. At first he’d argued the spindly, artificial one she’d unearthed in the basement was good enough for a couple of weeks. But she’d convinced him the scent of pine would be good for their souls, the real pine needles longing for a child’s handcrafted ornaments. He’d caved in, saying, “Fine, do it if you have to.”

  For the mantel, Nicki purchased inexpensive stockings to decorate with glitter and braid. When she’d shown them to Jared, he’d again said, “Fine,” then reminded her if she really thought they needed stockings, she could have gotten something in Gillette’s and saved herself the trouble. Not as much fun, she admonished, not when children love to glue and paste and make something from nothing.

  It was then he ultimately uttered the final, “Fine, do whatever you want.”

  And she had.

  After she finished Madison’s room, she totally immersed herself in Christmas preparations. There were childish holiday tunes on the CD player, and classic movies stacked next to the DVD player. Peppermint candies were in the candy dishes and eggnog waited in the refrigerator. An animated Santa Claus was installed in the foyer, to belt out a merry “Ho, ho, ho” to every passing visitor. Three red sleds found a home in the garage—in case Winter Park received a dusting of snow.

  Christmas, Nicki decided happily, was the best possible time for a reunion—and she intended to make this reunion between father and daughter poignant. Doing things for them, anticipating their joy and happiness, took the edge off of her own sorrow and loneliness.

  Sometimes as she worked she thought about her own father, and wondered if he ever missed her, or ever regretted walking out. Her mother once said he’d gone to Alaska to work on the pipeline and had remarried, so she knew she’d never see him again. He’d never sent her so much as a birthday card. Of course, he’d never sent her mother so much as five dollars for groceries, either.

  Funny, there was a world of difference between her father and Jared. It helped to know that even though some men like Jared didn’t show it, they did care.

  Jared had been silent, almost gruff, about the emotional backlash of her move and closing up the condo. He had effectively skirted all mention of her mother. He never asked why her father had left. She’d stoically told herself that it was because he didn’t know what to say, because while he was getting his daughter back, Nicki had to go it alone. She yearned to talk to him, but there were times he seemed so forbidding.

  There was too much on his mind. The store, the joint custody, the fact his ex-wife was getting married again. Any of those issues would be enough to make a person irritable.

  Yet, even as the tension between them escalated as Madison’s visit became imminent, Jared tempered it with inexplicable bouts of kindness.

  The man was an enigma, no doubt about that. If he saw her struggling with boxes, he took them from her. If he caught her singing along with the CD player, he smiled indulgently, as if he supposed he could endure it. Yet, unless something was wrong, unless he had something specific to share with her, he never sought her out.

  Sometimes she paused to look at him, head bent, while he worked, his briefcase open beside him, the lamp tossing sparks over his blue-black hair, and she thought he was the most handsome man she’d ever seen. Looking at him, when he wasn’t looking back, put the strangest little butterfly sensations through her middle.

  The way he spoke made her listen more intently. It was so fascinating to watch the play of his mouth, the way his perfect white smile would fade in and out. She’d lie awake at night and try to memorize the honeyed timbre of his voice, the cadence of his words. She repeated their conversations in her head, often drifting off to sleep with the sounds of his voice nuzzling her ear. And then she’d be reminded of the time he�
�d kissed her….

  The first morning she awoke in his home, she’d lain awake and stared at the ceiling, thinking to herself that this was “his” bed she was sleeping in, “his” sheets she was sleeping on, “his” feather pillow she laid her head on. The realization had given her goose bumps, and she’d foolishly stroked the percale sheets and savored the scent, the texture, of them.

  Everything she did brought her closer to Jared—and, for better or worse, he was always in the back of her mind.

  The car pulled into the driveway at 2:22 p.m. Both the housekeeper and Nicki jockeyed for a better vantage point at the kitchen window. Jared got out first, his face weary. He went to the trunk and pulled out Madison’s suitcase.

  Madison, her long blond hair flying, skipped around the front of the car. She wore sandals, with socks, a pair of raggedy jeans and a baggy sweatshirt. She paused to kick at a stone in the driveway, then said something to Jared. He leaned down, resting his hand on her shoulder.

  Nicki grinned. Madison appeared alert, animated, and very much the typical child.

  The housekeeper pushed away from the windowsill and muttered, “From pillar to post, that’s what I say. Now, we’ll find out how much that high-and-mighty Miss Sandra cared about that young ’un.”

  Before Nicki could reply, the back door slammed against the wall.

  “Madison,” came Jared’s mild reproof, “not so hard, please.”

  They came in together, Madison at Jared’s side. She unabashedly looked the kitchen over, her eyes fastening on the cookie jar.

  “Madison, you probably don’t remember the housekeeper,” Jared prompted. “But she remembers you. This is Irene. She made your baby food, and took you for rides in the stroller.”

  Madison bestowed a halfhearted look to the housekeeper. “Oh. Hi.”

  The housekeeper’s smile widened and, over her broad girth, she bent to chuck Madison under the chin. “We’re mighty glad to have you back, Madison.”

  Madison pulled back, and wrinkled her nose distastefully.

  “And you haven’t met Nicki,” Jared went on. “She’s a friend of mine, and she’s staying here. She’s going to spend a lot of time with you, to help you get settled, and all.”

  “Hello, Madison,” Nicki greeted, extending her hand. Madison shook it, and Nicki noticed four cheap gumball rings had turned her fingers green. She vaguely wondered if gangrene could set in. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you,” she said. “I know we’re going to have a lot of fun together.”

  “Okay. Sure,” Madison said, dismissing Nicki as her eyes flitted to the refrigerator. “You got anything to drink around this place?”

  If Nicki was startled by the abrupt, poorly phrased question, she refused to show it. She stepped up, knowing it was her job to see to Madison’s needs. “It’s been a long trip, huh? What would you like? We’ve got lemonade, juice, chocolate milk, and even some eggnog.”

  “What’s eggnog?”

  Pleased to be able to introduce the child to her first Christmas treat, Nicki couldn’t beat back a smile. “It’s a special Christmas drink. From milk and egg and nutmeg. I’ve been told it’s Santa’s favorite drink,” she confided. “He always has a cup before he takes off in his sleigh on Christmas Eve.”

  “No kiddin’?” Madison said, intrigued, her brow furrowing. “Well, I’ll take some of that.”

  The housekeeper handed Nicki a glass, and Nicki did the honors, pouring it half full. She started to bring it to the table, where Jared had her seated.

  “I want a straw,” Madison demanded.

  Nicki stopped. “Oh. Okay…” She caught the housekeeper’s eye, half afraid there wouldn’t be a straw to be found in a three-mile radius.

  “Right here,” the housekeeper said, pulling a straw out of a nearby cupboard and dropping it into the glass.

  Nicki placed it before Madison like a peace offering.

  “Looks like a milkshake,” she said happily, experimentally stirring the eggnog with the straw.

  Three doting adults stood over the child as she took her first sip. She took a long noisy pull at the straw, then her head jerked back and she gagged. “This stuff sucks!” she said, spitting, and wiping her mouth with her sleeve. “What’re you tryin’ to do, poison me?”

  All three adults scrambled to make things right.

  “Here, don’t spit it out,” Jared said, whisking the glass away.

  Nicki quickly offered Madison a napkin, then blotted at her sleeve with another. While she rubbed away the offending eggnog, she took note of the child’s sweatshirt. Ketchup, mustard and chocolate were just a few of the identifiable stains. Grime was ground into the ribbing at the neck and sleeves, and the fleece was comfortably rumpled, as if Madison had slept in it. This close, her hair looked more tangled than curled, and there was actually dirt under her fingernails.

  No wonder Jared looked distressed. His only child definitely looked the worse for wear, and just a notch short of neglected.

  The housekeeper wiped at the table with a damp dishrag. “Let’s get you something else,” she suggested.

  “No, I’ve had enough of that junk,” Madison said, sliding down from the chair.

  “Nicki can show you your room,” Jared said in dismissal, “and I’ll be up in a few minutes with your suitcase.”

  “Come on, Madison,” Nicki invited, heading to the door.

  Madison’s eyes narrowed, her look—from Jared to Nicki—calculating. “Are you trying to get rid of me?” she asked.

  Surprise rippled through Nicki. “No. Not at all. We thought you’d like to see your new bed. I found some brand-new puzzles and some books and—”

  “Whatever,” she replied.

  They trooped up the stairs and, to Nicki’s disappointment, Madison didn’t even give the Santa Claus in the foyer a second look.

  When they reached the landing, Madison paused. “I don’t remember this house. My mom and I left a long time ago. I think it looks like a hotel, because there are so many rooms, and all the doors are closed.”

  Nicki smiled. “Yes, I guess it does resemble a hotel. Your room is the last one down there, on this side, across from your daddy’s.”

  Madison peered down the long, dark corridor. “Is that woman downstairs going to bring us food whenever we want it? Like room service?”

  Nicki couldn’t help but laugh. “How do you know about room service?”

  “My mom uses it all the time. She don’t like to cook.”

  Ah, the lifestyles of the rich and famous, Nicki thought to herself. “No. Irene won’t bring you food. We eat together, down in the dining room.”

  “Bummer,” Madison complained, walking away.

  Saying nothing more, Nicki laid her hand on Madison’s shoulder, to steer her to the right door; Madison stiffened and pulled away. “I’ll find it,” she said crossly.

  Nicki walked behind her, as niggling thoughts that this was not going well burrowed into her mind.

  Madison suddenly bolted and ran down the hall. She threw open the door, then stopped on the threshold. “Wow,” she exclaimed. “Is all this stuff mine?”

  “You’re the only little girl who lives here,” Nicki said, coming up behind her.

  Madison moved into the center of the room, spinning, and looking directly up at the ceiling. Then she hopped dizzily on one foot, making it all the way over to the child’s play table, bumping into it and upsetting the puzzle Nicki had carefully arranged. The pieces scattered; Madison looked at Nicki and laughed. She walked over some pieces and kicked others out of her way.

  Nicki determined to not say anything, not yet. Teach by example, she thought, bending to pick some of the pieces up and put them back.

  “Hey! Look at this,” Madison said, pausing long enough to study the two cherub prints Nicki had hung at Madison’s eye level. Nicki had learned quite by accident they were Jared’s favorites.

  “Your daddy picked them out just for you.”

  Madison looked at her rather
strangely, then turned away, to the shelves where construction paper, paste, and blunt-edged scissors were arranged in tubs on the bookshelves. “Hey, you want to see something funny? You got any crayons?”

  Relieved, Nicki fumbled to find the crayons as quickly as possible. Either Madison was hyperactive or had a short attention span. Maybe she was overly tired and overly stimulated. Drawing would help calm her.

  “Here. How about these? You know…” she said, turning back to finish picking up the puzzle pieces before she grabbed some paper, “I love to draw. That’s something we can do together.” She picked up a few sheets of paper, then added a few colored pieces to the mix. Madison had her back to her, apparently still interested in the framed prints next to the table. “Madison?” she queried, folding her legs beneath her to slip into the child-size chair. “Don’t you want to join me?”

  Madison swung back, pivoting on her heel. “Look!” she demanded. “Look what I did!”

  “What, sweetie?” Nicki followed Madison’s impatient gesture, and her face drained of color. The expensive prints. The darling little cherubs, so carefully chosen, now looked like sideshow oddities, with handlebar moustaches and long, flowing goatees. Black crayon slashes ruined the prints, and Madison was definitely proud of her handiwork. Nicki’s stomach turned over.

  Madison giggled loudly. “Gotcha!” she said.

  “Madison…I—w-we picked out those prints just for you. I don’t think we can get crayon marks off…and your daddy will—”

  “So?”

  The horror of the situation struck her. “Why would you want to do something like that?”

  “It was just a joke. Don’t you get it? A joke. They look funny now. I like them better this way.”

  Frustration made Nicki’s nerve endings tingle and her shoulders constrict. This was not what she bargained for. What Jared’s daughter needed was either firm guidance or a good spanking. Of course, the spanking part wasn’t endorsed anymore and disciplining someone else’s child would be tricky.

  At the rate they were going, Madison would spend a lot of hours in the time-out corner.