by Inara Scott
“Because I need a nanny. For three kids. Eleven, eight, and six.”
Her? Take care of children? Three of them?
Kelsey’s mouth fell open. “You’ve got to be kidding me. I do your website, Marie, not take care of kids. You’ve clearly mistaken me for someone without baby-induced nausea.”
“They aren’t babies,” Marie pointed out. “These kids are old enough to be pretty self-sufficient. You just need to pack some lunches, take them to the park, and call the ambulance if anyone breaks an arm.”
Kelsey snorted, while her brain spun in a desperate attempt to think up a reasonable excuse. “Is that what you put on the brochure? At Gentle Hands, our nannies can call the ambulance if your child breaks something?”
Marie hoisted the baby on her shoulder and began to move around the kitchen, cleaning up bottles and wiping down counters. “Don’t sell yourself short—you’re not completely inexperienced. You were a camp counselor, remember?”
“That was sixteen years ago, and they fired me because I took the kids up a trail that was closed to hikers. In my defense, I will say that the sign was very small, and really, they hadn’t seen any bears for a couple of weeks.”
Marie’s face lost a hint of color and Kelsey gave a silent victory cheer. Still, it was a measure of how anxious her friend must have been that Marie cleared her throat and continued, “You were young. I’d never put a thirteen-year-old in charge of a cabin full of kids. Besides, you’re practically a doctor, and—other than your pathological need to climb excessively large mountains—one of the most responsible people I know. My clients would love that.”
Kelsey perched on a stool beside the kitchen island, trying to maintain her resolve in the face of Marie’s obvious desperation. “I’m an EMT, not a doctor, and I’m not pathological.”
Marie nodded solemnly. “Fine. You’re not a doctor. And you’re only marginally pathological. But you are good to have around in an emergency.”
Realizing she was unlikely to resist her irreverent friend, Kelsey slumped back with resignation. “So back to the kids—what’s their story?”
“I think they’ll be pretty easy, other than maybe being a little homesick.” Marie sorted through a pile of mail ten inches high. “Mom and the kids moved to Denver a couple of weeks ago because she got a new job working for a software company. She needs someone full-time over the summer, and then after school in the fall.”
“I’m leaving town in a month,” Kelsey reminded her.
“I only need you for a day or two, until Hope gets clearance to go back to work. She met the kids last week and it seemed like a great fit, especially since she’s planning to go back to school this fall and could keep the job on a part-time basis. I’d send in one of my usual temps to cover for her but everyone’s sick. I’ve gone through all my backups and no one is available on this short notice. I’m desperate.”
While her internal voice warned of dire consequences for any children unfortunate enough to fall under her care, Kelsey tried to project a note of calm logic. “What did the mom say? Maybe she can take a couple of days off work until Hope’s better.”
Marie shook her head. “I called Jenna this morning but she didn’t pick up. But I know she’ll love you. Oh—and I put a note in the file that shows you’ve passed the criminal background check and have a clean driving record.”
Kelsey clucked her tongue. “How do you know that?”
The tips of Marie’s cheeks turned a delicate pink. “I ran a check this morning. I figured you wouldn’t mind. Besides, I’ve been driving with you for years. You’re slower than my grandmother.”
“I’m not slow, I’m cautious,” she protested.
Marie giggled. “I know. It’s hilarious. You go on some crazy expedition in South America and then come back and drive fifty-five on the highway.”
Kelsey sniffed. “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”
“You should. It’s one of the many things I love about you.”
“What about the dad?” she asked, feeling her ability to object slipping away.
“They’re divorced. I think he’s moving out here in a month or so, but Jenna didn’t tell me much about him.” Marie grabbed a manila folder from the counter. “Here. All you have to do is drive over, introduce yourself to Jenna, explain the situation, and have her call me if she has any questions.”
Kelsey held up her hands and backed away, refusing to take the envelope. “You assumed I’d say yes.”
Marie held out her hands in a gesture of helplessness. “You’re my best friend. If I can’t count on you, who can I count on?”
Refusing to meet her friend’s puppy-dog eyes, Kelsey scowled down at a pot that bore the remnants of blackened spaghetti sauce. “I seriously know nothing about taking care of kids. I’d have to feed them and—well, what else do you even do with kids their age?” She tried to imagine herself entertaining a trio of kids, but all that came to mind was a skinny thirteen-year-old leading a group of campers into a bear-infested forest. Her skin crawled with tension. “I’m better cooking on a camp stove than a real one, and I don’t know the first thing about TV shows or video games.”
Marie smiled. “But that’s good. You’ll take them outside and play games.”
“Right, then they’ll probably put a frog in my pocket and set a pointy pinecone on my chair.”
“Honey, this is not World War II Austria, and you are definitely not Julie Andrews.”
Kelsey sailed on, ignoring her friend’s protests, determined to take one last shot at avoiding what would doubtless be a complete and total disaster. “Well, my repertoire of kid games is limited to Duck, Duck, Goose and Red Rover, which I’m pretty sure are both illegal now because of liability issues. And heaven forbid they need someone to do laundry. I don’t even buy white things because they end up pink. Basically, I haven’t the slightest idea how normal families function.”
Marie shifted Oscar to her other shoulder. She walked around and thrust the envelope into Kelsey’s unguarded hand, then gave her a gentle smile. “Maybe it’s time you learned.”
Chapter Three
Ross stood in front of the large office window, cell phone to his ear, taking in the incredible view of distant mountain peaks cutting a jagged line across the cloudless sky. He’d only been in Colorado for twelve hours, and still hadn’t adjusted to looking out a window and seeing mountains instead of skyscrapers, or feeling an endless canopy of blue sky stretching over him instead of buildings looming all around.
He waited for his sister Melissa’s answering machine to pick up before he started speaking. “Hey, ’Lis, it’s Ross. Hope little Lizzie slept well last night. I’m just calling to say that I arrived in Denver and the kids are fine. Jenna got off to China this morning without a hitch. If you see Mom this morning can you tell her I called? I’ll call back later this week.”
As he hung up, it occurred to him that it was almost eleven on the East Coast, and his niece Lizzie, who had been born a scant six weeks before, was probably going down for her midmorning nap. It would be hard to remember that he now had two time zones between him and the rest of his family.
Add it to the list of things to adjust to…
Feeling at home in Denver would take time, he knew. After all, it had only been three days ago that Jenna had phoned him, panicked and teary because she’d been asked to fly to China to deal with an unhappy client who couldn’t get their software to work. Tying up his affairs so he could fly out two days later had been intense, to say the least. But what alternative had he had? They had talked about sending the kids back to New York for the month, but Ross hadn’t liked the idea. The move to Denver had been hard enough as it was; he refused to put the kids through it twice.
His phone dinged a moment later. It was an e-mail from his brother Brit.
How’s the Mile High City? You know you’ve got to get a babysitter when you hit the bars tonight, right?
Ross rolled his eyes. He hated typing on the tiny ph
one screen, so he sat down at Jenna’s desk and turned on her desktop computer. After clicking through to his e-mail account, he typed a quick response.
Really? I had no idea! By the way, I’m sure you were concerned, so I’ll let you know that the kids are fine and Colorado is beautiful. You and Tori and Paddy should come out for a visit sometime.
Of course, he knew Brit was joking—mostly. But deep down, Ross suspected that his brother still saw him as if he were back in high school, quarterback of the football team and dating his way through the cheerleading squad. The brothers had always had a not-entirely-friendly sibling rivalry, fueled by the fact that they were only a year apart in school, and always seemed drawn to the same girls. Brit, who had taken on a mantle of responsibility at a young age, thought Ross was an irresponsible playboy, while Ross thought his brother took life way too seriously.
Then, at the end of senior year, Ross’s girlfriend Jenna had turned up pregnant. They’d married a few weeks after graduation, just before Jenna started to show. The baby had died a few hours after he was born. He’d had severe genetic abnormalities that would have made life next to impossible, but it had still broken both of their hearts. Ross’s father had gently suggested divorcing a few months later, but Ross couldn’t imagine leaving the woman who had carried his child. Jenna had miscarried another child a couple of years later, but Ross never told anyone about that. He was twenty-two when Luke was born, and they’d celebrated it like the miracle it was.
Now he was a divorced father of three, and hadn’t been out on a date in almost a year. He wasn’t sure Brit had ever noticed, but he certainly had.
He flipped through the rest of his e-mails, pausing at the one Jenna had sent from the airport that morning.
Just to remind you—the nanny should be there by nine. Her name is Hope and I think she will get along great with the kids. You should probably stick around for a few hours to make sure they’re doing okay, but then you can leave them to get to know each other. You’ll have to explain my leaving when she arrives. I completely forgot to call the company to let them know I wouldn’t be there.
Thanks again for coming on such short notice. I really appreciate it. Will check in when I get to Beijing.
—Jenna
Typical Jenna. Always rushing around doing one hundred things at the last minute, yet managing to carry it off in an endearingly hapless way.
They’d been divorced for almost three years, but he still counted her as one of his closest friends. That, in fact, was part of the reason he dreaded dating. He’d been aware that his marriage had problems, but he’d never considered the possibility that Jenna might actually leave him. And if he’d misjudged the woman he’d known since high school, how could he trust his judgment about anyone else? What if he got involved with someone dangerous? What if she went Fatal Attraction on him and boiled a bunny on his stove? Or, on a slightly more realistic note, what if he had her over for dinner and the kids started to like her, and then she took off and broke their hearts? What if they liked her and he didn’t, and then he had to break up with her and the kids hated him and they never recovered from it?
“Daddy, when are you coming to make my breakfast? I’m hungry.”
He turned around to the face that always made him smile. Julia, with her messy pigtails, deep blue eyes, and practiced pout, had him wrapped around her little finger, and they both knew it.
“I told you I’d be there in a few minutes, pumpkin. I’m just checking my e-mail.”
She bounced into the room on the tips of her toes. She always seemed to be bouncing. Or running. He’d have to get her into some sports, soon, or her energy would drive them all crazy. Without blinking she grabbed the mouse started clicking on messages. “Did Mommy e-mail us? Where is she now? Did her plane land yet? Is she in China?”
“She’s still in the air,” Ross said. He didn’t want to believe his daughter actually knew how to navigate an e-mail program at the age of six, but on the off chance she did he removed the mouse from her hand before she sent an errant e-mail to every one of his contacts.
“Are you sure you should be using Mommy’s computer?” Julia fixed him with a suspicious eye. “She doesn’t let us use her computer.”
“But you’re kids,” Ross pointed out. “I’m a grown-up. And it’s just until I find the power cord for my laptop. I think it’s in my other suitcase.”
He’d gotten in the night before clutching his hastily packed suitcases, with no idea where anything was. Jenna had been a wreck when he arrived, red-eyed from crying and desperate to get everything set for her journey the next morning. He’d spent the rest of the night trying to help her get packed, instead of unpacking himself. She’d been marginally more composed when she left early in the morning, but not much. She’d never been apart from the kids for such a long time. Although they’d shared custody ever since the divorce, they lived so close neither had had to go more than a few days at a time without seeing the children.
Julia squinted at him. “Really?”
Ross hauled his daughter into his lap. “You don’t believe I’m a grown-up, do you?”
“You always take us for pizza and ice cream. Mommy says we have to brush our teeth extra when we are at her house.”
He touched the tip of her nose, smiling at the dig, which he knew wasn’t intended to be mean.
“Your mother forgets that pizza represents four important food groups,” he explained solemnly. “Carbohydrate, vegetable, dairy, and grease. Just like Gramma Phoebe makes for you when you sleep over at her house.”
Her moods as changeable as the New York sky, Julia’s eyes filled with sudden tears. “I miss Gramma, Daddy. And Aunt Tori, and Melissa and Delia. I want to go back home. When are we going back home?”
Ross kicked himself for bringing up his mother. “Honey, we talked about this.” He turned Julia so she could look more squarely into his face. “This is home now. I know it’s different, but we’ll make lots of new friends here. And you’ve got a big new bedroom and a house with a yard and a park right down the street. And Gramma and Grandpa will come visit you and you can show them all around your new house.”
Julia stuck out her bottom lip. “I liked our old house. My new room is too big and I get scared sleeping by myself.”
“Forget it,” a flat, cynical voice from the door advised. “He doesn’t care. Neither does Mom. All they care about are their jobs.”
“Luke.” Ross injected a note of warning as he turned to look at his oldest son. At eleven, Luke hadn’t quite hit his growth spurt yet, but he was already well above the height of most of his peers, with long skinny legs and arms, and knees that seemed wider than his waist. His blue eyes, and the dark hair that fell in his face and covered the tops of his circular, wire-rimmed glasses, were pure Bencher, though Ross attributed the boy’s sensitive soul to Jenna. “Your mom loves you like crazy and you know it. She had no choice about this China thing.”
“We didn’t have to move here. Her job in New York was just fine.”
“Your mom hasn’t had steady work for years. This was an important step up for her.”
“Whatever.” Luke turned away and started toward the stairs.
Ross set Julia down and followed Luke out the door. “Hang on,” he called.
Luke had taken the move hard, and Ross understood why. Leaving the friends he’d known since preschool and restarting in a new town was difficult enough, but being a shy middle school boy made it even harder. Still, Luke’s moods were affecting all of the kids. Jenna had warned him that things had been rocky since they arrived. Luke was apparently determined to make everyone just as miserable as he was.
Ross stopped at the bottom of the stairs, glancing back to make sure Julia was occupied. She was happily clicking away on the computer, and he spared a brief prayer that she wouldn’t delete his entire in-box before turning his attention back to Luke. “Look, I know you’re upset, but for Julia’s sake, can’t you try to fake it a little?”
L
uke crossed his thin arms over his chest. “You want me to pretend to be happy? It’s the summer, Dad. I’m supposed to be hanging out with my friends. Instead I’m stuck in this stupid town with nothing to do.”
“I think you’ll be able to find something to do.” Ross gestured back at the window in the office. “This is Colorado. It’s like a big playground everywhere you look. There are mountains here. People ride skateboards and bikes all over the place. They climb rocks.”
“Well, that’s great.” Luke’s scowl deepened. “You do remember we’re from New York City, right? I don’t do mountains and rocks. I do baseball. And subways.”
Ross decided not to mention that Luke had often complained about being bored by his baseball games, or that he’d always hated riding the subway. “So we’ll get you into a camp, or a class or something. You’ll learn.” He forced a note of optimism. “It will be fun.”
Luke pushed back his flop of hair, the one that reminded Ross of his brother Joe, and adjusted his glasses. “We don’t fit in here. The guy at the grocery store totally laughed at Mom the other day. He said she had a funny accent. ”
Ross sighed and put a hand on Luke’s shoulder. “Son, I’m not going to lie to you and say this will be easy. But it’s good to challenge yourself and do something different. We’re all going to have to stretch a little.”
“Right.” Luke shook off his hand. “Stretch. Whatever.”
Ross thought about following him but didn’t have the heart. What could he say, anyway? That it wasn’t going to be hard? That he’d instantly find friends? Of course that wasn’t true. Luke would have to work to rebuild his circle of friends, just as Ross would have to work to rebuild his business and his community. Hell, he was living in his ex-wife’s house, for pity’s sake. They were all making sacrifices.
But that was hardly something he could explain to his son.
He sighed. If there was something divorce taught you, it was that there were no magic wands a parent could wave to fix things for their kids. Luke would have to figure this one out on his own.
