Page 29 of The Christmas Nanny

Nobody in a divorce wins. People hate each other, and the kids get hurt. Even the nannies would suffer in this divorce. I would give Stephanie Quartermain dirt on her husband if I found any, but I would not do anything to hurt Christine. It wasn’t my way.

“What ya looking at?” Christine asked. She looked amazing in jeans, a red sweater, and a black puffy vest.

“The Quartermains had us followed.” I turned away from the window. “Nothing unexpected.” I held her hand and checked her out again. “Amazing.”

“Four days in, and you’ve already spoiled me.”

On the way to the car, I watched the Mercedes—still no sign of life. We pulled from the parking lot, and then it followed us to the Quartermains’ front door.

“I’m not so sure anymore, Jacob.” Christine turned to the car behind us. “Are they going to have us followed everywhere we go?”

“As long as we are under their employment, we’ll be under a watchful eye.” I climbed out and went around to let Christine out. “The thing we have to do is not let them get under our skin. It’s a lot of money, and with that money comes inconveniences. Let’s do this.”

Hand in hand, we walked to the front door, once again met by the Englishman. This time, he introduced himself.

“Boris Chamberlain,” he said. “Since we’ll be working together, I thought it best I introduce myself.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Boris,” I said and offered my hand. He shook his head, not a hand shaker.

“The Quartermains are waiting in the study.” He opened the door, and we followed him inside. The Quartermains were seated on a couch in the study. Two high-back chairs sat across from them, where Boris placed us. He left and closed the study doors.

Despite us waiting, the Quartermains pecked away on their phones. Christine and I shared a glance. Mrs Quartermain was the first to place her phone aside.

“Since you are both here, we’ll take that as you accepting the job. The first order of business will be moving you into your rooms.” Her phone buzzed, and she glanced at the screen. “Next, you will refer to us by our first names. There’s no need for formalities.”

“We expect that the two of you will be full-time nannies. You’ll live here and keep a schedule with Boris, which will be at our fingertips.” Charles adjusted his tie, and I wondered if he always dressed in a suit, the way Stephanie always seemed to wear workout clothes. In appearance, they were complete opposites.

“You’ll have us followed whenever we leave?” Christine asked before I had the chance.

“Every time.” Charles stood and made himself a drink. He didn’t offer a drink to anyone else. “You both need to understand that things we say and do are very sensitive. We’re not ones to air our dirty laundry to the public. We do our best to keep everything we do quiet.”

“When do we meet Samantha?” I asked.

Charles and Stephanie glanced at each other. Stephanie pecked on her phone a few times and looked up.

“She’ll be here in a few minutes,” Stephanie said. She bore a hole into my soul. “Our daughter is off limits.”

It was getting weird again. “I have no interest in a teenager,” I said. “No reason to worry.”

Charles returned to his seat. “You both understand there will be a probationary period. On Christmas D

ay, we will decide if the two of you will be kept.”

“It’s possible you will fire one or both of us on Christmas?” Christine said.

Stephanie chimed in. “That’s correct. We expect you both to be here for Christmas and Christmas Eve. New Year's Eve will be optional if you’re still employed.”

Charles removed two envelopes from his inside suit pocket. He handed one to Christine and the other to me. “Payment for December—not prorated—and your sign-on bonus.”

The study door opened, and everyone stopped talking. The young woman entering the room was drop-dead gorgeous. She walked to the bar and made herself a drink. She handled the whiskey bottle as if it were an old friend. She wore a tight white top—nipples poking against the fabric—and a short plaid skirt. Her socks were knee-high. She had two blonde ponytails that flopped as she walked. She finished the drink and stood behind her parents.

Charles got up and hugged his daughter, kissing her on the lips for a second too long. Stephanie watched with no reaction to the prolonged kiss. Christine shook her head at me.

“Our daughter, Samantha,” Charles said. “These are your new nannies. Jacob King and Christine Nightingale.”

“Hello,” Samantha said, milking the drink in her hand.

Stephanie got up and put her arm around Samantha’s back. She pulled her daughter close and kissed her on the cheek. “She’s our pride and joy,” Stephanie said. “When we’re not here, she can answer your questions and show you around.”

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