Page 35 of One Last Shot

She sobs in my arms as I struggle to figure out how we’ve come to mean so much to each other in such a short period. I really am going to miss her.

“And what do we have here?” The question, in Russian, comes from behind me.

“This is Petra,” Aleksandr says. “She’s a friend of the family.”

“And why does she have your niece in such a state?” the woman asks, criticism dripping from every word. I hate her already, and I haven’t even turned around to see her.

“Stella’s just having a hard time saying goodbye,” I tell her, in English, so Stella can understand what we’re talking about. It seems rude to talk about her in another language in front of her.

“I don’t want you to leave,” Stella wails, doing nothing to try to calm herself down.

“This is ridiculous,” the woman says, and I cast a glance over my shoulder at her. Stella’s wrong about her being old. She’s probably in her early forties, but she’s got a severe look about her. I can tell she’s a strict, no-nonsense kind of person, which is fine as long as she’s caring too. “I have been a nanny for twenty years and have never seen a child so coddled.”

“She’s lost both her parents and a nanny she loved in the past few months,” I say in Russian, because Stella doesn’t need the reminder. “Have some compassion.”

“I do not indulge whiny children,” she says back to me, and now I’m glad Stella can’t understand what we’re saying. Her tears have slowed down as she watches this conversation volley back and forth, undoubtedly trying to figure out what’s happening.

My back straightens, but I don’t let go of Stella. Instead, I look at Aleksandr, waiting for him to step in and put this woman in her place.Why is he letting her talk about Stella like this?

“She is not a whiny child,” Aleksandr finally speaks, in Russian. “She’s grieving. There’s a difference.”

“She needs to learn to deal with her emotions without tears. A child such as this …” She sweeps her hand toward Stella as she turns toward Aleksandr. “I cannot work with her if you are going to spoil her so.”

I rise from the floor with Stella still wrapped around me like a koala on her mother. I stand there facing them, wondering where Aleksandr’s backbone is. Before I leave, I’ll make sure this woman treats Stella right.

“There is a difference between loving and spoiling. Loving means giving someone what they need in order to feel safe and cared for. Spoiling is giving someone what they don’t need, just because they want it. You should learn the difference if you are going to work with children.”

Her beady eyes go wide as the heat creeps into her cheeks. “I am the most sought after nanny on the Upper East Side for a reason,” she tells me. “My charges become strong, independent people. And I willnotbe talked to like this.” She looks over at Aleksandr as if she’s waiting for him to say something.

“Maybe we should give Stella some time to get to know her new nanny, Petra,” he says in English.

By the way the nanny’s eyes meet mine, I can tell it’s not the response either of us were expecting. Her look is triumphant, which is fine because this gives me a few minutes to talk to Aleksandr about all the reasons why he can’t leave Stella in this woman’s care. There must be a hundred other people who’d do the job better than her.

“I’m going to go chat with your uncle,” I tell Stella. “But I’ll come say goodbye before I go.”

She squeezes her arms so tightly around my shoulders I’m worried she won’t let go. But she does, and as I set her back on the floor, I realize that at six she’s braver than I was at thirteen. No one this young should have to shoulder so much loss.

We leave them in Stella’s room, but instead of heading to the living room, Aleksandr walks through the dining room, through the butler’s pantry, and into the kitchen. Which puts two doors between us and the rest of the apartment—like he knows he’s about to get an earful from me, and he doesn’t want Stella to hear.

He walks to the far end of the kitchen, to the small table that sits beneath two large windows, each with a million dollar view. I wonder if I counted all the windows in the apartment, would the total number equal how many millions of dollars he paid for this place? Probably.

I stop at the end of the cabinets and lean my hip against the countertop, keeping the kitchen table between us.

“You can’t come in here and make things more difficult for Stella,” he says. Gone is the easy camaraderie we had in here yesterday evening before Stella saw the spider. Gone is the palpable sense of attraction too.

“Imade things more difficult for Stella?”

“Yes. Don’t aggravate her nanny, Petra. You have no idea what it took to get that woman to come work for me. She wasn’t exaggerating when she said she’s the most sought after nanny on the Upper East Side.”

“Stella doesn’t need someone harsh right now, Aleksandr.” His name is a bullet fired from my lips. “Do you not understand what she’s gone through? How much she’s lost in the last several months? How do you think giving her a militant nanny is going to be what’s best for her?”

“I’m doing the best I can,” he says, and runs both of his hand through his hair, pushing it off his face.

“Well, you have to do better,” I tell him. There’s no nice way to say that, it just has to be said.

“That’s easy for you to say, isn’t it? Just waltz in here and make her care about you, then waltz right back to your life in Park City. You don’t have to make the hard decisions. No, when things get hard, you just leave. You’re not the one here day in and day out with her. I am. I’ve hired Irina based on her references. She’s a well-respected nanny, and she’ll be good for Stella.”

“How can you possibly say she’ll be good for Stella?” I ask, my voice rising.

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