Page 81 of The Billionaire's One-Night Stand Nanny
“You’re sure?” she asked again. “It feels just a little bit–”
“Maddie?” came her mom’s voice. “Where are you? Are you–”
“I’m ready, Mom, I’m coming!” she said.
“Oh, there you are, love.”
I couldn’t help the gasp that escaped from my mouth, or the embarrassed blush that followed it at the quirk of Tally’s lips.
“You look beautiful,” I said. She did–she was resplendent, actually, her brown hair swept back into an elegant chignon, her dress an interesting shade of the palest blueish-green that I’d heard Maddie calleau de nil. It would be all over the runways next year, if I had to guess. I’d learned just enough about trend forecasting in the months that I’d known her–as more than just her daughter’s nanny–to know that Tally wasreallygood at her job.
“Thanks, Flora. That’s nice of you to say. You look beautiful, too.”
“I helped pick out the dress,” Maddie preened, and I nodded in acknowledgement. She had–we’d had a girls’ day out, picking out my dress at a tiny jewel box of a boutique. We’d had it delivered instead of carrying it home so that our hands were free to carry ice cream cones instead.
“Next time, you’ll be the one making it,” her mother said with a small smile. “If you keep practicing your sewing. She’s really improving,” she said over her daughter’s head. “I can’t thank you enough, Flora.”
“Youreallydon’t need to,” I said. “Especiallynot today.”
“Well, let me take you out for lunch again sometime. Not this week, obviously, but soon.”
“I’d love that, Tally,” I said.
“Tally?” the event planner stuck her head into the dressing room. “It’s time to go.” She rushed off again. Hazel had told me in tones equally fearful and reverent that the woman was like an organization demon.
Tally smiled and took a deep breath. “Ready, Maddie?”
“Ready,” she said with a nod.
I nodded, too–at Maddie, who was looking slightly pale, like she needed a bit of encouragement, and at Tally, who had welcomed me into her family with more grace than I thought I could have ever managed in her situation.
“I’ll see you after,” I said, and excused myself. I wouldn’t linger during their few moments alone on this busy day.
I stepped out into the hall and was immediately accosted by Edie. “Flora! I’ve been looking for you!Did you seethe placecards? They arespectacular. Tally told me she got them done by a woman in Paris, all hand-painted, can you believe it? I got her name from the planner if you want it. Oh! And the florist is that little shop near my place, you know, the one that always has the paper flowers in the window? They did such a pretty job with the color scheme–”
“Hey, Edie, slow down,” I laughed. “Have you seen Hazel?”
She nodded. “By the champagne bar. But–”
“Thanks. I just want to make sure she’s okay,” I said, and when Edie gave me a worried look, I added, “I’ll be sure to check the placecards out if it will make you happy.”
“Okay, Flora, but–”
“I’ll berightback, promise.”
I made my way through the party guests mingling before the ceremony, the density of champagne flutes increasing as I crossed the high-ceilinged ballroom towards their source. I spotted Hazel’s bright strawberry-blonde hair through the crowd first, and her bright white chef coat second. “Hazel!”
“Oh, hey,” she said. “I was wondering when I’d see you.”
“What can I help you with?”
“...And that was the question I was wondering if I would hear. Nothing, you can’t help me with anything. Go away.”
“I have a couple minutes, do you–”
“Flora,” she said, turning away from the rows of neatly arranged toast and wedges of cheese. “You asked me, once upon a time, to get you into some fancy society parties when I struck it big. Now, if your reason for going to a fancy society party,” she glanced around at our surroundings pointedly, “was to help the caterer, you should have just gotten a job as a cater-waiter. That’s way less of a hassle than having a one-night stand, getting yourself hired as the nanny, falling for your boss, torturing yourself for half a year…” She listed out my recent exploits in an exaggerated bored tone, eyebrows raised. “Now, are you a guest, or are you the staff? Thenanny, maybe?”
“A guest,” I said. “But–”
