Page 6 of The Unconventional Nanny
"Thank you."
The rest of the drive is quiet, but not the uncomfortable kind most strangers endure. Just silent and refreshing.
We pull into my driveway and I just sit in the driver’s seat for a few seconds. I know from experience I need to get Everly out of her seat before she wakes up—my youngest daughter hates her car seat with a passion—but when Gracie doesn't say anything or attempt to get out yet, I take an extra moment before turning the SUV off and climbing out myself. I do my best to take Everly out with minimal disruption. For once, luck is on my side, because she doesn't stir as I use my boot to kick the door closed.
Gracie—who climbed out the other side and is leaning a hip on the front bumper—waits for me to get closer before whispering, "I should head out."
"Why don't you come inside for a minute. Once I get Everly settled, we can discuss you moving in," I counter.
Gracie nods and follows me up the sidewalk. Despite being proficient at opening the door with a sleeping kid in my arms, I hand over the keys to her and let her do it. Sometimes it’s just nice to have help, and I haven’t had that in a while.
I don't wait around once the door is opened to see if Gracie follows me in. I head straight for Everly's room and tuck her into her toddler bed. It's clear my baby is more tired than I realized because she doesn't stir. That or she's getting sick.
Please, God, don't let her be getting sick.
Grabbing the baby monitor, I sneak out of the room and find Gracie waiting for me in the kitchen.
"Thanks for waiting."
Gracie smiles. "No problem. I guess it would help to figure out some details."
We laugh together at the awkwardness that suddenly blankets the room. This was so much easier when Everly, my missing nanny, or even my job was at the forefront of our conversations.
I take a business card out of my wallet and slide it across the island. "Here's my number. Just let me know when you want to move in and I'll make sure the place is left open for you."
She takes the card and slips it into the back pocket of her baggy jeans. "I appreciate it." She looks like she wants to say more, but a shrill sound comes from her phone and puts Gracie on edge. Her relaxed shoulders suddenly tense and her smile slips away.
I watch in wonder as she reads something on the screen before her face pales and she mutters, "I have to go."
Gracie rushes out of the house without so much as a goodbye, and I'm left to wonder what the hell just happened.
Chapter Three
ANGELO
The Crazy Fox diner is its usual lunchtime busy when I walk through the doors to grab a bite to eat. I weave my way through the mismatched tables and booths until I find a lone small table in the corner with just one chair.
This isn't the type of place with any sort of organization or structure. Not a single chair in the place matches and the tables are all different sizes and shapes. Bertha, affectionately known as Bee, is known to replace things on a whim, without a care in the world if it goes with the rest of the decor. Some might call her a hoarder. I like to think she's savvy, finding furniture on the side of the road or at a flea market for cheap and giving it a new home.
"Well, if it ain't my favorite daddy coming to see me."
Speak of the devil.
"Hi, Bee. How ya doing today?"
"Better now that I get to see such a fine gentleman. It's been a few weeks since you've come to visit."
My smile slips a little. "Been a little busy."
A vast understatement.
"Speaking of. How's your mama?"
I puff my cheeks and blow out a breath. "She's mad at me. Wants to be back home. But that's not really an option, so we’re trying to navigate that."
Bee's bony fingers touch my shoulder and give it a light squeeze. "I know it might not seem like it now, but you made the right decision. There's no shame in asking for help. You have three beautiful girls who rely on you. They have to come first."
"I know that, but you know how my mother is. She wants to help and hates that her condition keeps her from doing so."
