Page 13 of The Good Girl Effect
“Camille!” she squeals as she throws her arms around my legs.
“Bonjour, Bea,” I say as I lean down and give her a proper hug. Her hair is still as immaculate as it was last time, and it makes me wonder if she ever lets it get messy. Is this little girl always so prim and proper? Does she ever get the chance to be a kid?
“I told Papa to hire you,” she says with a giggle.
“I’m glad you did,” I reply.
After greeting Bea, I stand and shake Phoenix’s hand again. She seems so serious with strict posture and very practical clothing.
“How was your trip?” she asks.
“Très bien, merci,” I reply, wincing at the reminder that Jack said strictly no French in the house. Technically, we’re still outside, so hopefully she’ll let that slide on a technicality.
Phoenix doesn’t react. “The driver can bring your bags inside, and I can give you a tour.”
Bea links her little hand in mine as we follow Phoenix into the building and up the stairs toward the apartment. Once weenter, I find myself immediately looking toward the stairs for a sign of Jack. The apartment is quiet, so I assume he’s not here.
“This will be your room back here,” Phoenix says, and I follow her through the apartment. It takes me by surprise again, just how large the home is with two levels, two sitting areas, two dining rooms, one grand kitchen, and a hallway full of doors.
As she presses open one of the doors, I peer inside to find a pristine and practical bedroom. One bed, one dresser, one nightstand, and an en suite bathroom.
“This is lovely,” I say as I take a look around. I imagine myself living here. It’s not much, but it’s a start.
“I’ve printed out everything we agreed upon already here,” she says as she hands me a packet. “Including your hours, house rules, payment, and numbers in case of emergency.”
As I take the packet, I quickly scan through it, but none of it is new. We’ve already discussed all this.
“Beatrice attends primary school from eight thirty until four. You will need to drop her off and pick her up. Monsieur St. Claire works mostly in his office upstairs during the day. The apartment must stay relatively quiet while he’s working. There’s a children’s park down the street.”
Bea hops excitedly at the sound of that. Surely, she has some play clothes, because I can’t imagine her at the park in these pretty dresses.
Phoenix continues to elaborate on all the rules and expectations, and I want to stop her and assure her that I have everything under control. But she seems so determined, I let her finish.
“Do you have any questions?” she asks.
“No,” I reply with my hands gripped together behind my back.
She hesitates briefly while staring into my eyes, and I can tell she wants to say something. “Bea, go play in your room,” she says to the little girl.
Reluctantly, Bea listens, sprinting down the hall to her own room, leaving Phoenix and me alone.
After breathing a pensive sigh, she says, “Monsieur St. Claire is a private man. It’s best you don’t go upstairs or bother him unless it’s important. Don’t ask about his work or where he goes at night.”
Well, that sounds very ominous and not at all comforting. My brows furrow as my heart suddenly starts hammering in my chest. “Okay…” I should probably pry for information, but what if I do and she decides I’m too nosy and Jack changes his mind about hiring me? It was my stubborn curiosity that got me this job—I’m not about to let it ruin it at the same time.
“He hasn’t dealt with the death of his wife well, so he might come across as a little cold and mean. It would be wise of you to give him his space.”
Consider my curiosity piqued.Leave it be, Camille.
“I understand,” I murmur.
“You have my number. If you need anything, call me. I live just two blocks down.”
“Everything is under control,” I say with a nod.
When she lets out another sigh, her shoulders relax.
Before she walks away, I ask, “Has Bea ever had a nanny before?”
