Page 5 of Cross My Heart
“MOLLY!”
“Yes, sir?”
My assistant walks around the corner appearing as frazzled as I feel.
Since Nanny number three quit two weeks ago, I’ve been asking the impossible of her. Molly is in her fifties, and while she is the best damn assistant I’ve ever had, children are not in her wheelhouse.
“Were you just asking Emily how to shut a baby up?” I ask, knowing Emily is her partner and also happens to be a kindergarten teacher.
Molly shrugs but has the grace to look chagrined. “I didn’t exactly say shut up, but Emily is much more capable of handling this…ah, stuff…than I am.”
I get the feeling Molly is at the end of her rope; this was certainly not in her job description. I have to find a new nanny soon, and it can’t just be any nanny. I will be leaving for London in two weeks, so it has to be the perfect Nanny. Fuck, it needs to be someone I can trust with my kids. I hate that I’ll be leaving them with a virtual stranger.
I also know that if I don’t make this meeting and the deal goes south, my company is in trouble. I need this venture to be successful for my employees and my family. Christ, the company succeeding is the reason we just moved into this ridiculously large house.
It was time to move out of the townhome. Get away from all the memories of Bitchzilla—the name we’ve given my ex-wife. I never call her that in front of the kids. As much as I hate her, I will never talk ill of her to my children.
Who the hell walks away from their children?Your mother and your wife,says the nagging voice inside my head. I can’t think of her right now, or ever for that matter. She is dead to me.
“What time is it?” I lost my watch in the last diaper change. I’m losing my shit here. Twins are tough, but feverish toddler twins are brutal. It's times like this that I am so thankful for my little 6-year-old boy. Tate has always been a pleaser.
Molly gives me an expression I can’t quite read…and I’m not sure if I want to. If I did, I’m afraid I’d learn she is five minutes away from quitting, and I can’t have that, so I look away.
“4:52, sir.”
“Shit, where is this girl?” I know her interview isn’t until five, but I’m antsy and exhausted. Harper and Sara had me up at least six times last night. “What is her name again?” I ask Molly, and I’m pretty sure she just rolled her eyes at me.
“Lanie. Her name is Lanie.” Molly says stiffly.
I glance up at her. She is in a pants suit that looks as though there might be green peas on the lapel. Man, I hope it's green peas and not the contents of Harper's diaper, again. “I’ll pay to have that cleaned, Molly,” I say, pointing to her jacket.
She peers down and grimaces. Maybe I shouldn’t have said anything. It doesn’t seem as if she even knew it was there.
“Yes, you will.” Molly whips her head up almost like she can’t believe she said that out loud, and quickly adds, “Thank you.”
I give her a quick nod. “Lanie. What the hell kind of name is Lanie? Is it short for something?”
“I don’t believe so, sir. They just buzzed her in at the gate, she’ll be arriving momentarily,” Molly states, always the efficient one.
I had moved us into a gated community and out of the town-home we lived in uptown. Everyone thought it was best for the safety of my family, but I still feel like a jackass every time I come through the gates.
If—no,when—this deal goes through, I will become more of a target, not just in Charlotte but also in New York, London, LA—anywhere with a corporate financial presence will know me by year's end. Except, this is Waverley-Cay for Christ sakes, not the ghetto. The median home price in this neighborhood is a million-plus. I groan, knowing I have other things I need to focus on right now.
Maybe we will grow to love this ostentatious money pit, but I doubt it. In a year, maybe two, the company will be running smoothly. Then I can slowly bring us back down to earth and find a more realistic family home.
I sigh, and Molly turns her attention to me again, this time with concern. When I get back from London, I’m going to need to give her a raise. A big one. And maybe a vacation.
“Can you give me the quick rundown on her?”Shit, what was her name?
Molly lets out a sigh of her own and recites her details from memory. “Lanie Heart. 26. From Burke Mountain, Vermont. She graduated second in her class at Boston University with a degree in social work. She worked as a nanny in Brookline, MA, during her last two years of college. Once she graduated, she worked for the State of Vermont. There is no work history for the last eighteen months. From what I could find, it seems there was a major accident of some sort and she was severely injured. However, the records are sealed because a minor was involved. I asked Ryan to look into her and the preliminary report is that she was injured trying to save the child. No more details were readily available. She has remarkable references, most notably a letter of personal reference from Maxine and Pete McDowell.”
My head whips up. “The lawyers?”
I remember them from law school. They had a firm in Boston and won an unprecedented case that we studied in my first year. I became enamored with their skills in the courtroom and the way they worked together as attorneys while also husband and wife. In my second and third years, I followed their careers and became dumbfounded to learn they sold their practice when they were in their early forties and moved to some small town to practice family law.
“Yes, sir. It seems she has known them most of her life, would you like to see the letter?”
Just then, the doorbell rings, and Harper, who is in my arms asleep, lets out a shriek that could break the glass throughout the house. I need to unhook that goddamn doorbell. It plays some ridiculous song and goes on for far too long.
