Page 6 of Tied Up In Tinsel
From:[email protected]
Thank you for responding so quickly! How about you come by tomorrow? We can meet and then we can meet with Ruby.
Thanks!
Annie
From:[email protected]
I’ll see you then!
Brooks
The next morning started the way most of my mornings did—half-asleep, clutching a mug of coffee like it was my lifeline, and hoping I didn’t have to referee any more dramatic battles between Ruby and her cereal box.
It was still snowing outside. Thick flakes drifted down past the kitchen window, swirling in that lazy, hypnotic way that made you think of holiday movies and perfectly frosted sugar cookies.
The kitchen smelled like peppermint coffee and toast, and the only sound was the quiet hum of the fridge, until I opened my laptop and saw the little notification that would change the entire holiday.
There was a new notification about a response to my post on the Snowberry Peak discussion group.
I clicked on it, not expecting much. My last applicant for the nanny posting had been another sweet eighty-four-year-old woman, this one named Florence. While lovely, she had admitted she hadn’t been around children in “about five decades” and couldn’t guarantee she wouldn’t “nap mid-shift.”
Snowberry Peak did have a rather large elderly population.
But this one…
The name at the top read: Brooks Bennett.
Short. Simple. Clean. I liked it already.
I scanned the resume. It wasn’t overly formal—no stiff corporate jargon—but it was packed with relevant experience. Birthday party host. Summer art camp leader.
Under their special skills it hadballoon animal artistlisted. Even a line about beinghighly skilled in glitter clean-up,which I personally believed should qualify anyone for sainthood.
For the first time since posting the job yesterday, I actually exhaled.
This could work.
They could actuallybe good.
I got sophisticated but fun young woman. The resume felt warm and playful, or maybe I just wanted another woman in the house for the holidays.
I clicked over to my email and sent a quick response, my fingers flying over the keys. A friendly “Thanks for applying! I’d love to chat!” kind of note. Professional but warm. Not desperate. Even though, if we were being honest, Iwasdesperate.
Typically, I’d vet someone more if they were going to be meeting and spending time with my daughter, but I was in a pinch. Plus, the few emails I had exchanged with them were pleasant. I knew I had a bunch of questions but, I had to get this ball rolling.
Leaning back in my chair, I sipped my coffee and let out a long, relieved sigh.
I didn’t even realize I was smiling until I caught sight of my reflection in the darkened microwave door.
“Ruby!” I called toward the living room, where I could hear the opening lines of The Polar Express, her latest animated obsession. “Pause your show and come in here for a sec!”
From the other room came a groan of pure, tragic suffering. “Mooooom! It’s the good part!”
