Page 92 of Nanny For The Billionaire Bosshole

“We’ll be there in ten minutes,” I say, then hang up the phone. Turning around to Jane and Anna, I announce, “Let’s go see Mrs. Ritz!”

“Oh, I like the candy she has!” Anna says, getting excited.

“Alright, let’s go,” I pick her up and start walking towards the garage, with Jane following right behind me.

Mrs. Ritz receives us at the door herself, kissing me on the cheek and scooping both Anna and Jane into a small group hug.

“To what do I owe the honor of this visit?” the elderly woman says, stepping aside to let us in.

“We just missed you, Mrs, Ritz,” I say. “And there’s something I need your advice on.”

“Oh!” She guides us to her living room. “This is a woman problem, isn’t it?”

“You can say exactly that, Mrs. Ritz!” Jane says.

We take a seat, but Anna doesn’t quiet down until Mrs. Ritz allows her to attack the candy dish.

Chewing on a piece of ribbon candy, Anna slows down and lets us start talking.

“Do you remember Joyce, Mrs. Ritz?” I say. The woman raises an eyebrow, intrigued. “She was the woman who accompanied you and Jane to the HOA Ball.”

“Oh! That Joyce!” She nods in agreement. “What about her?”

“We were dating,” I say, bluntly. “And she’s pregnant now.”

“Naughty boy!” Mrs. Ritz says in jest, with the tone of someone who could slap me. “You are getting married, aren’t you?”

Jane looks at me with hope and I’m still so surprised to see her change in attitude. She’s gone from wanting to sabotage our relationship to wanting us to be together in the blink of an eye.

I’m glad she’s come around, but now that I have Jane back, I’ve lost Joyce.

I give my answer to the room as dignified as I can. “I tried, Mrs. Ritz, but something happened.”

Now I look at Jane, who shrinks in place out of shame.

“It was my fault, Mrs. Ritz,” Jane says. “Logan paid for Joyce’s school tuition without her knowing. And I told her…”

Mrs. Ritz lays a hand on her chin, and consumed in thought, shakes her head with a frown.

“Why didn’t she want you to help?” she asks, curious.

I shrug, sighing as deeply as I can without hurting my lungs.

“I couldn’t understand that myself until recently. But I understand now. She’s used to doing things on her own. I hurt her pride. And I broke her trust because I told her I wouldn’t, and I did so anyway.”

“So, there are two wrongs in this story,” Mrs. Ritz holds up two fingers. “You, who tried to do a nice thing and ended up being wrong because you didn’t think about what you were doing, and Jane, who did the right thing and told the truth, but for the wrong reasons. Carter?”

She calls for the caretaker, and he posts himself by her side, loyal as a dog.

“Yes, Mrs. Ritz?”

“Bring us some tea, please. Chamomile, nerves are aroused here,” she orders, and Carter goes to the kitchen immediately.

“What was I saying? Oh! That’s right. Have you asked for Joyce’s forgiveness yet?”

Jane nods, but now I am the one who shrinks, crossing my arms and pouting like a pampered schoolgirl denied fancy shoes.

“I tried, but I don’t think she’s ready to hear me,” Jane says.

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