Chapter 19

CARI

I hardly slept last night. My body ached for rest, but my mind refused to shut off. I told Jett it was jetlag, but of course it wasn’t. It couldn’t have been. We were barely up in the air long enough.

I’m feeling unsettled and it’s because of my boss. Being around him is harder than it’s ever been.

Thankfully, when I wake up, he’s nowhere to be found. A feeling of relief washes over me. Without him looming in the background, sucking the energy out of me, I feel ... good. Refreshed, even. Maybe it’s the space, the chance to breathe without his presence weighing on me like a boulder. Making my heart hurt.

But it’s not like I’ve forgotten what happened last night. The barbecue, Jacques, Jett humiliating me. It plays on a loop in my head, messing with my sense of reality. I keep wondering what was real and what I misread. Why did Jett act so possessively? Why did he apologize? He’s never like that. He never apologizes. He’s so concerned about Brooke. She’s his everything. He was just being extra vigilant for her sake.

I shake off the thoughts. I don’t have time to dwell on him, not when I have Brooke to take care of. So, I throw myself into the day.

Jett has sent me a message, informing me that we need to be at Brooke’s friend’s house by noon for lunch. That gives us a bit of time to explore the house and the surrounding grounds.

There’s so much to do here, and she’s in her element. We explore the house, and to my delight I see that there’s a big library, a bar, and numerous other rooms I soon lose track of. Brooke turns her nose up when we step inside the library. I quickly take in the deep oak shelves stretching from floor to ceiling, the plush armchairs, and a stone fireplace. I make a note to come back later on.

We explore the gardens outside, a lush expanse of brightly colored blooms and palm trees. Nearby a turquoise-colored pool shimmers under the sun. It’s surrounded by lounge chairs and shaded canopies.

A winding stone path leads to a gazebo, its white pillars framed by climbing ivy. Further up, near the sea is an oceanfront terrace overlooking the Atlantic, with steps leading down to a private stretch of beach.

This truly is paradise.

I see Ruby, one of the house staff, and ask her about the tent Brooke mentioned. She tells me she’ll have it sent up to Brooke’s room later. I tell her that Brooke and I will put it up, since I like the idea of having a little project for us both to work on.

We get ready to go to her friend Madison’s house, with the driver and bodyguard in tow, of course. I text Jett to let him know that we’re on our way, wanting to keep him updated since he seems to be so concerned about Brooke. I don’t expect much of a reply. He’s been buried in back-to-back meetings since we arrived, and I can only imagine how exhausted he must be.

Madison’s house is another sprawling mansion, with manicured lawns and a large shimmering pool. As we arrive, Madison’s mother, Abigail, greets us with a practiced smile. She’s a glamorous blonde in a tight dress, dripping in jewelry,.

“You must be Cari,” she says. “It’s so nice to meet you. Brooke! My, how you’ve grown. Madison, Brooke’s here!” she cries out to one of the girls in the pool. “Would you like to join the other moms?” she asks me.

“I’ll stay close to Brooke and keep an eye on her, if that’s alright.”

Her relief is almost tangible. “Of course. The kids are free to dip in and out of the pool. Please make yourself comfortable, and help yourself to the buffet.” She waves her hand at a large table near where a group of women are sitting. They’re all staring in my direction.

I quickly glance at the food and murmur, “Thank you.”

“The children are having their lunch inside.” Another wave of the hand in the direction of the house. I notice the way she glances at me when she thinks I’m not looking. She leaves me with another smile and goes back to her friends.

I help Brooke get into her swimsuit, but I catch the other moms huddled together, whispering, their eyes flicking toward me. I know exactly what they’re thinking.

I’m the help.

And you know what? I don’t even care. I’d rather be labeled the help than sit with those women, gossiping about who knows what.

Brooke, on the other hand, is having the time of her life, splashing in the pool, playing tag with her friends. Her laughter rings out, bright and carefree. It’s a sound that makes the day easier to bear.

Jett hasn’t spent much time with her since we arrived, and I wonder how Brooke really feels about that. She was so excited to be here, thinking she’d see her father more, but he’s been too busy to even see her after the barbecue. It’s good she has friends to keep her occupied, but I still feel bad for her.

The girls come out of the pool and Abigail implores them all to get changed into dry clothes so that they can have lunch and watch a film. At this a chorus of excitement goes around the group like a wave.

Because I’m always by Brooke’s side, I inadvertently end up overseeing the girls. There are about eight of them sitting on expensive leather bar stools eating lunch—pizza and fries—in the sleek marble-topped kitchen.

A housekeeper brings out more hot, freshly cooked pizzas, and I keep replenishing the girls' empty glasses with more juice.

“Are you not eating?” I turn to see an older woman, much older than the others, walking towards me. Her eyes are as warm as her smile, and she has an aura that lowers my guard.

“I'm not feeling hungry.”

“Not feeling hungry, or too scared to get to the table?” She gives me a knowing grin. “I'm Celine.” She smells of lavender, and I immediately feel peaceful around her.

“I'm Cari, Brooke's nanny.”

“I thought you might be, on account of how you won’t let her out of your sight. Can I get you some food from the adult table? I sense you're more than capable of getting it yourself, even if you have to cross that group to get it.”

“If I needed food, trust me, they wouldn't be in my way.” The truth is, breakfast in the morning is a banquet with plates of fresh fruit, pancakes, bacon, and cereal, as well as freshly baked croissants and pastries. I more than ate my fill this morning.

Celine chuckles. “Brooke has grown,” she says, fondly, surveying Brooke as a proud grandmother would.

“She just turned five.”

“Five,” she says, wistfully. “How times marches on. And how is Jett?”

I immediately force myself to think of Jacques in order to keep my face from blushing and keep my thoughts in check. “He's ... very busy.”

“Busy. As always.” Celine nods, folding her arms and watching the girls, her gaze going to Brooke often.

? “How do you know Brooke?” I ask, curious to discover more. I wish I'd seen her earlier, because I would have sat out with her while watching the girls in the pool. Now we're about to go and watch a film in the cinema room, wherever that is.

She surveys me for a few seconds more than is normal. “Brooke’s grandmother was a very good friend of mine.”

My mouth falls open. “Oh ...” I am all ears, wanting to know whatever I can glean.

“Aurora Knight was as beautiful inside as she was on the surface.” Celine’s eyes turn misty. “I think of her a lot, especially when I see Brooke. Or Jett, Dex, and Zach, whenever the boys are here. Though when it's business, I don't see them at all.”

I don't even know what to say. But I have a question. “You didn’t mention Paul Knight.”

“No. I didn’t.”

Moving away from that topic, “You're here with ...?” I ask politely.

“My granddaughter, Zara.” She points to a pretty little girl sitting between Brooke and Madison. “Her mom, my daughter, is about to give birth, so I'm helping out.”

“Awww. She's lovely. They appear to be getting on really well.” I’ve noticed that Brooke seems to stick close to Zara’s side.

“They’re friends. When she was born, Sophia came here for a long break, more than a few months, and Zara was also a newborn then. We used to spend so much time together. I often think of how proud and happy Aurora would have been to see Brooke,her first grandchild—at least, the first one we knew about.” She mutters these last words to herself, and I am still processing that when she adds, “We only see Brooke once a year, if that. But I'm always astonished at how quickly these youngsters can continue their friendship. It's like they've never been apart.”

Sophia. Jett’s wife. “There's something to be said for that,” I murmur. Children don't hold grudges the way older people often do. They let bygones be bygones.

“I need to go pick up something for my daughter, would you mind keeping an eye on Zara for me? I’m sorry to lumber you with this, given that you’ve ended up taking care of—

“It’s really not a problem,” I say, rushing to ease her worry. “I would rather be here, with the girls.”

“Thank you.” This woman is so lovely. I want to spend more time with her. “I’ll be back shortly.”

“Take as long as you want, and please don't worry about Zara.”

“With you around, I know she’s in good hands.” She winks at me. “I hope Madison won't be too upset with her. Zara adores Brooke. She’s missed her.” She leaves quickly, and I feel all alone again.

The girls finish their lunch, and Abigail seems pleased that I'm keeping an eye on the children. She asks me if I'll be okay to watch a movie with them, then informs me that a staff member will put on the film once I’ve herded the girls into the cinema room.

Before I can ask her where that is, she’s already walking back to her friends.

“Who’s ready to watch a film?” I ask the girls.

“I want to show them my designer doll collection,” Madison announces, sliding off the stool.

They follow Madison upstairs and into an enormous room that's the size of the apartment Eliana and I share.

On one side of the room, a glass table exhibits the most exquisite dolls, with perfect features. They are dressed in gorgeous clothes that look expensive, made from velvet, silk and satin. There is nothing cheap and trashy here.

I've never seen anything like it. The girls oooh and ahhh over the collection.

“Don't touch!” Madison yells.

The girls whip their hands to their sides again, obeying Madison's order.

“Shall we start the film?” I need to get them away from this expensive-looking collection quickly.

“Yes!” They cry out in unison.

“Show me the way to the movie room!” I say to Madison, rather dramatically and with a flourish of my hand. She looks at me with suspicion.

Beside me, Zara and Brooke giggle. They're holding hands, and I see Madison's face twist as she notices this.

“Follow me.” With her nose in the air, she leads us into a movie theater. As we walk in, I almost choke with surprise. It’s a small movie theater with seating for about fifty people. But this is the real deal. A thickly carpeted floor. Spacious, wide seats with leg rests that raise up with the touch of a button. The armrests have trays that contain boxes of popcorn, candy, and slushies which one of the staff has finished setting out.

The girls take their seats, the lights turn off and the movie plays.

It's the Barbie movie.

Even I'm delighted as I sit behind Brooke.

During the film, a few of the girls get up and go to the bathroom, which is at the back, but still inside the theater. When Brooke needs to go, I go with her. It's not just one toilet in there, but five.

My eyes widen, and I take a quick video of it to send to Eliana later. I'm still trying to wrap my head around where I am, and what I've seen, and I can't wait to tell her everything.

When the film finishes, it’s time to head home.

I remind Brooke that we need to thank Madison's mom, and we make our way over to her. Abigail’s mom is all smiles, but I can’t shake the weird tension from earlier. It’s like I’ve been under a microscope all day, judged for not belonging.

Just then we hear the loudest wail.

“She broke my doll!”

Everyone whips their head around, to see Madison holding one of her beautiful dolls, snapped in half. She's pointing at Brooke who shrinks against me.

I place a protective hand on her shoulder.

Madison's mother rushes over. “What happened?” she asks her bawling daughter.

“Brooke broke my doll!”

“I didn't.” Brooke protests, and bursts into tears.

I'm horrified. “Don't cry, sweetie. You didn't do anything.” I say it loudly so that everyone hears.

“She broke my doll!” Madison insists.

I try not to glare at her. “She did no such thing.”

“Don't you dare talk to my daughter like that!” Abigail shrieks.

“Brooke did no such thing,” I say to Madison calmly, remembering the warning Celine gave me earlier.

“Madison, baby.” Her mother bends down and takes the two parts of the doll. She gets up and looks at Brooke with a horrified expression on her face. “How could you?”

“Brooke didn't do that,” I protest, my nostrils flaring.

“How do you know?” Abigail asks.

“How does Madison know? Where is her proof?” I push back. “Your daughter can't make accusations without backing them up. Brooke did nothing of the sort. I've been with her the entire time.”

By now, all of the mothers have come over to witness this spectacle with a better view.

“She went to the bathroom!” Madison yells, her face an ugly grimace as she glares at Brooke. I keep my hand firmly pressed against Brooke’s shoulder, letting her know I have her back.

“I accompanied her.” I narrow my eyes at Abigail, hating her intensely for siding with her daughter without giving Brooke any benefit of the doubt.

“Mommy, she broke my doll. I hate her. She's come and now this happens.” The child throws her arms up, diva-style.

With her daughter's face buried in the skirt of her bright yellow summer dress, Abigail eyes me icily. “These girls are around each other's houses all the time and we’ve never had this problem before.”

I place my other hand on Brooke’s other shoulder. “Brooke is a well-behaved child, and she would never do something like this. You and your daughter owe her an apology because she’s been in my sight the entire time. It’s appalling that you would make such an accusation without a shred of evidence. I assure you, Brooke hasn’t touched those dolls.”

“Who’s to say you'd tell the truth anyway?” Abigail hisses.

“Pardon me?” I fire back. “What do you mean?”

“Why should I believe you ?”

There’s an accusation there. A sliver of something nasty.

“It’s the truth, and I don’t care whether you believe me or not.” This is personal. She doesn’t know me, she’s referring to me being the help, and not part of her clique. I wish Celine were here. I feel like the mob has turned on me and Brooke with pitchforks. “Come on, Brooke. Let's go home.” They obviously don’t believe me, and there’s nothing else I can say, so it’s better to leave.

Brooke is somber on the way home, and I feel terrible for her. I tell her that she's done nothing wrong and shouldn't feel bad. I still feel awful for her, because Madison seems to be popular. And because Brooke isn't a regular member of this club, it’s easier to vilify her. Celine did warn me, and I wish I'd taken her number. I have so many questions I'd like to ask her. I’d also like to know more about Jett's mother.

At least, I’ve now learned that this house was named after her.

As we head back, Brooke remains downcast, but I'm determined to cheer her up. Entering her room, I see a few large boxes on the floor and big folded heap of material.

“My tent!” Brooke cries. It's the first burst of excitement I've had from her in the last hour.

“We're going to put it up right now!” I want to cheer her up fast and make her forget all the ugliness of the day. Quickly opening the boxes, I discover fairy lights, a large fluffy blanket, and some pillows.

“Can I help you put it up?”

“I’m not doing this alone.”

Her smile reaches her eyes now, and I feel so much better. The tent is easy enough to erect. Lots of pieces connect together with a click, and in no time, we've put up a large dome-shaped tent.

“I love it!” Brooke cries gleefully, crawling into it.

“It's pretty cool.” I can see how much fun this would be. We lay down the fluffy blanket and put in the pillows. Once inside, I string up the fairy lights.

We both lay on the blanket, looking around us.

“Feels like a magical little place, doesn't it?”

“I love it. Please can I sleep here tonight?”

“I don’t see why you can’t.” If she doesn’t like it, she’ll climb into her bed.

She turns and hugs me, burying her face into my chest as her small hands press against me. I kiss the top of her head. The memory of her being accused of breaking the doll, of Madison being so nasty to her, fills me with rage, and I hope that tent being up will wipe that nasty episode from Brooke’s mind.

Still, something niggles me. Why would Madison only blame Brooke? She seemed so sure of it, but Brooke wasn't the only one to leave and go to the bathroom. As I ponder the reasons behind this deviousness, Brooke crawls out, reappearing seconds later with her tattered elephant and a few books.

We snuggle in our own fairy-lit kingdom as I read to her.

Later, Ruby comes up and tells Brooke that her Daddy is home and would like to have dinner with her. “And you, too, Miss,” Ruby says, as I head towards my room.

“Oh, I’m not too hungry yet,” I say.

I am hungry, because I didn’t have any lunch, but I would like Brooke and Jett to have time together. Also, I’m not too keen on joining him for dinner. Last night put a sour taste in my mouth and I want to limit my contact with him.

I respond to a text from Jacques. He texted me about a pool party on Saturday night.

It could be fun. I don't know him, but he seems pleasant enough, and from our short conversation the other night, we seem to like the same movies and TV shows and read the same authors. My gut tells me he's a good guy. So, why not? Why not go to a pool party in Bermuda and enjoy an evening off?

I'm on the phone to Eliana, telling her about my day and what's been going on. Mostly about the private home cinema after sending her the pictures. She says I’m making her jealous.

“Anything happen? Anything we should dissect or analyze?” she asks, with a hint of mystery in her tone.

“Nothing,” I reply noncommittedly.

“How’s vacationing with your boss?”

“Ugh–haven’t really seen him much. He’s busy working.” No point telling her about the cocktail incident at the barbecue.

But my plans for a quiet evening are interrupted when there’s another knock on my door. It’s Ruby. “Sorry to disturb you again, Miss, but Mr. Knight needs to see you in the library.”

“In the library?” I frown. It’s not dinner then.

“The library. Yes, Miss.”

“I've been summoned,” I tell Eliana.

“Exciting.” She giggles, obviously having overheard. “Isn’t that what you’ve always dreamed of?”

“Not really.” I rub my temple trying to make sense of the sudden invitation.

Why now? Why to the library?

Then it dawns on me.

He's already found out about what happened at Madison's. How, I don't know.

“I'll call you later,” I say to Eliana then hang up.

Smoothing down my unruly hair and my dress, I check my reflection in the mirror, making sure I look somewhat presentable. Then I head downstairs and straight for the library, a heavy stone turning in my stomach. I haven't seen Jett since last night, since he apologized to me. I'm beginning to prefer it that way, because it makes things easy.

Even being at Abigail's, with the other moms talking about me, was bearable. Meeting Jett in the library is not.

I used to dream of moments like this, but now it feels weird. This is not a world I could inhabit. I miss Eliana, and suddenly, I miss my mom. I really miss my aunt. I feel the urge to call her later, but if I do, she'll just get worried, and I don't want to worry her. She already worries enough about me.

With a deep breath, I walk in. It's the library, not his office, so I don't knock. Our eyes meet and my heart flips.

He’s having that effect on me.

Again.

Even now.

If ads affect your reading experience, click here to remove ads on this page.