Chapter 4
FOUR
Double-checking the address from the nanny agency on my phone, I stop in front of a large iron gate with a security guard booth next to it. The road beyond the gate swerves to the right and out of sight, hiding the house—or houses—beyond it. No wonder Lacey Wilde had been so thorough with her initial interviews and background checks. I thought maybe it was a little much for a nanny job, but Amanda reminded me that she serves an elite clientele only and wouldn’t even pass my name on to interview with individual clients until I’d passed her rigorous vetting process.
“Driver’s license,” the gate guard says, holding out his hand. I grab my purse from the passenger seat, and after pulling it out of my wallet, I hand over the identification.
He goes into the booth behind him and makes a phone call. Who are these people? Maybe I’m in over my head. Am I interviewing for a family where I have to be constantly monitored by a bodyguard while watching the kids? This is a lot more than I expected.
The guard comes back out of the booth and hands me my license. “You’re cleared. Once the gate opens, follow the road in and it’ll be the fifth house on the right.”
So, it’s a very high-end gated community and not an individual house. Okay, that makes a little more sense and makes me feel slightly less intimidated.
What he should’ve explained was that even from the gate, it’s another seven minutes before I get to the house because of how spread out all of the homes are. I follow his directions and pull into the fifth driveway. The house has a modern black painted exterior with lush greenery surrounding it. The yard is well maintained, and I don’t expect any less for this neighborhood. I get out of my car and walk to the front door, trying to calm the erratic beating of my heart. I’m much more nervous than I thought I’d be for a nanny job.
I ring the doorbell and wait. Laughter—the kind that only comes from happy little kids—filters through the closed door and brings a smile to my face. When the mahogany wood door swings open, a woman answers. The wrinkles around her eyes are prominent as she smiles at me. There’s gray in her shoulder-length black hair, which is the only other sign of her age. Immediately, I feel at ease with her.
“Hi, I’m Meredith Gable. I’m here for the nanny interview.”
“Of course. I’m Larissa Brooks.” A child’s giggle comes from behind her and her smile widens. “And this little nugget is my granddaughter, Kaylee.”
A little girl who can’t be much older than three or four looks around her grandmother’s legs, most of her body still hidden. Her light brown eyes almost sparkle as she watches me with curiosity. Her curly hair is up in two pigtails, and she’s got a smudge of what appears to be jelly on her cheek.
I squat down. “Hey, Kaylee. I’m Meredith. It’s so nice to meet you.” I can’t help smiling at her because she’s absolutely adorable.
She glances up at her grandma and then back at me, and her lips tilt up in the shyest smile I’ve ever seen. “Hi,” she whispers.
“Why don’t you come on in and we’ll get started on the interview,” Mrs. Brooks says.
I stand and follow them through the house which is so much warmer on the inside than it appears on the outside. Everything is in the same mahogany wood as the door, or bright white. It feels cozy and welcoming, while the outside felt dark and imposing.
Mrs. Brooks leads me to the living room, and I take a seat on a dark green couch. It’s the only pop of color in the room, and I must stare at it too long because Mrs. Brooks says, “My daughter loved having random colorful furniture to break up the wood and white.”
It’s the use of past tense that catches my attention and my stomach clenches.
Her eyes turn down and her hand runs over the top of Kaylee’s head. “She passed away shortly after Kay was born.”
I swallow thickly and look at Kaylee. She’s probably still too young to fully grasp the loss, but she’ll understand it soon. I was five when I first truly felt the loss of my mother. I’d been in kindergarten and a boy had asked why my family drawing only had me and my dad in it. I’d never thought all that hard about it before I started school.
I want to ask more, but I know how personal that kind of loss can be. So, instead, I say, “I’m so sorry. I lost my mother when I was born.”
Mrs. Brooks’s eyes widen in surprise and her mouth parts. “You did?”
I nod.
“I’m so sorry for your loss.” She says it the way people do when they’ve also experienced great loss and know those words won’t offer much comfort, but it’s the least you can say. She glances down at Kaylee before sitting down across from me and pulling her into her lap.
“So, Meredith, why don’t you tell us a little bit about yourself.”
“Well, I’m a southern California native and just graduated from UCLA with a degree in kinesiology. I babysat kids ranging from two to ten throughout high school and occasionally during college. I’ve got my First Aid and CPR certification. In my free time, I love being active—hiking, playing sports, going to the beach, things like that.”
“Do you also watch sports?” Mrs. Brooks asks, and there’s a weight to the question like my answer will either work in my favor or against me.
“I do occasionally with my dad. He’s a big baseball and football fan.”
“An LA Wolves fan?”
I smile fondly and nod. “Pretty much any local team has my dad’s die-hard support.”
“And if you met a football player? How would you react?”
I think I get why she’s asking. Houses like this one are usually reserved for celebrities, and in LA that can definitely include athletes. “I’m not as big of a football fan as I am baseball, so I would probably react like I’m meeting anyone else. Now if I met a Dodgers player, I might get a little fangirly.”
Her shoulders relax and she carries on asking questions. The interview lasts for another hour, and by the end of it, I’m not even sure she’s interviewing me anymore because we’re talking about all kinds of things that don’t seem to have to do with the job, like my last hike or my favorite bookstore that’s a hole in the wall in one of the many strip malls around Los Angeles.
“Well, Meredith, I think you’ve answered all of my questions. Do you have any questions for me? ”
“Actually, I have a question for Kaylee, if that’s okay?”
Kaylee has been sitting quietly on her grandmother’s lap the entire time, watching me with keen eyes that I suspect see a lot more than the adults around her think. But unlike most children I’ve met her age, she hasn’t squirmed or shown any desire to get down and play. She watched and listened like a small adult.
But at my statement, she perks up.
“What’s your favorite thing to do?”
“Color,” she says, her voice still soft although she’s no longer whispering.
“What’s your favorite thing to color?”
She hops down and runs over to a small kids’ table in the corner of the room. She grabs a piece of paper and comes running back. It’s a picture of a very popular Blue Heeler cartoon.
My smile grows. “Can I tell you a secret?”
She nods slowly and leans forward when I do.
“I love this show.”
Her face lights up with a huge smile, and I swear my heart melts into a puddle on the floor. I smile wide at her and spend the next few minutes talking about the show with her. I’m sure Mrs. Brooks is watching, but my attention is focused solely on the sweet little girl who I know without a doubt I’ll fall in love with if I get this job. It would be impossible not to.
She also reminds me a bit of myself when I was little.Quiet and reserved, but very observant and curious.
When our conversation reaches a natural lull, Mrs. Brooks says, “I wanted to make sure you understand this would be a live-in nanny position. My son-in-law has to go out of town for work fairly often, and it’d be best to have someone living here to make things easier on Kaylee.”
“I understand, and living here wouldn’t be a problem. I’m living back at home with my dad now. ”
She smiles. “Great. We have a few more interviews this afternoon, but we’ll make a decision by the end of the week and give you a call either way.”
I love how she includes Kaylee in the process. “Sounds great. It was so wonderful to meet you both.”
“You too,” she says as she walks with me to the door.
I turn back and squat down again. “It was nice to meet you, Miss Kaylee.”
Her smile is the widest I’ve seen it yet, and it makes me feel ten feet tall because I get the sense she doesn’t smile this big for just anyone.
“Bye, Miss Mere.”
I laugh softly at the shortened version of my name. To be fair, Meredith is probably hard for a three-year-old to say. Then I walk out and leave, hoping it won’t be the last time I get to see that sweet little girl.