Chapter 11 #3
“I promised I’d try.” On the far side of the glass, Charlotte executed a twirl, her form enthusiastic if far from perfect. “How’s she doing?”
“She loves it. Look at her.”
Charlotte’s face was radiant with joy. She was happy and safe. He wasn’t messing this up too badly.
“The studio is planning a recital for Christmas,” Miss Wright said. “Her class will all be snowflakes.”
He pictured his niece in a white tutu, arms outstretched like delicate ice crystals. The image made him smile.
“She’s very serious about it,” Miss Wright said. “She asked me to help her practice her snow dance at home.”
The casual way she mentioned home, as if it were as much hers as his, sent another unwelcome jolt through him. She’d settled so naturally into their lives, into Charlotte’s heart—and if he were honest, into his own thoughts far too often. What would happen when she left for Maine?
What had Lena seen the night before? Had his inappropriate affection shown in his expression?
He needed to stop thinking such thoughts about the nanny. Or at least, when that proved impossible, do better at hiding them.
The music stopped, and the instructor gathered the girls into a circle. Charlotte plopped down cross-legged next to a little redheaded girl, who whispered in her ear.
“That’s Shanyn,” Miss Wright said. “Her new ‘favoritest’ friend.”
“This was a good idea. Thank you for signing her up.”
“She likes it.”
The girls stood again, fanning out across the room to practice a series of arm movements that looked utterly random.
“Oh.” Miss Wright shifted, pulling out her phone. “I’m glad you’re here. There’s something I wanted to show you.” She found her photos, then held the screen toward him. “I took this earlier. It was probably nothing, but I got the feeling… It seems silly now.”
Noah studied the image, taken at the park, which showed a dark sedan with tinted windows parked along the road.
Not the SUV he’d seen the night before. Did Lena have two cars?
There was no front license plate, a red flag. “What happened?”
“Nothing, really. I saw it on Magnolia Street, then on Cedar, then again there, across from the playground.”
“You were followed?” His heart thumped erratically.
“Maybe?” She shrugged one shoulder. “Or maybe I was being paranoid.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, a gesture he was beginning to recognize as nervous. “A friend I met at the park—”
“What friend?”
Miss Wright’s eyes widened.
“Sorry, I don’t mean…” He took a breath to calm down. “Of course you can meet friends at the park.”
“Um, okay.” Her tone shifted back to that insecure one she’d used a lot when she’d first moved into his house. “I’d seen her at the park before, and we got to talking. I told her about the car, and she suggested it could be a delivery driver or something. The car was gone when we left, so maybe—”
“You should have told me right away.”
The woman on Miss Wright’s other side glanced in his direction. He needed to lower his voice.
Miss Wright was more careful, speaking at one click above a whisper. “I know you don’t like to be bothered at work, so—”
“I never said that.”
She blinked. “Oh. I guess I just…assumed.”
“Don’t make assumptions about what I want. I told you to let me know if you had any suspicions. I meant it.”
She faced forward again. “You’re right. I just talked myself into believing it was nothing.”
“Maybe it was.” His heart was racing. This day was going to send him into cardiac arrest.
He didn’t recognize the car in the photo. It probably hadn’t been following her. It probably hadn’t been anyone who had anything to do with Charlotte or himself or Miss Wright.
But there’d been someone watching Charlotte the day he’d hired Miss Wright, or so she’d thought. And there’d been that break-in.
Lena had called the morning after that. And she’d shown up this afternoon.
Keeping his voice low, he asked, “What’s your new friend’s name?”
“Heather.”
“What does she look like?”
“Dark, curly hair. Attractive. About my age.”
That could describe thousands of women in Virginia alone. Or it could describe Lena.
He pulled his phone from his pocket, navigated to Facebook, and found Lena’s profile. He clicked on her photo and showed it to Miss Wright. “Is that her?”
She studied the photo, then shook her head. “No. Heather’s hair is naturally curly. That woman’s curls come from an iron.”
“How do you know?”
She smiled. “I have four sisters, Mr. Aylett. Trust me, I know my way around hair. Besides, Heather’s much more down-to-earth looking than”—she glanced at the screen—“Lena Monroe. Less sophisticated.”
“You’re sure.”
“Completely. But if you want to see for yourself, I’m meeting her at the park on Thursday morning. Feel free to come check her out. It’s not like it would be the first time you’ve ‘accidentally’ been there at the same time as us.” She made quotes with her fingers.
Ah. And here he’d thought he’d gotten away with checking up on them. “Sorry, I—”
“I get it, especially after your former nanny’s behavior. It’s a weighty thing to be responsible for a child.”
“You’re right, it is.” He was so thankful that Charlotte had a nanny who understood. He watched the little girls on the dance floor, debating. Decision made, he leaned toward her. “That woman whose photo I just showed you?”
“What about her?”
“She’s kind of a”—he felt stupid saying the word aloud but forced it out—“stalker. She thinks she and I are…fated to be together.” He glanced Miss Wright’s way, confirming that he had her full attention.
“If you ever feel like you’re being watched again, please let me know immediately.
And don’t be afraid to call the police.”
“I will.”
“And if you ever see Lena, assume she wants trouble, and keep your distance.”
Miss Wright looked at him and held his eye contact. “Do I need to be worried?”
“Just watchful, please.” He’d do enough worrying for the both of them.