Chapter Six
Jennifer
What does a nanny do when no one is home?
I can't speak for all nannies. But me? I do the most boring things for two and half hours.
I sweep the kitchen floor, wipe down the counters, and organize the spice rack that's in complete disarray.
I stumble onto several jars of cinnamon, though one seems unusually empty.
What happened to the rest of it? Don't think I'll plumb that mystery just yet.
Then I clean up the living room, vacuuming the carpet that's covered in what looks like glitter and Cheerios.
Someone has built a fort with sofa cushions in the corner, which I carefully dismantle and reconstruct properly.
It's clearly Henry's work---there's a hand-drawn sign that says "NO GIRLS ALLOWED" taped to one of the pillows.
I find myself smiling as I fold a pile of clean laundry that's been sitting in a basket for who knows how long.
There's something soothing about bringing order to the chaos, like I'm already carving out my place in this household.
After tidying up, I unpack my meager belongings in my new attic sanctuary.
Two suitcases contain my entire life---clothes neatly folded, a few cherished books, and the small wooden box my grandmother gave me before she passed away.
Not much to show for twenty-eight years on this earth, but I've always traveled light.
My phone buzzes with a text from Fletcher: Running late. Children should be home any minute. Good luck.
Any minute?!? Holy shit! Thanks for the head's up, boss man. I hadn't realized I'd been tidying up for three hours. I do fall into a Zen trance-like state whenever I clean. Still, I would've appreciated a longer lag time before the barbarians descend.
Right on cue, I hear the front-door latch click into place, followed by the thunderous noise of backpacks hitting the floor and voices talking over each other. I'm careful not to intrude too much. This isn't my home yet.
Then the door bursts open, and four children tumble inside.
"Dad?" A boy's voice, cracking slightly.
I walk toward the front hallway, my heart beating faster than it should. This is it---my first real test as the new caregiver for these kids. As I round the corner of the hallway, I call out, "Your dad's still at work, sweetie. I'm Jennifer, your new nanny. Didn't your daddy tell you?"
Four pairs of eyes gape at me from the entryway. The oldest boy---Joshua, I assume---stands protectively in front of his siblings like a miniature bodyguard. He's tall for thirteen, with Fletcher's dark hair and the kind of serious expression that makes him seem older than his years.
"Where's Dad?" he asks, suspicion coloring his voice.
"At the hotel. He'll be home soon." I keep my voice calm and friendly. "You must be Joshua."
He nods curtly, then gestures to his siblings. "Charlotte, Amelia, Henry."
Charlotte steps forward, her chin jutting out defiantly. She's wearing a T-shirt emblazoned with the logo of a soccer team, the Millbrook Valley Mustangs. The logo includes a soccer ball and, naturally, a wild mustang.
"Are you the new nanny?" she asks, eyeing me up and down like I'm a specimen under a microscope.
"Yes, I am." I smile, trying not to show how nervous I actually am. "Your dad hired me this morning. I thought he must've told you."
"Probably forgot. Dad's scatterbrained sometimes."
"I can understand that. He works very hard, doesn't he?" When Charlotte nods, I add, "I'm here to help your dad---and all of you. How does that sound?"
Charlotte shrugs. "Sounds okay, I guess."
I smile and touch her arm gently. "I bet we'll be friends very soon."
"Did you sign a contract?" Amelia pipes up from behind her brother. She's the oldest at fifteen and has blonde hair. "The last nanny didn't sign a contract, and she only lasted two weeks."
"Yes, I did sign a contract. I'm here for the long haul."
The youngest---Henry---peeks out from behind Joshua. His eyes are so wide they seem ready to burst out of their sockets. "Are you gonna stay?"
His whisper somehow carries across the entire living room.
My heart melts a little at his question. "I'm going to try my very best to stay, Henry."
"The last nanny said that too," Amelia mutters, but there's more hurt than hostility in her voice.
I crouch down to Henry's eye level, ignoring the way my skirt bunches awkwardly. "You know what? I don't blame you for being suspicious. But I'm different from the other nannies."
"How?" Joshua crosses his arms, still playing the role of family protector.
"Well, for starters, I reorganized your spice cabinet and found some jars of cinnamon. The biggest one was almost empty. That's either a sign of extreme dedication to baking or complete chaos. I'm betting on chaos."
Joshua cocks his head to one side, considering me. "Dad says we're not allowed to have cinnamon after The Incident."
"The Incident?" I raise an eyebrow.
"Henry climbed onto a stool to get a bottle of cinnamon, but he dropped it and the cinnamon got all over his hair and even in his nose." Charlotte explains. "He sneezed it all over Dad's work laptop and got in deep doo-doo for destroying it."
I bite my lip to keep from laughing. "Well, that explains the empty cinnamon jar in the cupboard. Maybe we should stick to sugar from now on when we bake. It's easier to vacuum up."
This earns me a tiny smile from Henry, who's still partially hidden behind Joshua.
"Are you guys hungry?" I ask, glancing at the clock. "I could make a snack while we wait for your dad."
"We always have cookies after school," Henry pipes up, suddenly more animated.
Amelia sighs dramatically. "Henry, we don't always have cookies. Dad says too much sugar makes you bounce off the walls."
"But I bounce really good," Henry argues, demonstrating with a little hop that nearly knocks over an umbrella stand.
I catch it just in time, steadying both the stand and Henry with one practiced move. "Careful there, buddy. How about we compromise? Cookies today to celebrate my first day, and something healthier tomorrow?"
Joshua narrows his eyes. "You're trying to bribe us."
"Absolutely," I admit with a grin. "Is it working?"
A reluctant smile tugs at his lips. "Maybe."
I lead the parade of suspicious children into the kitchen, where I'd already spotted a package of chocolate chip cookies in the pantry. As I arrange them on a plate, four pairs of eyes study my every move.
"Where are these cookies from?" Charlotte asks, peering at the package like she's conducting a forensic investigation.
"Your pantry," I assure her. "I found them while I was cleaning up."
"Dad doesn't usually let us have the good cookies," she continues, still suspicious but accepting the treat from me.
"Well, today's special." I pour four glasses of milk, noting how they all watch me move around their kitchen. "Tell me about school. How was your day?"
Henry immediately launches into an animated story about how his teacher, Mrs. Patterson, brought her pet hamster to class and it escaped, causing what he describes as "total hamster mayhem.
" His hands wave dramatically as he reenacts the great hamster hunt, complete with sound effects.
When Henry shares a story from school, I always end up laughing at his performance.
"You're not gonna tell us to use our 'indoor voices,' are you?" Charlotte asks, watching me intently.
"Nope. I'm more concerned with the hamster's safety than noise levels." I wink at Henry who grins back, cookie crumbs dotting his chin.
Amelia picks at her cookie, breaking it into tiny pieces. "So, how long are you actually planning to stay?"
Her tone suggests she doesn't believe I'll stick around for more than a day and a half.
I meet her gaze directly. "Until you guys are sick of me or your dad fires me. Whichever comes first."
"That could be tomorrow," Joshua warns, but I notice he's on his second cookie.
"Could be," I agree. "But I hope not. I just got unpacked, and it would be a real pain packing everything up again."
Henry tugs at my sleeve, his eyes wide. "Did you know I can burp the alphabet? Wanna hear?"
"Henry!" Charlotte groans. "That's disgusting."
"I'd actually be impressed," I say, trying not to laugh at Charlotte's horrified expression. "But maybe save that particular talent for outside, okay, Henry?"
He beams at me like I've just handed him the keys to a candy store. "You're not like the other nannies."
"I'll take that as a compliment." I wipe a milk mustache from his upper lip with my thumb. The gesture seems natural, like I've been doing it for years instead of minutes.
Joshua watches this interaction with narrowed eyes. "The last nanny cried when Henry showed his pet worms to her."
"Worms don't scare me," I assure him, though I'm not exactly eager to meet Henry's slimy friends. "I grew up on a farm in Arkansas. I've seen plenty worse than worms."
That seems to impress the boys, especially Joshua. "A farm girl, huh? That's cool."
"Tell me more about these pet worms," I say to Henry, whose face lights up as if I've just offered him a lifetime supply of ice cream.
"They live in my special dirt box! I named them all after superheroes. The fattest one is Hulk." He bounces on his toes. "Wanna see them?"
The front door opens, and all the banter goes quiet.
I swivel my head around to see Fletcher shutting the door. He seems harried, as if his employees caused him trouble today. I smile brightly at him. "Welcome home, Fletcher. The kids and I were just having a little snack. Want a cookie?"
I hold one out toward him, but he shakes his head.
Henry rushes up to his father, offering him a one-third eaten cookie. "They're soooo good, Dad!"
Fletcher looks exhausted, his tie slightly askew and his hair more disheveled than when he left. But when Henry beams up at him with that chocolate-smudged grin, his entire expression softens.
"Thank you, mate," he says, accepting the mangled cookie and taking a small bite. "Mmm, delicious."
Henry giggles and bounces back to his seat. I notice the way Fletcher's eyes sweep the kitchen, taking in the clean counters and organized space. His gaze lingers on me for just a moment longer than necessary, and heat rushes through me.
"How did it go, Jennifer?" he asks, loosening his tie and then removing it completely.
"Great. We've just been getting to know each other." When he rolls up his sleeves, exposing muscular biceps, I swear my mouth waters. "We've covered hamster escapes, pet worms, and the great cinnamon disaster."
Fletcher rubs his neck. "Could you mind the children while I have a shower?"
"Of course. That's what I'm here for."