Chapter 2
Maya
I have a problem.
She’s four feet, three inches of sass, snark, and impressive intellect.
But as of this moment, I’m officially off the clock.
Free.
Arabella Hartwell has been running my life for the last nine months, but now my little demon ward is with her parents for Christmas vacation, and me?
I intend to head home to my rat hole of an apartment, lie in my squeaky bed, and drown myself in Hallmark chick flicks where no one will ask me to cut the crusts off their sandwiches or pull pranks on me for six beautiful days.
It’s going to be perfect.
My apartment is no billionaire penthouse, but there’s something about the familiarity of home and being surrounded by personal effects that provides the ultimate relaxation.
“Off for the week, I hear?” Henry, the doorman, greets me as I step outside into the mostly clear day. There are a few clouds on the horizon, but I’m sure they’ll pass us right by.
“Yes, I am.” I hold out a paper sack containing half a dozen mini sausage-and-egg quiches from the Hartwell’s untouched breakfast spread. Henry grabs the bag, his weathered hands fumbling with the tie before he manages to open it. “You’re my favorite nanny.”
“I bet you say that to all the nannies.”
“I assure you I’ve never said that before.
They’ve picked some duds,” he says, taking a bite.
A piece of flaky crust falls onto his uniform, and I dust it off for him, internally debating if I deserve to be in the ‘dud’ category.
This was not my life goal. Ten years ago, I would have pictured myself in the Egyptian desert, discovering artifacts lost to the world.
But here I am instead. A disgraced archeologist turned nanny.
I’m somehow both over- and underqualified for this position, but that may be because of the complicated child.
“How’s Eleanor?” I ask about his beloved wife of forty-five years, the one he never stops talking about. Men like Henry can make even a bitter fool like me want to believe in love again.
“She’s wonderful. Excited to get to Hawaii this Christmas.” He polishes off his quiche, and I link my arm through his as the new doorman comes on duty, relieving him for the holiday.
“I’m so happy for you.” I would love to be flying thousands of miles away from this place. “Don’t forget to take pictures. And try everything.” I give him a pointed look.
“Already booked us a snorkeling tour, and I bought her a pearl necklace.” He pats the top of my hand.
“She’s going to love it. Have a great trip.” I lean up on my toes and press a kiss to his weathered cheek.
“Merry Christmas, Penny.” He tips his hat and toddles off down the street.
I start off in the opposite direction as the ever-present knot in my stomach coils tighter. For one blissful moment, I managed to forget.
Forget the lie.
I had no other choice. I couldn’t get a job with my real name.
Then I lied about my name and poof! Got the first job I applied for: nannying for a family wealthier than 90 percent of the population but too desperate to run a more thorough background check.
I thought it was too good to be true until I met Bella.
Then I quickly understood how they had gone through thirty-seven nannies in the last three years.
I’m currently the reigning champion, having held my position for almost nine months. I guess I’m just as desperate.
I step around a young family as they pause to admire the Rockefeller tree. All around me are couples and families together for the holiday, and I’m overtly aware I’m nothing but a fly on the wall, trying to soak up all the holiday goodness I can.
The wind picks up, bringing with it the smell of fresh cinnamon, and I purchase a spicy hot chocolate from the least crowded street vendor. The chocolate tastes sweeter, probably because I don’t have to lie about who I am for the next week.
I eye the window displays as I walk, drooling over the antique sapphire necklace in my favorite thrift store.
It’s set next to a gold pendant with intersecting bees that almost appears to be a Minoan influence.
It’s a knockoff, though. An extra bee where there shouldn’t be.
My gaze slips to the sapphire necklace. The price tag is light-years out of my range, and I continue home with only a dream.
The elevator drops me off on floor eleven. It hasn’t been able to go higher for the last two months, and I head to the dimly lit stairwell. I’m out of breath and sweating through my thin coat by the time I make it to the fifteenth floor.
I need food and a nap… not necessarily in that order.
I shove my key in the door, feeling like I’m about to pass through a portal in time back to before my life imploded.
No such luck. But it is quiet—always a good sign when one has three roommates living in a space of approximately five hundred square feet.
Jin and Sophie went home for the holidays, wherever that home is.
We don’t talk much. I’m praying Katie went anywhere that will take her, but the only place I know of is hell.
That sounds mean, and I’m trying to be kinder in this giving season. That being said, it would be so much easier if I never had to see her again.
We used to be friends. We met at the museum we both worked at; she hooked me up with this…
mediocre living situation, but then I made a grave mistake.
I dated the guy she had her heart set on.
Then I made an even bigger mistake… I found an engraved gold ring at the bottom of the European incense burner she was in charge of cataloguing.
She got demoted, and I became her superior.
She didn’t let that stand long before she completely upended my life, getting me fired and tainting my name in one fell swoop. Yet my downfall still hasn’t satisfied her, and she’s made my life a living nightmare. Every time I come home from work, there is a new threat waiting for me.
Move out or else.
You owe me.
I can’t imagine what I could possibly owe her when she’s taken everything from me. Every time I turn around, she wants more. My food, my clothes, more money for rent…
Last week while I was at the Hartwells, she called me. She’d found out where I worked and threatened to tell them the truth about me.
I’ve been living on pins and needles ever since, waiting for her to take the last, final piece of my life from me.
I pat the small wad of cash in my pocket. Combined with my savings stashed in my room, I officially have enough to move out. Then she will never get the upper hand on me again.
The lights are off, and our tiny apartment is devoid of all Christmas decor. Not surprising, seeing as how we don’t decorate for anything. Worse, though, is the smell. It’s one part old building and two parts garbage. No one took out the trash. Again.
My shoulders slump as I shut the door behind me. I was so excited to get home until I remembered what “home” is.
The home where I wanted to be is in Connecticut with my family, like always.
But Mom and Dad decided that since they had successfully endured thirty years of parenthood, they would reward themselves with a cruise for Christmas.
They deserve it; they really do. They barely survived my little brothers.
When my brothers heard Christmas was canceled, they booked a ski trip to Aspen. Emotionless robots.
I wander into the kitchen in search of a snack, but the fridge is nearly bare. I find a granola bar in the cupboard and rip it open, dropping the wrapper in the trash.
Someone threw away the newspaper, and there on the cover is my boss, Mr. Hartwell, who I’ve yet to meet.
I peel it out, inspecting it for rotting food, but it’s clean. I drop it on the table to read later while I eat. Something about a physical paper makes me feel educated and classy. But first, I need to change.
I drag my tired body down the hall and open the door to my closet-sized room.
My heart stops beating, and then it beats too loud, practically echoing off the brick walls around me because my room… is empty. Stripped bare.
I flick on the light, willing it to bring me a different view, but it only illuminates all that’s missing—all I’ve officially lost.
No, no, no. This is not happening.
Everything is gone, even my mattress. All that remains is my old bed frame, currently being held together by pink duct tape, and my dead succulent in the twelve-inch window.
We were robbed. Unless they moved me out because I haven’t been around in so long. I paid rent last month, right?
I run across the hall to Jin and Sophie’s room.
It’s just as I remember, which means… Only one person hates me enough to do this.
I turn to Katie’s room.
It’s a desolate island; she won’t be returning. Her clothes, once strewn about the room, have vanished. Her easel and all her artwork are gone.
Only now do I realize the kitchen and living room are devoid of anything worth money that once belonged to me. My only remaining contribution to this apartment is the ripped throw pillow in the corner of the ugly yellow couch.
My chest feels too tight, and the backs of my eyes sting. I stumble to my room in a daze. Everything can’t be gone. It can’t.
Pain shoots through my knees as I collapse to the floor and pry open the crack in the floorboards where I hid my money—a.k.a my only hope for the future—and my few valuables. One valuable, really: the ring that has always meant more to me than any other possession.
A shallow, empty hole is all I find.
Nothing. I drag my hands around every inch of the crevice, searching for the ring. It’s gone, along with everything else.
I have nothing left.
Propped against the foot of the bedframe is something I missed before. A large rolled-up piece of paper, and a note. I snatch the note, ripping it open to find the familiar loopy handwriting of my roommate.
If you want your stuff back, you know what to do.
Katie
She. Is. The. Devil.
Tears slip down my face as my new reality sinks in. It’s all gone. Every last hope and dream. Nothing remains of my shattered life.
My phone rings, the sound yanking me from my heartache.
Arabella Hartwell’s name flashes on the screen like a warning light, a sign that disaster is imminent. But I feel like it already came.