9. Nova
9
NOVA
M y little car sputtered up the long driveway to Bryan and Amelia’s mansion. It was just so large, I couldn’t begin to contemplate what the square footage was. I was pretty sure my parents’ house, their neighbor’s house, and the house next to that would all have fit under the roof of this mansion. I knew the kitchen was larger than my entire apartment. Granted, my apartment was tiny and that kitchen was huge.
It was spacious and it was a delight to work in. So much counter space and all top of the line appliances. The dishwasher was a dream. I didn’t have to pre-wash everything. I rinsed the dishes and set them in, and the garbage was in a drawer, not a garbage can behind a cupboard door, but in an actual drawer. When I had asked Bryan about it, he told me not to worry about the garbage, that it would be taken care of.
I parked around back near the kitchen entrance. I had a key code that let me in without setting off any alarms. When I walked into the kitchen, Bryan was there drinking coffee and slowly scrolling through his phone.
“Good morning,” I said.
He grumbled something. I guess he wasn’t a morning person.
I set my bags down on the counter and went straight to the garbage drawer.
I slid the drawer open. “Amazing,” I said. He was right, there was no garbage. It had been taken care of as if the house had garbage fairies.
“What’s amazing?” Bryan asked.
“The garbage is gone,” I announced.
“And that’s amazing?” he asked without looking up from his phone.
“I’m pretty sure you didn’t take it out. Did you?”
He laughed. “Do I look like I take out garbage?”
“No, and I didn’t take out the garbage and it’s gone. That’s why I said it’s amazing.”
“The house cleaner took out the garbage,” he said with a shake of his head.
“I figured you had a cleaner,” I admitted, but I hadn’t seen anyone, so I didn’t know for certain. And making assumptions always turned out poorly.
I pulled out my laptop and some extra arts and crafts supplies that I had brought for Amelia, now that I was doing double duty as cook and part-time nanny. I wanted to make sure I was fully supplied for my day.
“Any special requests for lunch or dinner tonight?”
Bryan shrugged. “That soup you made yesterday was good. I’m sure we’ll be fine with anything.”
“Is Amelia up yet?” I asked.
“Probably not. If she were, she would be demanding all of your time.” He set down his phone and watched as I moved the art supplies over to the table before carrying my coat and bags to a small closet where I could hang them.
The fact that there was a coat closet in the kitchen for the back door was nearly mind-blowing. My mother was always complaining about never having enough closet space, and here I was hanging my stuff in a closet for the back door. Or I should say a back door. I was certain there were more ways in and out of the house. I had only been shown this one.
“She doesn’t seem to want any more attention than any other kid I’ve met,” I said when I stepped back into the kitchen.
“That’s all she wants, attention,” Bryan said.
“Of course. She’s a kid. They all want attention.”
“Yeah, and yet, you were able to get your work done with her around,” he said. “How did you do that? If she wasn’t demanding of your time?—”
“I didn’t say she wasn’t demanding of my time. I was able to do both. There’s a balance,” I said. “For starters, I’m not her parent. You are. She wants to know she matters to you. Look, not to butt into your business, but if her mother isn’t around, she is going to want more attention from you. You’re her father.”
“I don’t think that’s it. I think she just wants attention.”
I had to bite my tongue. Amelia sounded like she was starved for attention and affection. Her grandmother had dropped her off without letting Bryan know. And from what Bryan was saying, Amelia needed more attention than he could or was willing to give her.
“I was able to keep Amelia busy and working on some projects while we kept each other company. I could get the cooking I needed to get done, and she had an appropriate amount of attention.”
“At some point in time, you’re going to have to tell me how you do that.” He stood and carried his coffee cup to the sink. “I can’t seem to be able to get any work done whenever she’s around.”
“I could make some wild guesses as to why that’s happening, but there’s so many possibilities that I’m not even going to begin. You have to figure out what works best for you.”
“Amelia likes to talk,” he said.
“Yes, she does. We spent a lot of time talking yesterday. But talking doesn’t interfere with my cooking. I don’t know what kind of work you do or if you’re on the phone all the time, but that could be one aspect to consider.”
He glanced down at his watch. “Well, speaking of having to be on phones, I do have a conference call scheduled. Have a good day.” He started to walk out of the kitchen.
“Couple of quick questions, Bryan, before you go.”
He turned, his eyebrows raised.
“Do I have to wake Amelia up, or will she wake up and come down on her own?”
“She’ll come down on her own.”
“Great. Exactly how interruptible are you? Not at all, or is the unconscious and bleeding rule an absolute?”
He pondered that question for a moment. “Not an absolute, but try to keep the interruptions to a minimum.”
I nodded. “Do you need me to let you know when she’s woken up?”
“A quick text wouldn’t hurt.”
“I can do that.”
“What time do you want lunch? Or…?” I let the question hang.
“I’m not sure. I’ll come in when I’m hungry,” he said.
Okay, that seemed reasonable.
Lunch ended up being leftover soup and grilled cheese sandwiches. The day was going smoothly. Amelia and I decided we needed to make more strings of popcorn garlands to wind around the stairs’ railings.
“Why don’t you pop a couple of bags of popcorn?” I suggested to Amelia. I pulled another bag of cranberries from the freezer. There were two bags left that should be more than sufficient for anything I would prepare for Christmas Eve or Christmas dinner.
“Should we watch a movie?” I asked.
“Can we?” Amelia’s eyes went wide, and a smile lit up her face.
“I don’t see why not.” There was a large screen TV on the far wall in the kitchen. There wasn’t any reason we couldn’t use it to watch an animated Christmas movie while we continue to make decorations.
“You don’t know how to work this thing?” I asked her. I stood in front of it and glanced around.
“Use the remote, silly,” she said.
I began looking around on the furniture near it to see if the remote had been placed on a side table or somewhere convenient since it wasn’t obvious. As I looked around, the TV clicked on.
“Hey!” I jumped and turned.
Amelia was smiling mischievously with the remote in her hand as she stood well across the kitchen, behind the counter.
“Where was that?”
“In the drawer where Emma keeps it,” she said.
“In the drawer where Emma keeps it,” I repeated to myself. That made perfect sense. Of course, the cook would keep the remote someplace convenient for her.
“Why don’t you pick out a Christmas movie?” I suggested.
I supervised as Amelia clicked through the available selections. She landed on a streaming service and immediately picked a princess and nutcracker movie.
“Can we watch this one?” she asked.
Noticing that the movie was based on Tchaikovsky’s Nutcracker , I agreed. “It’s a classic. Why don’t you hit play and I’ll bring over everything we need to make our popcorn garlands?”
“I need to get Humphrey if we’re going to watch this movie!” She put the remote down and ran out the door.
Humphrey? Oh, right, the stuffed animal. While she fetched her toy, I made two cups of hot cocoa and set up a cozy little craft corner where we could watch the movie and work on our project.
Amelia came back into the kitchen minutes later, her bedraggled stuffed animal in tow. I hit the button on the remote and started the movie. The opening music began to fill the kitchen from invisible speakers.
Bryan crashed into the kitchen, his nostrils flared and his eyes lit with fury. He looked angry, and I hated to admit that it was ridiculously attractive on him.
“Are we not allowed to watch movies?” I asked nervously. My nerves danced with a blend of fear and being super attracted to the man at that moment.
He glanced over at the large screen TV. He shook his head. “Movie is fine. That’s not it. My mother has announced she is coming over for dinner.”
“I guess that means I should make something impressive?” I asked.
He nodded and ran his hand over his face and through his hair. Clearly, his mother stressed him out.
“She’s a picky eater. And very judgmental. Could you make that artichoke chicken that you made the other night?” he asked.
“Of course.” I began mentally going over the ingredient list and whether I was going to have to go to the grocery store or not. It all depended on whether or not there were canned artichokes in that giant pantry. Something gave me the impression that the audition meal I made for him hadn’t been as important to my keeping this job as the meal tonight would be. And this was only a temporary job.
I wasn’t going to be able to sit and watch the movie with Amelia if I had to make the artichoke chicken. Well, it was a good thing the TV was large and the speakers were loud. I’d just have to follow along as I worked.