Chapter 4
FOUR
austin
I’d entered the living room just in time to see the crazy—and crazy beautiful—woman in a wedding gown jump off the couch and perform some sort of martial arts move in which her foot went flying toward the ceiling.
Honestly, it was fucking impressive. You had to be pretty damn flexible to get your leg to do that.
I shoved all thoughts of her looks and agility aside—this woman was clearly nuts, and there was no way in hell I was hiring her to live here and watch my children. Had Mabel lost her mind?
Actually, I already knew the answer to that, since she’d just spent several minutes upstairs trying to convince me to give this woman a chance.
“Mabel, you can’t be serious,” I’d argued. “That woman is not right in the head. She’s wearing a wedding gown!”
“I know. Ari told me all about it,” Mabel said. “She was supposed to get married to some wealthy big shot today, and right before the ceremony she found out he was cheating on her. So she left him at the altar.”
“And went for a burger at Moe’s?” I shook my head, folding my arms across my chest. “This doesn’t add up.”
“Listen, you might be hungry too if you just defended your honor the way she did. This asshole controlled her life. Ari said it sounds like he was a real manipulative bastard who took away her old friends, made her delete all her social media accounts, and he paid for everything, so she was completely dependent on him.”
“Why didn’t she just leave?”
“Spoken like a true man.” Indignant, Mabel’s hands flew up. “I don’t know! You know how those rich jerks are—so entitled, they treat everyone like dirt, bossing people around because they think everyone is beneath them. You’re around that long enough, you start to believe it too.”
I clenched my jaw. I knew exactly how those guys were, I’d worked on their summer homes all my life.
But even if I understood how this girl had been manipulated, that didn’t make her my responsibility.
“Look, if that’s true, I feel bad for her.
But it’s not my problem. And I don’t appreciate you ambushing me like this. ”
“You’re the one who told me to find a replacement nanny! Can’t you just give her a chance? I felt an instant connection with her.”
“Why, does she love Hamilton or something?”
Mabel’s angry expression told me I’d hit the mark. “You would love it too, if you took the time to see it!”
“I’m busy, Mabel. I don’t have time for shows, and I don’t have time for this.” I turned to go, and she whacked my shoulder with the spatula.
“You won’t have time for anything if you don’t hire a new nanny!”
I exhaled, feeling a painful stab between my shoulder blades. I must have pulled a muscle today. “Does she have any childcare experience?”
“Um. She might.”
“You didn’t ask her?”
My sister fidgeted. “We talked about other things.”
I closed my eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose. “Mabel, this is ridiculous. This woman could be a serial killer.”
“She’s not.” Mabel tugged my arm down and pointed her spatula at me. “Stop being so judgmental. She’s here, she needs a job, and you need a nanny, so we might as well interview her. Maybe you’ll like her.”
“I doubt it.”
“Then do it as a favor to me,” she begged. “I can’t go off to my dig feeling all guilty and ashamed. I won’t do my best work, and then I’ll blow my chances of getting into a good PhD program, and my life will have been one big waste. Do you really want that weight on your shoulders?”
I pinned her with my best older brother stare and held up one hand, fingers spread. “Five minutes. That’s all I’m giving this. I’ve got shit to do tonight.”
“Five minutes,” she agreed. Then her eyes lit up with mischief. “She’s pretty, don’t you think?”
“I didn’t notice,” I lied.
“Well, she is. So try to be charming.”
In the blink of an eye, I’d grabbed Mabel by the wrist and twisted her into a headlock—a classic big brother move I usually reserved for my male siblings since Mabel was almost ten years younger and much smaller, but I wasn’t above employing it when she was really annoying me. “Twerp, I am all fucking charm.”
“Ha!” She struggled to escape and couldn’t. “You left charming behind a long time ago, along with easygoing, relaxed, and fun!”
“It’s like you forgot you just asked me for a favor.” I tightened my grip playfully and gave her skull a knuckle rub with my other hand.
Laughing, Mabel clawed at my forearm with one hand and slapped my legs with the spatula. “If you had a girlfriend, you wouldn’t be so uptight. Now let me go! You smell like sweat!”
I loosened my grip, and she took off down the stairs, leaving me no choice but to follow her. On my way, I glanced at my shirt and noticed the pit stains. Shit. Should I change?
Fuck it, I decided, and kept moving. Maybe the girl was pretty, and okay, my pulse did pick up a little when I saw her standing there on my porch, and fine, I felt sorry for her if she’d been treated the way Mabel had described, but I didn’t need to impress her.
If she didn’t like the way I smelled, she could leave.
I didn’t need a girlfriend, I needed a nanny.
What I appeared to have in my living room was a circus act.
“Wow,” my sister said. “Can you teach me that move?”
The girl—Veronica—whirled around, her cheeks turning red. “Oh gosh! Sorry, I didn’t see you there. I was just—uh—”
“She was showing us what she does to bullies,” Adelaide said.
“Bullies?” I questioned.
“Yes. See, she was supposed to get married to this man who wasn’t nice to her, so she kicked him in the face,” my daughter explained.
“Bam!” Owen added, shooting his bare foot out and catching the leg of an end table. He grabbed his toes and hopped around in pain.
Veronica held up her palms. “But I promise you, that is not how I usually behave in a church. Or anywhere else. I don’t believe in violence.
I just sort of . . . snapped.” As if she realized how that might sound, she quickly went on.
“But I don’t have a bad temper or anything. I’m actually very easygoing.”
“She makes birthday cake with sprinkles,” Owen said.
Adelaide nodded. “And she’s going to make us each one for our birthday, so we don’t have to share.”
“Your birthdays aren’t until February,” I reminded them. “You two go up to your rooms please.” I pointed toward the stairs and gave them a look that said I meant business.
They made eye contact with each other and had one of those twin conversations with their minds, during which they must have considered refusing to follow orders but decided it wouldn’t be worth it. Defeated, they trudged toward the stairs.
Mabel cleared her throat. “So tell us about yourself, Veronica.”
“Well, I grew up in New Jersey. I moved to New York as soon as I could save up the money, and I got my dream job as a Radio City Rockette. During the off-season, I waitressed or bartended.”
“So you’ve got hospitality experience,” said Mabel. “And a good work ethic.”
“I learned it from my mom.” Veronica’s full lips curved into a proud smile. “She worked harder than anyone I’ve ever known.”
“Do you have any childcare experience?” I asked, dismayed to find myself staring at her mouth. It was wide and lush and looked like a good time.
“Not really,” she said reluctantly.
“Babysitting when you were younger?” Mabel prompted. “Maybe younger siblings or cousins?”
Veronica shook her head. “I was an only child and didn’t grow up around any other family. It was just me and my mom. But I taught dance to kids.” She lifted her bare shoulders. “Does that count?”
“Sure, it does!” Mabel sounded excited, but I wasn’t in the market for a dance instructor.
“How about references?” I asked.
Veronica thought for a moment, then tugged up the strapless dress. “I don’t really have any outside the dance world. I could try to track down some of the bar managers I worked for. They would tell you I’m honest, I’m a team player, and I always show up on time.”
“Punctuality is so important,” Mabel enthused.
“Do you have a valid driver’s license?” I asked.
“Yes!” Veronica brightened up. “I definitely have a valid driver’s license.” Hurrying over to the couch, she pulled a wallet from her bag and handed her license to me as if I’d carded her.
I took it from her and studied it, starting with the photo.
She was much prettier in person, but maybe that was because she looked sort of sad and serious in this picture.
No smile, no light in her eyes, and her complexion was pale, almost gray.
Her full name was Veronica Marie Sutton, and according to the birth date listed, she was twenty-nine years old. The issuing state was Illinois.
“I thought you lived in New York.”
“I moved to Chicago to live with my fiancé.”
“Did you have a job in Chicago?” I asked, handing her license back.
She hesitated, fidgeting with the card, flicking one edge with her fingernail. “Yes and no. My fiancé put me on the board of some charities his family supports, so I did some fundraising and special events.”
“So you were in philanthropy.” Mabel made it sound fancy.
“You could say that.”
“And how did you end up in Cherry Tree Harbor?” I asked.
“My fiancé—ex-fiancé’s—family owns a home here, and this is where they always have weddings.”
“What’s the family?”
“Vanderhoof.”
I nodded. I’d heard of them. Rich family that liked to throw their name and their opinions around.
“But I’m afraid if you ask them for a reference, it will not present me in a very positive light,” Veronica said quietly. “Needless to say, Neil and I did not end on good terms.”
“So you have a driver’s license,” Mabel said, briskly moving on. “How about a car?”
“I had one.” Veronica hesitated. “I might still have it. I’m just not sure.”
“You’re not sure?” Even Mabel’s voice was wavering now.
“Well, technically it probably belongs to Neil. He bought it for me.”
“How about cooking skills?” Mabel threw out the question, and I saw her crossing her fingers at her side. “Can you make any meals?”