CHAPTER 5
Valentina
A t three-fifteen, I climb the stairs to a prestigious home in a gated community. The taxi that dropped me off and the traffic sounds are distant beyond the ornate iron gate, as if this community is removed from the surrounding bustle. I set the large tote bag beside the door, adjust the purse on my shoulder, and ring the doorbell.
The elegant two-story brownstone homes are spread apart, and flower gardens and budding trees line the sidewalk. An older couple walks past with their basset hound on a leash.
What kind of jobs do residents in this neighborhood have? This isn’t the first time I’ve nannied in the West Side of Manhattan, but I’ve always wondered if, even with the money, I’d ever want to live in the bustling city. It’s great if I’m working for a TV broadcast, but if I had a family, I’d want somewhere far from the honking cars and blaring sirens.
The door swings open, and I reach for my bag. It contains introductory gifts I picked up for the kids and something for Judy.
“Good afternoon, Valentina.” Judy opens the door wider, ushering me in.
“Good to see you again, Judy.” Her kindness refreshes me. Too bad I can’t say every family I’ve worked for was this warm and friendly from day one. I let her lead me through a long hallway adorned with modern paintings, our shoes tapping against the marble floor. “You have such a beautiful home.”
“My son bought it for me, but with Phil retiring, we will move somewhere more modest.”
A lemon scent hangs in the air, the place immaculate, and a smile curls my lips at the sound of children, their voices drowning out the soft background music.
“The kids are supposed to be doing their homework, but it’s not going as planned.”
We enter a plush living room. A paneled black accent wall hosts a dormant TV, while sage-green sofas cozy up to a smooth coffee table, and floor-to-ceiling windows reflect light off the marbled floor. A room beyond it features a black shelf with books and a table where the kids are seated.
One boy cups his cheeks, his eyes downcast and shoulders slumped. The other glances at us, then grabs a pencil, his hurried scribbles a clear attempt to seem occupied. They are adorable and look so similar. I doubt I can tell them apart. The girl casts a fleeting look our way before burying her head back in her book, her pencil moving slowly. They are all still dressed in their uniforms.
“Guys.” Judy claps. “Come meet your new caretaker.”
The boy with the pout stands first and walks toward me, looking down. None of them seem excited to see me.
I set my bag at my feet and lower myself to meet his gaze. “I hope I’m not the reason you’re sad.”
“Felix squashed my paper airplane, and Mimi doesn’t want me to do anything.” He crosses his arms, a frown creasing his forehead. Sweet thing. If his brother is Felix, then this must be Atticus. Distinguishing them from one another will be a challenge with their identical facial structure, brown hair, and blue eyes. When Felix joins us, I study them both. Atticus has an athletic build, and Felix is leaner.
“I’m sorry about your airplane,” I say.
“Atticus hit me.” Felix counters Atticus’s complaint.
“You stepped on my plane.”
“It was an accident.”
And now, I’m cast as the judge in this sibling dispute. Judy stays silent, testing me to handle the matter, so the tactics I’ve developed over the years come in handy.
They continue the argument, and Atticus wants justice.
So I turn to him. “You know what helps me feel better when someone upsets me?” His wide eyes stare at me as I suggest a solution I’ve employed before, both personally and with other kids. “I go outside and scream at the top of my lungs.”
“Will I feel better?”
I nod, and he scurries off toward the kitchen, his frame vanishing beyond the stairs. Judy smiles as I shift my attention to Felix. “Have you apologized to your brother already?”
He shakes his head.
“I’m sure it was an accident, but your brother might want to hear your sincere apology.”
After he nods, I ask what grade he’s in, and he holds out two fingers. “Second.”
“You guys had a presentation today, right?”
“The Gettysburg Address.”
“I’d like to hear that sometime.”
“I’ll do it now.” He folds his hands. As he recites, his sister groans from the table. The impressive speech lasts almost two minutes.
“Great job.” I raise a palm for a high five.
“It worked. It worked!” Atticus sprints back into the living room. His grin wide, he untucks his shirt. “I feel better. I hollered super loud. I think the neighbors heard.”
Again, I put out my hand for a high five. “We’ll have to make a new paper plane after your soccer practice.”
His brother apologizes for the airplane mishap, but Atticus barely acknowledges it before turning to me. “Are you taking care of us just today?” He seems genuinely curious, and his question reminds me of Judy mentioning the nannies they’ve been through. “What’s your name again?”
“I’m Valentina, but you can call me Val or Tina if you’d like.”
“I like Val.”
“Eden, hon,” Judy calls. “You should introduce yourself.”
The girl hesitantly slides off the chair, and her blonde ponytail swings past her shoulder. Her blue eyes reveal her sadness. “I’m Eden.” She puts out her hand, and I shake her petite fingers. “But you don’t have to worry about remembering my name. Dad will fire you before the weekend.”
“Eden!” Judy scolds, but I chuckle. I love how transparent kids are.
“Thanks for the warning.” I nod toward Eden, then reach for my bag. I stop her before she walks away. “I have something for you.” I retrieve the box kit with a dance skirt and a few girl-pampering items. “Your grandma said you love hot pink.”
She takes the see-through box and studies it. Her eyes widen, and her delicate blonde brows wing up. Judy reminds her to say thank you, and she does before walking back to the table. She’s tearing the box open and keeping her gaze on the contents, so she must like it.
Just because I’ve been out of a job in the spotlight for almost a year, doesn’t mean I’m too broke to manage a few gifts.
The boys are hovering by the bag. “Anything for us?” they chime.
“A green soccer ball for you.” I hand the ball to Felix. “And a blue one for you, Atticus.”
“My favorite color.” Atticus cheers while Felix assesses his ball from different angles, probably noticing it’s his favorite color too.
I’m sure they have plenty of balls, but I didn’t know what else they’d like.
“Thank you!” Felix beams, and Atticus rushes to my side, sets the ball down, and hugs me.
My chest expands at the sweet embrace. After the hug, I pull out the final gift and hand it to Judy. I bought it from the coffee shop after she left.
Paper crinkles when she opens the mug.
“‘Coffee tastes better in Manhattan.’” She smiles as she reads the words on the cup. “Aren’t you a sweetheart?”
“I didn’t know what else to get you.”
“I love coffee, and it’s always the thought that counts.”
The boys talk about going outside to play with their new balls, but their grandma halts them. “Best you change out of your school uniforms, and we need to get Eden to her dance class.” Judy then turns to me. “I’ll give you a tour of the house after we return from the kids’ activities. You might like to tag along since this will be one of your tasks. The boys’ soccer practice overlaps Eden’s dance class.”
I nod, and when she asks if I need some tea or coffee as the kids get ready, I decline. Then chaos reigns as the kids get ready. I fill their water bottles while Judy supervises upstairs. Soon, we’re out the door and crossing to one of the cars parked along the curb.
Judy calls after the boys as they skip ahead. “Look both ways before crossing.”
“Eden, that skirt looks so nice on you.” I edge closer to the girl as we approach a white Honda Pilot. She’s wearing the knee-length wrap skirt I gifted her.
“Thanks.” She tinkers with the waistband.
“And it fits her perfectly.” Judy tugs Eden’s waistline where the skirt cinches over her black leotard. “It’s like Val knew your size.”
A middle-aged man with brown skin steps out of the SUV, hastens to the passenger side, and opens the back door.
“Matthew, this is Valentina.” Judy smiles between us, and the man extends his hand, which I shake.
“Nice to meet you.” I then thank him for giving us a ride.
“Valentina is the kids’ new caretaker,” Judy explains. “She’ll let you know whatever adventures she has planned with the kids and anywhere she needs to go.”
“I have a car too.” I fold the seats for the boys to slide into the back row. Eden climbs into the middle row, followed by Judy, and then me. “I don’t mind driving if you need me to.”
“Whatever works for you should be fine.” Judy buckles herself in. “Just letting you know you can call Matthew whenever you need a ride.”
“Thanks.” I arrange my dress over my legs.
As we weave through traffic, car horns and distant sirens create their own backdrop, but I’m tuned in to the boys. Atticus points out cars that would make good airplanes. Felix points out ones that would be good in the video game he’ll invent. Eden sits, watching through the window, responding with monosyllables whenever I ask her a question.
If only I could hear her interact with her siblings to get a feel for her personality!
“When you go to Meadowbrook during spring break, you can drive Jay’s other car.” Judy’s voice cuts through my thoughts, and realize Jay must be the kids’ dad. I’m supposed to meet him this evening. While the kids’ grandma hired me, it’s important to get along with their dad. “We’ll add you to his insurance.”
We park alongside an old brick building. Since I’m seated on the curb side, I step out. Then Judy slides out next before Eden. They embrace before Judy promises to pick her up in an hour after practice.
“You don’t usually stay with her?” I ask.
While it’s important not to rely on anyone, Eden is just a child. Surely, she’d love to have someone watching and cheering her on during her dance practice.
“I can’t be in both places at the same time.” Judy winces. She’d probably like to be there for Eden too.
“I’ll be fine.” Eden fiddles with her skirt. “Dad comes sometimes.”
“If you want, you can stay with her,” I suggest to Judy, then turn to the driver with his window half rolled down. “Matthew, is it okay if you and I go and watch the boys?” I can handle it myself, but since they don’t know me well yet, they’d probably rather have the driver around too.
Matthew’s smile is kind. “No problem about that.”
“You’re sure you don’t mind?” Judy touches my shoulder, and I nod.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m on the sidelines while the boys practice in the fifty-degree sunshine. I cheer, clap, and chant Felix’s and Atticus’s names whenever they get it right. Then they come to the sidelines for a water break.
“You’re doing great.” I hand out more high fives.
Even though it’s not hot, their already somewhat sunburned faces are glistening with sweat. I’d better start stocking my first aid kit with plenty of sunscreen for such occasions.
During the scrimmage, Felix drives the ball toward the goal. I leap up, clapping, urging the ball onward with every ounce of hope. Yet, his kicks lack the sharpness they need, too sluggish and predictable. The alert goalie kicks the ball back, and Felix’s frustration manifests. His cleats tear through the semi-golden grass, sending clumps into the air like little tufts of defeat. Beside him, his coach shouts encouragement, pushing him to sync up with his teammates.
I glance around the watching parents and spot Matthew. He stands with the scattered crowd—some seated on folding chairs and colorful blankets, others standing like me. The large field buzzes with the energy of multiple teams weaving through their practices, whistles blowing, and chatter resounding.
A woman with a warm smile and a curvy silhouette approaches, a clipboard clasped in her hand. “I’m the coach’s wife. Are you here with Atticus and Felix?”
“I’m Valentina, their nanny.”
“Great.” She hands me a clipboard with names and dates. “Can you sign up to bring a snack for one of the games?”
I move the tip of the pen to find dates to sign up. There are only two spots left. This Friday and next Friday. I snag the first slot and return the clipboard. “Any particular snacks you need? Any allergies I should be aware of?”
“No allergies on this team, so just something nutritious and kid friendly.”
We’ll figure something out. I resume watching the practice scrimmage.
After a great evening, we drive back to the dance studio. I twist sideways in my seat to encourage the boys over their skills.
“You know anything about soccer?” Atticus cocks his head. “You ever play?”
“I played all the way into college. My brother taught me the basics.” I smirk. “I’m the youngest, so I was eager to try a bit of everything.”
A small hand from the back seat taps my shoulder, and Felix asks, “Can you teach me, please?”
“Teach me first,” Atticus insists.
Their eagerness warms me. I’m going to like this job better than working for odious Jason Sterling.
We pick up Eden and Judy, then head home. The kids have a snack. Eden hurries to finish her schoolwork, so she can read her book. Atticus settles in to make a paper airplane. Felix pushes to play soccer.
“We can do both.” We fold the planes on the marbled kitchen island using the card stock sheets Judy provided. I teach them different variations so they can decide what’s easier for them to make on their own next time.
We make extra planes in case Eden joins us.
Before we head outside, I call Eden from the room adjoining the kitchen. She sits with her feet crisscrossed on the comfy sofa, already engrossed in a book. She must have skipped her homework in her eagerness to read.
“I’m good.” She waves us off with her dainty fingers.
Judy settles at the island sipping her water.
I arch a brow, knowing well her response. “Want to join us?”
“That’s why you’re here now.” She lifts her glass toward me, ice jingling. “I can get a break.”
Felix pushes to play soccer as soon as we finish flying airplanes. I can’t say no as long as we have time. I can’t play soccer in my flats, though. They’re my favorite open shoes, and I don’t want them to rip.
On the patio, I slide off my shoes. Furniture forms a cozy oasis on the stone-floored section, surrounded by planters and a white railing. Beyond it lies a charming, fenced-in private backyard—not large, but with enough grass for the kids to play. Two-story homes similar to this one surround us, and taller buildings rise beyond them. The boys are already tossing their planes.
I step onto the grass. Still parched from winter, it pokes at my bare feet. The breeze stirs, whispering a coolness on my shoulders. With the fading sunlight, gone is the warmth and the fifty degrees.
Ignoring the discomfort, I sail my airplane into the air and retrieve it. The boys add sound effects as they run in circles tossing and picking up their planes.
I laugh at the innocence of childhood, getting lost in the kids’ world. Then the back patio door slides open. When I turn, I freeze. My stomach tightens, my smile vanishes, and my hand grips my constricting heart. “Jason Sterling?”
His question-filled blue eyes slice through me.
“You?” He frowns, his chiseled jaw clenching, and I feel exactly how he looks when he asks the question I should be asking him too. “What are you doing here?”
“That’s Valentina Diaz.” Judy speaks from behind him, and I’m glad because I can’t find my voice.
Of all the homes I could have been hired in as a nanny, how could it possibly be his ?
“Daddy’s home!” The boys whiz past me to greet their dad.
With deliberate steps, I walk toward the back door where Jason and his mom stand on the patio. No way am I working for this man. Now it all makes sense. He’s the man who doesn’t like anyone near him or his family. He needs some social skills. What kind of journalist is he without social skills?
I stop at Judy’s side. Jason is crouched at his kids’ level, hugging them, and I catch a glimpse of his smile. He actually smiles with genuine warmth.
He nods in response to the boys’ excitement about their afternoon as they speak over each other. Their happiness diffuses some of my tension. “Val showed us how to make paper airplanes that go even farther.”
“She said we can call her Val, Tina, or Va... Vaventina.” Atticus trips over his words, mispronouncing my full name, and I stifle a laugh despite myself. “But I like Val better.”
“She’s going to teach us soccer,” Felix chimes in. “Can you play with us, Daddy?”
“We’ll talk... about it later.” Hesitation slows his words.
Well, I’m just as hesitant to work with you, buddy.
“This is your son, Jay?” I ask Judy as if I hope she’ll deny it.
“Yes, this is Jay.” She beams at him.
“Short for Jason.” He seizes command as the boys tug at his hands. His gaze finds mine.
I stiffen at the tension between us, a silent acknowledgment of our unhappy encounter.
“She’s not a nanny, Mom. And she’s not going to be taking care of my kids.”
“And how many nannies have you interviewed to know who is and isn’t a nanny?” Judy plants a hand on her hip.
He clenches his shaven jaw and draws out an exasperated breath. Then his broad shoulders rise, and his crisp white shirt stretches across his chest.
“I’ll get going.” I start toward the door. Forget whatever promises I made Judy when she warned me about her son. That was before I knew her son was the grump .
“Please hold on, Val.” Judy snags my hand as I walk past. “Is it okay if Jay has a word with you, please?”
No is on the tip of my tongue, but she gives me a pleading look, eyes blue like Jason’s, only hers are motherly and kind. And my conscience niggles. I made her a promise earlier. I nod, unable to form a single word. Did I just do that? Agree to be in the same room with Jason Sterling? Ugh.
Judy then gives her son a warning glare that has him clearing his throat before he instructs the boys to follow their grandmother into the house. “I’ll be right there.”
The boys groan but don’t go inside until they bargain with their dad to play soccer with them. “Val is playing with us too.”
I don’t bother to correct Felix. But our soccer game won’t happen.
Heat rises through my chest. Only one good thing could come out of this moment. I might be able to give Jason a piece of my mind.
As Judy and the kids go inside, I move to the railing and observe the surrounding homes, the darkening sky, and the birds flitting from shrub to fence. Anything is more comforting than looking at Jason.
I should’ve taken a tour of the house. Perhaps I’d have seen his pictures on the walls and been prepared for this.