2. Gray #2
Ten minutes later, I turn into Drayton Close, the gravel crunching under the tires as I drive through the large concrete pillars marking the entrance to my estate.
The long driveway is lined with meticulously trimmed hedges, their symmetry a small victory in my otherwise chaotic life.
When I kill the engine outside the house, I notice the silence from the backseat. I glance over my shoulder to find Maddie fast asleep, clutching her stuffed monkey like it’s the key to her existence. For once, she actually looks... peaceful. Cute, even.
I get out, walk around to the back, and open her door. Quietly, I undo her seatbelt and scoop her up into my arms. She’s light as a feather, and I make a mental note to ask Nicole if she ever feeds this kid.
Awkwardly, I manage to open the front door and step into the house, the familiar scent of polished wood and citrus cleaner greeting me. The hallway is dimly lit, but I navigate it easily, heading up the staircase.
Clara is already in the third guest room, straightening the freshly made bed. She looks up as I enter, Maddie still asleep in my arms.
“Oh, what a sweetheart. I haven’t seen her in so long,” she whispers.
“Sweetheart?” I shake my head, place Maddie on the bed, and gesture for Clara to follow me out of the room.
In the hallway, I explain, “Nicole had to rush off tonight. No warning. I’ll bring Maddie’s suitcase up. Can you get her ready for bed? And tomorrow, I’m getting a nanny.”
“Of course I can,” Clara replies with a smile.
I touch her arm briefly. “Thank you, Clara. I appreciate this.”
After fetching the suitcase from the car, I leave Clara to deal with Maddie and retreat to my room.
The next morning, showered and dressed, I pick up the slip of paper Nicole gave me. The school address stands out—Westhaven Elementary School on Oak Street. I know where it is.
I pop my head into Maddie’s room, but it’s empty. The smell of breakfast wafts up the stairs, and I glance at my watch. 8:32 a.m. We don’t have long.
Heading downstairs, I hear Maddie’s voice ringing out like a siren.
“I can’t eat oatmeal, even if it’s topped with honey! I hate honey and I can’t stand nuts! But I’ll eat the peanut butter, but only with pancakes and fresh cream!”
In the breakfast room, Clara looks like she’s aged ten years overnight.
“Oh, just make her some pancakes,” I tell her, sitting down and grabbing a plate.
Clara looks at me, not amused. “I did make her pancakes, and she told me she can’t stand them. But... I’ll make her some more.”
Maddie grins triumphantly, twirling a fork in her hand. She’s about to flick a nut.
“Oh no, you don’t.”
She scrunches her nose at me and smirks. “Watch me.”
Before I can react, the nut flies through the air and smacks me right in the face.
I just stare at her, unsure whether to laugh or banish her to the driveway. I don’t like kids at the best of times, but this one really does take the cake.
As I load my plate with bacon and hash browns, I glance at her. “So, you obviously don’t want your room covered in princesses then?”
She pauses, thinking about it, clearly weighing her options.
“Apologize, and I’ll have your room done out by the time you go to bed tonight.”
Clara sets a fresh plate of pancakes and cream in front of Maddie, who pokes at the peanut butter before finally slathering it on top.
She chomps on a bite and shrugs. “Okay...I’m sorry.”
I shake my head, eating my breakfast. I can’t believe I’m negotiating with a damn ten-year-old.
After breakfast, I load her into the car and take her to school. With that mission accomplished, it's not long before I approach the Pacific Crest Publishing HQ. My head's pounding, and it’s only day one.
God help me.
Parking in the basement lot, I cut the engine with a sharp flick of my wrist. Grabbing my briefcase, I step out and make my way to the elevator. The dingy lighting down here is almost fitting for my mood.
Inside the elevator, I jab the button for my floor. Once the doors slide open again, I step into the pristine lobby, nodding briskly to the receptionist without slowing down. No time for pleasantries.
When I reach my office, I unlock it, push open the door, and immediately head to my desk. Dropping into my chair, I loosen my tie just enough to breathe and power on my computer.
As my screen flickers to life, I'm just about to buzz Beth, when the intercom goes off, and her voice comes through.
“Mr. Hayes?”
“Beth. Good. I wanted to speak to you. Now, can you arrange a live-in nanny for my niece? It’s only for ten days, starting this afternoon, and also, liaise with Clara, and get someone in to turn the third guest bedroom into something fitting for a ten-year-old girl. Something with princesses.”
There’s a pause. “Oh... okay. On it. And Mr. Hayes, I just wanted to remind you about your 9:15 meeting with the board of directors regarding the merger with Beacon House Publishing.”
“Thank you, Beth. I haven’t forgotten.”
I release the button and lean back for half a second before leaning forward again to log in. My email pings with a dozen new messages, but I ignore them, focusing on the merger documents instead.
The details load and the figures hit me like a freight train. Revenue streams, market shares, projections—it’s all here. I skim through the analysis, highlighting key points I’ll need to hammer home in the meeting.
There’s no room for error. Beacon House is as much a risk as it is an opportunity, and convincing the board that it’s worth the gamble is going to require every ounce of patience I don’t currently have.
I rub my temples. Ten days. It’s only ten days. But right now… I’ve got a merger to close.
***
Later that day, back at the estate, I’m in the living room with Maddie, who has somehow managed to turn the place into a war zone of discarded crayons, half-open books, and whatever chaos she can create with minimal effort.
Beth had arranged for a nanny to come over for an interview, and here she is—Ms. Dobson. The problem? It’s not going well.
Ms. Dobson kneels in front of Maddie, holding out some sort of educational flashcards, her voice sickly sweet. “Now, Maddie, wouldn’t it be fun if we played a little game? You could show me how smart you are!”
Maddie crosses her arms, her expression locked somewhere between disdain and outright rebellion. “Nope.”
“Maddie,” Ms. Dobson tries again, her smile faltering, “we could—”
“Not interested,” Maddie cuts her off and takes off running, grabbing a cushion from the couch and launching it across the room.
"Maddie, for god's sake!" I glare at her as I pull my phone out of my pocket, already texting Beth.
This one won’t make it through the first hour. Arrange another nanny from somewhere else. Nightmare.
Ms. Dobson is now standing, her face bright red, eyes wide as Maddie continues her rampage. She attempts to reason with her again. “Maddie, dear, could we maybe sit down for just a moment? Maybe you’d like to talk about what you enjoy—”
“I don’t want to talk. You’re boring.” Maddie grabs another cushion and tosses it at Ms. Dobson’s feet.
Ms. Dobson looks at me, practically in tears. “Mr. Hayes, I absolutely refuse to take her on. She’s… she’s impossible!”
Before I can get a word out, she storms toward the door, muttering something about needing a drink. The door slams behind her, and for a blissful moment, there’s silence.
Maddie stops running and plops herself onto the floor in front of the couch, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. “I didn’t like her.”
I stare at her, utterly at my wit’s end. “You didn’t like her? Maddie, you were incredibly rude!”
She shrugs, picking at a loose thread on her shirt like she hasn’t just driven a grown woman to the brink of tears.
I let out a breath, walk over to the TV, and flip through channels. “Fine. You’re watching a movie. Sit. Don’t move.”
Surprisingly, it works. She sits, transfixed as some animated nonsense lights up the screen. Clara walks in with a bowl of strawberry ice cream, her warm smile immediately faltering when she sees me.
“Strawberry?” I cut in before Maddie can start. “No. Take it away. Get some chocolate instead.”
Clara gives me a look, but she doesn’t argue. Maddie huffs. “Strawberry’s gross. Anyway... I'm allergic,” she mutters, but she’s calm—for now.
"Yeah, of course, you are, and so am I to you."
Meanwhile, upstairs, DreamSpace Staging & Design is working on her bedroom. They’re turning it into some kind of princess paradise, which, judging by Maddie’s earlier complaints, will probably be met with another barrage of opinions.
As she watches the movie, I slump into the armchair, completely out of my depth. My phone rings, breaking the brief moment of quiet.
Pulling it out, I answer as Maddie starts shouting at the TV about something incomprehensible. “Beth, what have you got for me?”
“I just spoke with the manager of Evergreen Nannies,” she says. “They’ll be sending someone over tomorrow morning. She’s good, her name’s Avery Bennett, and she’ll be there at 7:30.”
“Fine,” I mutter, ending the call as I lean back sinking into the leather, staring at the ceiling.
Hang on... Avery Bennett? No. Not that Avery Bennett. Not Jake’s little sister.