3. Winnie #3
“You’re being suspiciously well-behaved,” he said to Billie as we entered the kitchen again.
She pouted. “I’m always behaved.”
CJ automatically pulled out a chair for me, then sat backward in the one beside it. “I think what Billie means is that traditional behavior metrics fail to capture her complexity.”
Bianca nodded thoughtfully. “That does align with her.”
Mr. Lawrence’s exhaustion had become more pronounced. It was interesting how quickly affection softened his irritation, though. Even now, tiredness sat heavily in him, but every time one of the children spoke, a loose, easy warmth settled over his features.
He moved toward the kitchen island and shuffled several papers into order—employment forms, emergency contacts, school information and schedules. He was trying very hard not to appear hopeful.
“I realize this is sudden,” he said carefully, “but if you’re truly interested in the position, I’d be happy to have you start immediately. Or next week. Whenever works best for you.”
All three children whipped their heads toward me.
I folded my gloved hands neatly beside the paperwork. “Tomorrow would be perfectly acceptable.”
Relief burst through the room. Billie actually bounced on her toes. CJ tried to hide his smile and failed, and Bianca looked down at her book too quickly. And Mr. Lawrence?—
It transformed him. The constant tension around his mouth eased, and his shoulders sagged. For a brief moment, he looked younger than he had when opening the door. Human men truly had no idea how transparent they became when they were bogged down by exhaustion.
“That’s…” He stopped and exhaled softly. “That’s wonderful.”
“Wonderful,” Billie repeated.
“We shouldn’t emotionally overwhelm the nanny before her first day,” Bianca said.
Billie stuck her tongue out at her sister. “She likes me.”
“I do,” I agreed, eliciting a triumphant look from Billie.
Mr. Lawrence gathered himself quickly and slid the contract toward me, so cautiously professional as if a more sudden movement would scare away the first competent childcare provider his children hadn’t psychologically destroyed on sight.
The contract itself was remarkably reasonable. He provided a good salary with clear expectations and appropriate hours. Though I did pause briefly at: Employee agrees to maintain a safe and stable environment for the children.
Subjective, really.
I signed neatly.
Mr. Lawrence handed me a form for emergency contact information. “And if there’s anyone we should call?—”
“No.”
His brows lifted slightly.
“No family nearby?” he asked.
If only he knew. “None that would be useful in case of emergency.”
He nodded slowly, clearly sensing there was more to it, but wisely deciding not to press. Excellent instinct. Most humans ruined pleasant interactions by demanding explanations they had not earned.
Mr. Lawrence finished organizing the remaining forms and looked genuinely embarrassed by the stack. “Sorry. There’s more paperwork than there should be.”
“No need to apologize.” I finished signing the forms and glanced at the children. Billie had become quite restless and was upside down in her chair.
“Well,” I said, “I shall see all of you tomorrow morning.”
Billie righted herself, looking genuinely devastated that she’d have to wait that long. “Tomorrow is forever away.”
“It’s approximately eighteen hours,” Bianca corrected.
“That’s forever math.”
At the front door, Mr. Lawrence reached for the handle, then hesitated. “There is…” He stopped awkwardly. “Actually, there is one thing I wanted to ask.”
“Of course.”
His eyes flicked briefly toward my clothing. Understandable. I was, after all, dressed like a very fashionable widow.
“Is it the hat?” I guessed.
“The entire…” He gestured vaguely. “Situation.”
Behind him, Billie whispered loudly, “I told you she lived in a castle.”
“I’m a firm believer in sun protection,” I said smoothly. “And maintaining one’s complexion requires commitment.”
Something warm flickered across his face then. “You’re a little young to be worrying about aging that much, aren’t you?”
I laughed softly before I could stop myself. “You’re kind to say so, but I’m older than I appear.”
That, at least, was profoundly true.
His gaze lingered on me.
Curious man.
Interesting man.
Achingly lonely man.
“Well,” he said eventually, opening the door fully now, “we’re glad to have you.”
“Thank you,” I said.
Outside, the air had cooled. Clouds hung low across the sky, blessing me with merciful shade as I stepped onto the porch and opened my parasol.
Billie gasped dramatically again. “She’s so cool,” she whispered.
“Billie,” Bianca hissed.
“What? She is.”
CJ leaned into the doorway. “See you tomorrow, Winnie.”
“Until tomorrow.”
Mr. Lawrence remained at the door while I descended the steps. I could feel him watching me. Humans often stared at things they didn’t understand.
By the time I reached the driveway, I allowed myself to smile. Older than I looked. If only he knew.
Though I appeared somewhere around twenty-nine by modern standards, I was considerably closer to two hundred.
Par for the course for a vampire.