2. Tristan
CHAPTER 2
TRISTAN
“A nd I can assure you that—” Tristan was cut off by the sound of a loud wail outside the office. His investor, Aaron Brewer, looked at him across the table with an expression of concern.
“Is everything all right out there?” he asked.
“Yes, yes, all is well. I brought the kids into work with me today — it was a bit of an emergency.”
The emergency was that reliable childcare was hard to find. Over the last three months, Tristan had worked with a few nannies and babysitters and had tried to put the triplets in a nature preschool a few days a week. Yet, every time, things fell apart. The triplets were rambunctious and hard to wrangle, which meant that nannies and babysitters often quit quickly. The nature preschool had been helpful — until Jacob managed to put paint handprints all over the walls, the floor, the other children’s clothes, and his own face. It hadn’t helped that Jasmine often cried or that Jamie had so much energy that he practically bounced off the walls. The preschool had told Tristan last week that they couldn’t take the kids anymore.
Tristan was quickly running out of options, which meant he’d been bringing his kids into work more than he should.
“Certainly. I have a daughter myself.” Aaron Brewer smiled. Another wail cut through the office’s thin walls, and his expression turned to a grimace. “She’s at home with my wife, though. Anyway, I wasn’t aware that you had children.”
“It’s a bit of a long story.” Tristan reached for his cup of matcha. He still struggled to call the triplets “his kids” — it felt like a betrayal to the sister he’d never known. Anyway, it was difficult to explain how the triplets had come to be in his care, and it wasn’t really any of Aaron’s business, anyway. “Shall we return to the matter at hand? We were discussing how much of an investment you’d like to make in the next fiscal year. As I said, a seven percent increase on?—”
Another wail sounded, this one in the form of a word. “Mamaaaaa!”
“Perhaps you’d better go see what the matter is,” Aaron said, grimacing again.
Tristan felt his own polite smile turning into a grimace. He wanted to do right by these kids, but he had no idea how to do that. Everything he tried seemed to turn into a catastrophe, and today was no exception. “You’re right. Please, give me a minute.”
Tristan got to his feet and went to examine the source of the noise. His assistant, Caroline, was holding a screaming Jamie in her arms. His face was scrunched into a red-faced expression of complete displeasure as his small arms flailed wildly. His sister and brother, Jasmine and Jacob, were sitting on the floor, playing with a chunky train set.
“Caroline.” Tristan tried to keep his tone calm. “What is going on out here?”
“What’s going on is that I’m not a babysitter.” Caroline handed the screaming toddler to Tristan. Her usually neat blond curls were frizzy, and there was a stain on her blouse. “He just lost his head all of a sudden.”
“I know you’re not a babysitter, but I only asked you to watch the kids while I had this meeting.”
“Right, maybe today — but yesterday I watched them for three hours while you were in a board meeting. Do you know how many diapers I changed? Seven! In three hours! How is that even possible ?” Caroline looked on the edge of a breakdown herself, which Tristan could understand.
“I know it isn’t ideal,” he said. “Let’s all take a few deep breaths.” It was hard to be Zen with a child screaming in his arms, but Tristan had to try.
“A few deep breaths.” Caroline scoffed, her blue eyes rolling. “I signed on as your assistant because I admire your company and your work, but I’ve been spending more time trying to get your kids to eat mashed peas than actually working. I quit.”
“Give me until the end of the day,” Tristan said. “I just need to attend to a few things, and then I’ll figure out a permanent solution for the kids.”
“I don’t think so.” Caroline grabbed her purse, closed her laptop, and clicked in her tall heels to the door. There was a sticker of Mickey Mouse wearing a Santa hat on the back of her knee, beneath the hem of her pencil skirt, but Tristan decided it was better not to point that out.
“I have to be in this meeting right now,” Tristan hissed, hurrying after her. “It’s a major investor.”
“Well, I have to go home and take a shower. You can’t expect your employees to run a daycare for you.” With that, Caroline pulled the door open and disappeared down the hallway, leaving Tristan alone with the screaming Jamie in his arms. Jacob and Jasmine looked up at him with identical expressions of angelic innocence, their green eyes bright.
“There, there,” Tristan said to Jamie, bouncing the toddler in his arms awkwardly.
“Hungwy,” Jacob said, grinning wide enough to show his tiny teeth.
“Firsty,” Jasmine added, her grin matching her brother’s.
“Mamaaaaaa,” Jamie wailed, kicking his feet as tears squeezed from his eyes.
“I think I’d better come back another time.”
Tristan turned to see Aaron standing in the doorway, his briefcase in his hand.
“Just give me a minute to settle the triplets down, and we can continue our meeting,” Tristan said. “This is one of those times to roll with the punches that life throws.” He smiled in his best cool-CEO, go-with-the-flow way. As if in response, Jamie grabbed the glasses from Tristan’s face and threw them onto the floor in a fit of rage.
“Call me when this is sorted out.” Aaron waved vaguely at the triplets and the mess of Tristan’s outer office, which was covered in toys, half-open packages of snacks, and toddler-sized clothing.
“Certainly.” Tristan shifted Jamie into his other arm and held out a hand to shake. Aaron smiled tightly and didn’t take his hand. Instead, he disappeared into the hallway after Caroline.
Tristan slumped against his desk, bouncing Jamie and feeling hopeless. Caroline was right. His office, usually sleek, modern, and very efficient, was turning into a daycare center for three rambunctious triplets. Something needed to change.
“Come on, kids,” he said. “Let’s go home.” Clearly, no more work was going to get done today.
Loading the kids into the car was the equivalent of trying to get a flailing cat into a carrier to go to the vet. Only Jacob liked the car — his brother and sister would have done anything not to sit in their car seats.
Once they were home, things only got worse. Tristan’s beautiful home, his pride and joy, was strewn with toys and practically carpeted with crushed Cheerios and chunky child-safe Lego pieces that stabbed his foot when he tried to walk anywhere. His yoga studio had been turned into a bedroom for the triplets, his maid had quit, and his curving staircase was now bracketed by child gates.
Tristan changed all the triplets’ diapers, then set them up in their high chairs in the kitchen with bowls of toddler porridge and sippy cups of apple juice. Jamie had calmed down and now ate his porridge with his overlarge round-edged plastic spoon while Jacob sipped his juice, but now Jasmine was smearing handfuls of porridge into her hair.
At least all three kids were contained and none of them were crying.
Jacob took advantage of the moment to grab his phone and dial the final nannying agency on his list. He’d asked Caroline to put the list together months ago, and slowly, he’d worked his way through each. They’d send one nanny, maybe even two, and within a week, they’d always quit. The only one left on the list, Oh Pear!, charged exorbitant rates for nannies who were experts in international cooking, foreign languages, and art and music.
At this point, Tristan would settle for a nanny who didn’t immediately quit, but cooking, languages, and the arts couldn’t hurt.
He dialed the number for Oh Pear! and waited as the phone rang. As if on cue, the moment someone on the other end answered, Jacob spilled his apple juice and began to wail.
“This is Eloise Rice at Oh Pear! How can I help you today?”
“Hello. I’m Tristan West and I need a nanny. Urgently.” Tristan picked up the sippy cup, set it on the counter, and went to get a new cup of juice.
“You’ve come to the right place then, dear.” Although the woman on the other end used the word “dear,” it came across more like an insult than a compliment. It didn’t matter. “Can you tell me more about yourself and your children?”
“I have a set of triplets, a little over two and a half years old. To be honest, we’ve tried a couple of nannies before, but there’s never been a… good fit. The kids are a bit of a handful.” Tristan winced, convinced that Eloise would tell him she couldn’t help.
“Not to worry; I have just the nanny for you.” There was a smile in Eloise’s voice now. “Would you like live-in or day help?”
Jasmine threw a handful of porridge at the wall, where it oozed down the bamboo printed wallpaper like ectoplasm. Tristan winced. He’d need new wallpaper when the triplets were a little older. The border already bore brightly colored scribbles from when Jacob had found the markers while Tristan had been trying to calm Jasmine down.
“I think live-in would be best.”
“Of course.” Tristan heard the sound of a keyboard clacking. “I should be able to have a nanny with you first thing tomorrow — before lunch.”
“Really?” Tristan could hardly believe his ears. “That’s wonderful.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I’ll let you go now, but please reach out if you have any questions.”
“I will,” Tristan promised. He hung up and set the phone on the counter before turning his full attention back to the triplets. As one, they smiled at him, and his heart melted. Perhaps he didn’t exactly have the paternal feelings that most people did — he didn’t want to step fully into the role of “parent,” not when his unknown sister should be here to do that. He did want the best for them, though. The triplets should grow up happy and healthy and in a world full of love. Tristan just wasn’t sure he could make that happen on his own.
Once the triplets finished their dinner, Tristan got them down from their high chairs and carried them upstairs for their bath. He didn’t manage to get them in the bath every day, but today a bath was nonnegotiable, since Jasmine was practically coated in her dinner, and Jacob was sticky with apple juice. He ran the water while the triplets opened the drawers that were their height on the bathroom cabinet and started throwing things on the floor. All the while, they chatted with each other in their secret language of half English and half something Tristan was sure they’d invented.
He finally got them all in the bath and clean. Then he wrapped them each in their towels and led them like a trail of ducks to the room they shared. He’d wanted to get each child his or her own room, but they cried when they were separated, so Tristan had ended up letting them share. He tucked the kids into bed, wished them goodnight, and quietly left.
A moment later, the wailing began again, and Tristan felt like wailing himself as he reentered the bedroom to see what the matter was. Help couldn’t come soon enough.