Chapter 12
TAGGART PARK IS JUST a few city blocks away from the Harrisons’ home. But this is not the city. I’m dealing with dirt trails and a baby carriage that handles like an army tank, so it takes me and the gang twenty minutes to get there.
It’s called a public park, but it looks like a fabulously landscaped sanctuary: A few acres of country-club-quality grass. Lawns bursting with pink begonias, scarlet impatiens, and yellow sunflowers. And not a single child is trampling over them.
I bet these rich kids have had tutors since infancy, so even the toddlers can read the sign that says KEEP OFF THE GRASS. Or maybe all the tire swings, rock-climbing walls, avalanche slides, ladders, ramps, and tunnels are way more enticing than a bunch of flowers.
With the Harrisons’ elegant carriage and purebred dogs, we should fit right in.
Should, yes. But then there’s me. I look around.
All the moms and nannies are younger, more relaxed, and way better dressed than I am, wearing slim trousers with the pleats intact and soft pastel sweaters and silk scarves loosely tied around their necks, or nanny uniforms way more elegant than mine.
All their children are playing nicely together.
And, of course, all their babies are asleep.
But Lily started screaming again halfway through our journey and hasn’t stopped.
And the dogs are growling, trying to bite each other.
I’m sure everybody is whispering behind my back.
The truth is, even with the chaos my little group is generating, I’m still invisible. No one is looking at me. They’re simply chatting quietly or scrolling through Instagram.
I sit on a bench and try mind control. Please quiet down, Lily, I think, staring hard into her eyes. No response. A pacifier doesn’t help. Rocking her in her $4,499 carriage doesn’t help either.
Then one of the nannies walks over and starts talking to me. “I am Marianna,” she says.
Marianna, a young woman with thick gorgeous black hair down to her waist and a wide smile, looks like she stepped out of a Town and Country spread on “The Most Beautiful Childcare Money Can Buy.” She pokes her face into the carriage.
Her voice is warm and friendly when she asks, “Lily, what is wrong today?”
Marianna recognizes the baby. Or the carriage. Or both.
Lily looks up at her.
“Here is a beautiful day, but you are in tears. So what is the problem?” Marianna reaches in and pats Lily on the head.
Lily sniffles.
“May I pick her up?” she asks.
I nod yes. I resist the urge to tell Marianna she’s welcome to keep her.
Marianna unzips Lily’s cotton harness and gently lifts the baby up to her own lovely face. “There’s an old Colombian trick for a crying baby,” she says to me. “Watch.”
Without warning, Marianna buries her face in Lily’s neck and makes a funny growling sound.
Lily is startled.
Marianna does it a second time. And a third.
Now Lily is giggling. Even the dogs have settled down. Marianna is both a baby whisperer and a dog whisperer.
“It is what my grandmother taught me,” she says. “You try.”
She hands Lily back to me. Other nannies start watching us. Now I’m sure they’re judging me. The moment of truth. So you say you’re a nanny, I’m sure they’re thinking. Well, prove it.
Slowly I lift Lily up to my face and then… grrrrr. I accompany the burrowing with a funny sound. For this I spent twenty weeks at Quantico?
But—success! Lily giggles.
I put her on my lap and bounce her a little.
She giggles more.
Marianna waves to a toddler, who runs over to join us. “This is Bella,” she tells me. “Bella loves Lily.”
Bella tickles Lily’s bare toes.
Is this a good idea? Bella has come directly from the sandbox. Could she be exposing Lily to lice? Herpes? Lyme disease?
I’ve got to learn to relax.
Marianna opens a small plastic bag filled with Cheerios and pours some into Bella’s hand. Which reminds me: I’m starving. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.
“The people I work for are friendly with Lily’s mama and papa,” Marianna tells me.
“Very nice people. Felicia and Paulo Velasquez.” A foreign name.
Possibly Mexican? I make a mental note to mention them to Metcalf.
“They bring me up from Colombia,” she adds.
“They sponsored me for a green card. I am here now for good. And I like it here so much.”
Marianna looks like she’s in her twenties. Moving here alone was a brave thing to do.
“Do you miss your family back home?” I ask.
“Yes,” she says. The beautiful smile shrinks a little. “But where I lived is very dangerous now. Not good for a young woman. Here is better for me.”
I would stay longer, but the dogs are getting restless. They’re probably hungry. So am I. The Cheerios are making my mouth water, but I hold my lips tightly shut. I don’t want Marianna to see me drool like Jane.
“I hope to see you soon,” I tell Marianna as I get ready to go. “And thank you for the tip.”
“You are welcome,” she says. “I wish you good luck with everything.”
Is it my imagination, or did she pause a little before that last word?