Chapter 13
WE GET BACK TO the house, and Lily is clearly hungry. How do I know? She’s putting her fingers halfway down her throat. And she’s too young to be bulimic.
When I hear the front door open, I’m hoping it’s Amber. More to the point: I’m hoping it’s Amber’s breasts. No such luck. It’s Ben Harrison himself.
And he’s not what I expected. I thought he’d be a smooth operator whose charm and smile hid a dark side. I was wrong.
The dark side is right out there for the world to see.
Ben is a gray-haired, thick-necked guy in his fifties who looks like he might have played football at Ohio State, striking fear into the hearts of opponents. He’s well over six feet tall, large and imposing, with massive shoulders but a small head. He looks like an apple on a tree.
Ben grunts something that sounds like “Hey.” Is that a hello? I’m not sure. He doesn’t seem to notice that we haven’t met before.
“Hello,” I say. I’m holding Lily in my arms. “I’m the new Isobel.” I realize how dopey that sounds.
Another grunt. “Uh.”
“I mean, I’m Isobel’s replacement.” Did he even hear me? Hard to say. What a charmer. No doubt he matriculated at the Pablo Escobar School of Social Graces.
Ben removes his blue blazer and throws it on the back of a silk-upholstered chair in the hall. Then he loosens his tie and tosses it on top of the blazer. Am I supposed to hang them up? Lily reaches out to him.
“I think she wants her daddy to hold her,” I say.
“Can’t now,” he says.
Okay. I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt—maybe he’s the squeamish type.
“Her diaper is clean,” I assure him. But he’s still not interested.
Maybe he’s just distracted. A typical man needing a little downtime after the typical tough day at the office.
Made even tougher by both the FBI and a murderous cartel breathing down his neck.
He goes into his office and shuts the door.
Now I hear a car in the driveway. Just in time! It’s Amber, looking only slightly less put together than she did before she left. An hour of tennis and the only telltale sign? Her face is glossy. On me, it would look like sweat.
“I see Ben’s car,” she says. “Have you met him?”
I’m not sure how to answer that. What Ben and I shared was not my idea of a true meet-and-greet. “Yes,” I say. “He’s in his office.” Lily reaches out to her mother, who takes her and hugs her and nestles her in her arms.
“Were you a good girl?” she asks the baby. Lily answers in a few gurgles.
“We went to the park,” I say. “I met Marianna.”
“Who?”
“The woman who takes care of Bella,” I say. “Bella Velasquez. Marianna says you’re friends with—”
“Oh, well, we’re not really friends,” she says. “Mr. Velasquez and Ben have some business dealings.” She quickly changes the subject: “Are you hungry?”
Actually, I’m starving. But of course she’s talking to Lily. Amber carries Lily into the den, sits down on a pink silk couch, pulls up her tennis shirt, and whips out a breast. Lily latches on quickly and greedily.
“You are a hungry bunny, aren’t you? Well, a day in the park can do that,” she says to the baby, leaning back into the cushions so the two of them are more comfortable. She gestures to something on the other end of the couch. “Can you toss me that shantung pillow?”
Shantung? Is that a city in China? A fabric? A color? Whatever it is, I can’t afford it.
“We brought the dogs too,” I say as I hand her a random pillow. Amber’s not listening. Baby gurgling trumps nanny news any day. If I’d thought I could earn some gold stars for bringing the dogs along, detangling their leashes with every step and cleaning up after them, I was mistaken.
“My little sweetie doodle,” Amber coos. “You’ve certainly got your dad’s appetite. That’s good. Getting lots of those mommy enzymes and all those anti-… anti-somethings.”
“Biotics,” Ben says, walking into the room, totally out of the loop. He lumbers from side to side like a monster in an old horror movie.
“Bodies,” I say. “You mean antibodies. From the breast milk.” This was not wise. It’s clear that Ben is a man who does not like to be corrected.
“Hello, darling,” Amber says, ignoring me and smiling at her husband. “I see you’ve met Carol.”
“Uh, it’s Caroline,” I say.
“I thought her name was Isobel.”
“Isobel left yesterday,” Amber says. “But Carol has glowing references.”
He watches Lily at Amber’s breast. His face registers nothing.
“Such a sleepy bunny,” Amber coos again. Lily’s eyes are closing. She unlatches for a moment to yawn, then grabs hold of the nipple again a little too roughly.
“Ow,” says Amber. “I hope you’ll have gotten enough of those anti-things by the time you get teeth. When should that be, do you think?” she asks me.
“Might be any day now,” I say. “I mean, considering she’s so advanced.” The magic word. So glad I remembered. Amber seems proud and pleased.
“You know,” she says to me, “now that I’m back, if you want to go home to pack up your things before I show you to your room…”
“Good idea,” I say, looking around for my coat. We chat for a moment about hours, salary, my responsibilities. Amber is filled with thanks and praise.
“But maybe—could you just burp her while I jump in the shower?” she asks.
Amber hands Lily back to me and I plop her on my lap as I get into position the way YouTube showed me.
With one hand under the baby and the other under her neck, I lean her forward and tap lightly.
Nothing happens. I tap harder. Still nothing.
How hard can I go? I wish I had read more about a baby’s anatomy.
At what point will her infant skeleton fully harden from the soft cartilage that can squeeze through a vagina into breakable bones?
I whisper, “C’mon, Lily. Burp! Burp!” the way a paramedic tells a cardiac victim to “Breathe! Breathe!” Soon I hear a soft, gentle whoosh. Not sure which end it came from.
The whoosh is followed by a gurgling sound that can mean only one thing: A new doody has come to join the party. Breaking one of the most cherished baby-care rules of all time, I decide to ignore it.
I put Lily back in her baby seat, hand the beloved oven mitt to her, and say goodbye to Ben, who’s standing nearby munching a giant turkey leg. No grunt this time. Just a nod in my direction.
But I’m wiped out. I’ll take any goodbye I can get.