3. Hannah
Hannah
The mansions of Barton Creek rose like monoliths behind their gates and sprawling grass lawns.
When I reached the address for the interview I’d been given by my employment agency, I stopped in front of the closed wrought-iron gate with the monogrammed initials BBD in blocky print across the top.
Letting out a shaky exhale, I rolled down my window.
“State your business,” a gruff male voice said over the intercom.
“I’m… Hannah Brooks… with Austin Family Caregivers. I’m here for the nanny interview.” My voice sounded so thin, I almost didn’t recognize myself. I’d worked for wealthy families before. But never at this level.
I still had no idea what species of crypto-terrestrial my potential employer was. My face flushed hot even thinking about it. For the most part, humans had fully accepted that monsters were now part of society. But that didn’t mean that there weren’t still cross-species prejudices.
There was a buzz from the intercom and then the gate slid open. Driving my Subaru up the long driveway that cut into the hillside, I tried to get a good look at the estate. There was raw limestone exposed on one side of the road. Above the rock was a craggy cedar forest.
The opposite side of the drive was lined with live oaks, their limbs creating a canopy across the road. Beyond the trees, I spotted wide swaths of irrigated lawns.
The house sat at the top of the hill. It was a single-story modern Hill Country contemporary, sprawling along the ridgeline. It had pale limestone walls and large floor-to-ceiling windows. The landscaping was yucca, agave, sage, and ornamental grasses in beds of crushed stone.
My heart pounded in my ears as I parked near a black G-Wagon and turned off the car. Gathering my courage, I grabbed my purse from the passenger seat and stepped out onto the flagstone path.
The massive dark-red mesquite front door was recessed under an overhang. The blackened steel vertical pull was mounted high on the door, looking like it was for a person on a whole different scale.
I gulped and glanced around for the doorbell. I was about to press the shiny black button under the intercom when the door swung open.
A woman in a well-fitted black housekeeper’s uniform stood before me. She was in her late fifties and had her dark hair pulled back into a chignon.
“You must be here for the nanny interview,” she said as a greeting. “I’m Lola Cantú, the housekeeper here. Mr. Drakkar will see you in his study. Come on in.”
The front foyer was on the same scale as the front door with a double-height ceiling, an oversized console table, and a bench built for a body twice my size.
Off the foyer, through a squared opening framed in heavy dark beams, I could see into a living room.
Lola moved toward a squared-off entry to the left that led into a wide hallway.
The white-painted walls were lined with framed photographs.
I glanced at the first one as I passed and it almost made me wince.
There was a giant sweaty orc with massive tusks growling at the camera. He wore striped red-and-yellow boxing shorts and held a championship belt over his shoulder. There was a wall of fans screaming behind him.
I shook my head, trying to keep my composure.
Lola glanced over her shoulder and smiled warmly at me.
I grinned back like I was totally fine. And stared at an oil painting of a landscape of a limestone bluff.
Lola stopped at Mr. Drakkar’s study door and knocked twice.
I noticed a framed painting on the floor, turned inward toward the wall.
The brown paper and wire on the back faced out.
“Come in,” a gruff voice said. The same gruff voice from the intercom near the gate.
Lola opened the door. “The potential nanny is here for her interview.” She turned to me. “Go ahead. He won’t bite.”
She smiled at me as I passed, my heart clanging in my ears. What had I gotten myself into? I walked into a room with dark wood paneling. A sliding door that opened out onto a back patio with a lawn and a pool that sparkled in the afternoon light.
Behind the enormous desk sat Mr. Drakkar in an enormous leather executive chair, his dark green hands folded on the desk. I tried not to let my shock show as I sank into the leather armchair across from him. He wasn’t the largest crypto-terrestrial I’d ever seen. But he was the meanest looking.
He glared at me with unflinching black eyes, his mouth a hard line, bracketed by dangerously sharp and dangerously long tusks. He wore business casual attire, a pale blue polo shirt and khaki pants. Which should have put me at ease. But it didn’t.
“Your name is Hannah Brooks?” he started, hands rising and his fingers pressing into the desk. He glanced down at what I presumed was my resume.
“Y…yes,” I stammered, feeling incredibly stupid. I’d been a nurse for seven years and had more than enough experience to be a nanny. But the way he was looking at me made me feel like I was being cleared for access to the nuclear codes.
“You went to the University of Texas and graduated with a bachelor’s degree?”
“Yes.”
“Why didn’t you get a master’s?”
“I… um… I didn’t feel I needed one for my career path.” My collar suddenly felt very tight.
“Hmm, interesting.” He looked back down at the resume.
“What made you decide to quit nursing?”
“I didn’t quit, I… changed trajectory.”
He looked up, catching me with those impossibly dark eyes. “Why?”
“Well, you see…” How could I tell him I’d been burned out from a lifetime of caregiving when I was here interviewing for a caregiving job. “It just felt like it was time for a change of pace. And in-home work would allow me to give more personalized care.”
“I’ve checked your provided references.” He picked up another stack of papers.
“The agency already does that,” I cut in.
His eyes flashed back to me, and I felt pinned in place by his gaze. “It’s important to me to be thorough. Do you have an issue with that?”
“No… of course not. It’s your child. I hope everything came back to your liking.”
“I didn’t find anything particularly concerning. Your last patient said you needed to take more time off. What do you think that means? Were you negligent in your duties?”
“No. Never. I always do the best I can. Live-in care work is 24/7. That’s the whole point. I have to be there for my patients at all hours.”
“I see. Well, I wouldn’t want you overworking yourself and making a mistake with my son.”
“Perfectly understandable.”
“I’ll be here most of the time. I run my business primarily from home right now. So, you won’t be alone with my son very often.”
“Okay.”
“Do you have a problem with that?”
“No. Why would I?” I was beginning to think something had happened with the previous nanny.
“You’ll have to sign an NDA. Considering my business is very public-facing, there have been… issues in the past.”
“That’s fine. I saw your photos in the hallway. Are you a professional fighter?”
He stared across the desk, giving me a scrutinizing look. I didn’t know anything about boxing or whatever it was he did. Even though his face looked slightly familiar.
“Something like that. I’d like you to meet my son before I make a final decision. Come with me. He’s in the kitchen with Lola.”
He stood from his desk and crossed toward the door.
Watching him pass kept me rooted in my chair.
He’d been imposing when he was sitting behind the desk, but standing was a totally different story.
The sheer mass of him, height and width, not to mention his intimidating presence, made me suck a breath and hold it as he passed.
“Come on then,” he grumbled from the doorway.
I scrambled out of my chair and followed him out of the study. As he lumbered down the hallway in front of me, his broad back filling my view, it occurred to me how the house itself was built to fit his size.
We passed the foyer, going back the way I’d come in and stepped through the beam-framed opening into the living room.
The ceilings were at least twenty feet high, white plaster with dark exposed beams. The floor was polished, pale wood leading to a bank of windows and sliding door looking out on the back of the property.
I could glimpse the pool and the view beyond.
The limestone fireplace dominated the space, climbing the whole height of the wall. Two long brown leather sofas faced each other across the hearth. And cowhide-upholstered Mission-style armchairs sat in front of the windows.
The decor was earthy neutrals. There was a rust and ocher abstract painting above the mantel. A Mission pattern rug, and a macramé hanging that gave the whole room a slightly boho vibe.
The contrast of the design aesthetic of this room and the man lumbering ahead of me made me wonder about the child’s mom. I had to assume a lot of this had been her doing. Mr. Drakkar didn’t strike me as the kind of man who bought macramé or abstract paintings.
We passed into the kitchen through another squared off entry.
The room was as light and airy as the rest of the house, with the same massive scale.
The shaker-style cabinets and marble counters were all white.
Lola was behind the stool-lined kitchen island, stirring something on the stove.
Light poured in from the sliding glass door and massive windows.
There was a warm wood kitchen table on one side of the room that sat six.
On the other side of the table, a little orc sat in a high chair, staring into the middle distance.
He was a softer green than his father and had wispy brown hair.
There were pieces of banana on his tray, but he was ignoring them.
“This must be the boy?” I said. He hadn’t told me his son’s name. I smiled at the child and approached him.
“Otto,” Mr. Drakkar grumbled behind me.
“Hi, Otto. My name is Hannah. How are you today?” He didn’t turn to acknowledge me, but drool slid down his chin and gathered on his bib. I sat on the chair next to him, setting my purse on the table.
His soft amber eyes remained on the middle distance. He lifted one of his little fists and jammed it into his mouth. I could see his gums were swollen.
“Does your mouth hurt, Otto?” I asked in a soft voice.
His eyes flicked toward me for just a second. Then he started to cry. My instinct was to pick him up, but I hadn’t been hired yet, so I made myself resist the urge.
Mr. Drakkar stormed over to us, and my heart lurched in my chest. His massive hands descended toward the boy. My eyes widened in shock, half expecting him to yank the child out of his high chair. Instead, his meaty fists gently cradled Otto and lifted him gingerly out of his seat.
“I think he’s teething. One of his tusks is probably coming in,” I said, grabbing my purse and standing.
Mr. Drakkar was bouncing the child in his arms, looking overwhelmed and distraught.
“When can you start?” he grumbled. “Can you start tomorrow?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“I’ll send the final paperwork to the agency for you to sign. Get it back to me tonight and get here first thing in the morning.”
“All right,” I said, watching him fumble with his son. “His gums hurt,” I interjected.
“Just come back in the morning, Ms. Brooks. And don’t make me regret hiring you.”
Mr. Drakkar lumbered out of the kitchen with Otto, leaving me in the kitchen with Lola.
I blinked, feeling a little blindsided. I already knew the terms of the employment, so all that needed to be finalized was my signature.
But my new employer was so gruff and dismissive, it was hard for me to feel secure in the situation.
“Well,” I said briskly. “That went well, I think.”
Lola turned to me and smiled. “Brakkus is a good man once you get to know him. He’s had a hard year.”
She motioned for me to follow her out, and we made our way back through the living room to the front door. She didn’t say any more about why Brakkus had had a hard year. But I had to assume it had something to do with Otto’s mother.