Page 54 of The Billionaire’s Nanny

Grace brought her plate in and put it in the sink. She didn't go back outside. "Deborah's coming back."

Carrington set the cup down. "Did she tell you that?"

"No."

Grace went out into the hall. Carrington listened to her go up the stairs and shut her door.

"She's decided it for herself," Lucy said.

Carrington went upstairs to dress. She stopped at the window at the end of the landing. From there, she could see the whole path that led to the cottage, sixty feet of gravel worn pale in the middle where people walked on it. The cottage was at the bottom with its curtains still open.

On the twentieth, Alvarez was going to come to the house for a walk-through and inspect that cottage. Carrington stood there, looking at the cottage.

At ten that night, Carrington sat down at the foot of her bed.

She had written the list out by hand at the desk after dinner. Herself and Grace in the main house, and Lucy in the cottage, the live-in nanny. It was the same thing she had reported in March.

Lucy let herself in the bedroom at twenty past. She looked at the paper in Carrington's hand and didn't ask about it. Then she went around behind her and started removing the hair pins. She took them out one at a time, and every one of them pulled a little at Carrington's scalp. Her knuckles were warm against the back of Carrington's neck while she worked the fourth one out. Carrington wanted to put her head back into her hands, shut her eyes, and not have to do anything else. She let her finish.

"There's a visit on the twentieth," Carrington said. "Family Services. Apparently, it’s routine."

"Okay."

"There's a form I have to fill out that goes back with the social worker for the case file. It asks who lives on the property and in what capacity."

Another pin slid out.

"I'd like you to move your things back down to the cottage and sleep in your own bed until after the visit."

"All right," Lucy said.

"The form says you live in the cottage," Carrington said. "So the social worker will walk down there and verify it. She did that in March, and if she goes there and finds something suspicious, she’ll think something doesn’t add up and keep scheduling surprise visits to find out what. And Grace will have to stand in the hallway and watch a stranger go through her things in her own home."

"I said all right."

"I know you did."

"Then you can stop." Lucy got the next pin free. "What else?"

"The log. Start it again tomorrow."

Lucy stopped, one bobby pin halfway out. "You said that it was optional."

"I’m changing my mind. It isn't optional until after the twenty-first."

Lucy took out the rest of the pin. Then the next one.

"In front of the chef and in front of Alvarez," Carrington said, "I'm Ms. Cole and you're Ms. Harper. All the time, not just when there's somebody in the room. If we only do it when it matters, one of us will slip eventually."

"Okay."

Carrington had walked past Grace's door on the way up. It was shut, with the night light glowing underneath it. Grace had been asleep since half past eight.

"If she watches the two of us for ten minutes, she'll see it," Carrington said. "She's paid to see it. So there has to be nothing to look at."

Lucy stepped around in front of her and stood there with the pins closed in her fist. "There's nothing in the log since April," she said. "If I start it up tomorrow, she'll see a month of empty pages and then a page a day right up until she walked in the door."

"Start it anyway," Carrington said. "One more thing. If Deborah Mensah comes out here again before the twentieth, don't open the gate. Call the office and let me handle it."