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Mara glanced down at her watch. She grinned. "As soon as they're ready for me."

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IS THERE SUCH A THING AS ATTACHMENT NANNYING?

AS SHE STEPPED OUT OF THE TAXICAB ON DUNE DRIVE,

Mara found herself greeted by a twenty-foot-high statue of Michelangelo's David. Enormous reproductions of several of the most famous sculptures in Western history stood on the lawn in front of the mega-mansion, casting long shadows that stretched all the way to the road. If she'd renewed her passport, Mara thought glumly, she'd be seeing the real David in Florence--with her David at her side--instead of its rather tacky facsimile. But then a welcome sight greeted her among the fake Greek kouroi, chasing her negative thoughts away.

Jacqui was sitting on the curb, cigarette in hand. She quickly stood as she saw her friend. "Mara!" she cried, running up and throwing her arms around her. Mara hugged her back fiercely. Jacqui's thick, glossy mane of hair tickled her cheek.

Mara finally managed to stand back and smile. "What are you doing here? Did the Perrys send you over to borrow a cup of sugar?" she joked, straightening the straps of her pale yellow sundress.

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At the mention of the Perrys, Jacqui's face fell. "No. I'm not working for them anymore. They moved to London."

"To London?" Mara asked, totally taken aback. It was her turn to look distressed. "All of them?"

Jacqui nodded, putting out her cigarette with the heel of her wedge sandal. "C'mon, let's go in." She linked her arm in Mara's and the two of them walked up to the front door together.

Mara took Jacqui's arm and followed her blindly, lost in thought. London. If the whole family had moved, that meant Ryan was in London too. Which meant he wasn't going to be in the Hamptons this summer. A small part of her--one she didn't even know existed anymore--suddenly . . . deflated.

When Ryan and Mara broke up last summer, they'd promised each other that they would be friends and that they'd keep in touch. They'd tried, but without much success. Ryan had e-mailed several times, and Mara had called him a bunch too, but the e-mails had been short and the phone calls stilted. In the end, Mara couldn't remember who was supposed to get back to whom, and the correspondence dwindled, until she had to rely on third-party information from Jacqui, who worked for his family, or Eliza, who was one of Ryan's oldest childhood friends and traveled in the same social circles.

Mara took one last look at the David, that enduring portrait of male perfection, as they climbed the steps and thought with a sigh about the two guys in her life who she'd once thought were perfect--Ryan and David---but whose relationships with

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her had either not endured or had turned out to be less than perfect.

The door opened moments after they rang the bell, revealing a glowing Eliza, her skin tan against a chic white halter dress. "Hola, chiquitas!" She threw out her arms and enveloped them in a three-way hug. She finally pulled back and led them into the house. "Welcome to our humble abode," Eliza said slyly, gesturing grandly with one arm.

"Meu Deus!" Jacqui exclaimed as they took in the size of the foyer, the gold-gilt furniture, and the breathtaking view of the ocean through floor-to-ceiling windows. The five-thousand-square-foot room had a sunken conversation pit with buttery leather couches and crystal coffee tables, and twin six-by-ten-foot Jackson Pollock canvases flanked the fireplace, almost identical to the ones that hung on the entrance to the third floor of MoMA.

Eliza ushered them into a messy office on the ground floor. "This is Suzy," she said, gesturing to the area behind the paper-covered desk. They turned to see a frizzy-haired woman talking into her headset while miming instructions to a few staff members who stood patiently, somehow understanding her nonverbal cues and scribbling down notes.

Suzy took off her headset and smiled at the girls. "Hi! You must be Eliza's friends. Come, sit!" She motioned for them to take a seat around the conference table, and her staff members slunk quietly out of the room.

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Eliza followed them to the door. "I'll see you guys later; I have to jet to the store. Jeremy's putting the downlighting in the dressing rooms and I have to make sure he got the pink bulbs-- super-flattering!" She waved her hands and blew them kisses as she shut the door.

Mara turned to look at Suzy again. She wondered if she was going to be as difficult as Anna Perry had been. She'd certainly heard of Suzy Finnemore, hedge fund queen, and had been expecting a hard-as-nails dragon lady. Someone blown out and Botoxed to within an inch of her life. But the woman who sat at the head of table had a blowsy, harried manner--not to mention a rumpled wardrobe. Quite a departure from the perfectly polished Hamptons housewife--which, Mara realized, was exactly what the difference was. Unlike those women, Suzy actually worked for a living--in fact, she ran a very successful business. She didn't have time to sit around and have manicures all day. "So let me begin by saying, I usually don't work with a nanny." Suzy moved one of the piles of paper over so they could see each other more clearly. "I raised all the kids myself."

Jacqui raised an eyebrow. Now, this was interesting.

"My ex-husband and I were total attached parents. We took Violet everywhere and when the twins came, we did the same thing. With Wyatt, we had just started the fund, so it was a little more difficult, but we managed. But then my ex left for Australia to go on a 'walkabout.'" She made quotations with her fingers and, seeing the girls' confused looks, explained. "It's one of those

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things the aborigines do, to find out who they are. It's been a year and a half and he's still looking." She threw up her hands, as if shrugging it off. "In the middle of our divorce, I found out I was pregnant with Cassidy. Since he was born, the fund's taken off, and I've found that I barely have time to see to my own needs, much less theirs. And the last thing I want to be is a slacker mom. So I've decided to reevaluate my nurturing methods." She leaned forward, her intelligent brown eyes flashing. "Here's the deal. I just want you guys to think of me as your manager."

Mara wrinkled her brow in worry and turned to Jacqui, whose lips were curling in amusement.

"By that I mean, since I can't be a full-time parent anymore, on the floor and in the thick of things, I need you girls to be me--to think of my children a

s your children. To do everything that I would do if I had the time." Suzy grabbed a stack of child-care books that were sitting behind her and pushed them down the table. Your Baby and Child. Dr. Spock. What to Expect the First Year. The No-Cry Sleep Solution. The Happiest Baby on the Block. The Contented Little Baby. How to Talk to a Teenager. Encouraging Your Gifted Child.

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