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dragged her back to where the boys were waiting for their answer. "She'll do it!"
"Brilliant!" Marcus cried, grabbing four flutes of champagne from the nearest waiter while Midas got his camera out again to capture the moment.
I'm just being a good friend, Jacqui thought as she glanced at Eliza's beaming face. She couldn't very well have said no. And besides, a little modeling here and there shouldn't interfere with her au pair duties at all. How hard could it be to mix kids and couture?
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www.blogspot/hamptonsaupair1
it's 10 pm --do you know where your children are?
This week flew by crazy fast. Time flies when the kids have jam-packed schedules. Thought it would be hard to get back in caregiver groove, but the job's turning out to be nothing but a glorified chauffeur gig. Kids are either in class, a seminar, or a tutorial every second of every minute of the day. Their mother, S., says it's good for them. But is it good for them never to see their mom? S. is up at 4 a.m., when the London stock market opens, and works till 10 p.m. each night. Every time she sees me and J., she grills us on the children, but I'm not so sure her hands-off managerial style is the best way to raise your kids. Then again, she's the one with millions of dollars and an enormous empire, so what do I know about management?
On the plus side, the kids are v. independent. Logan and Jackson are self-contained and have amazing imaginations. The other day they asked if they could have a referendum on a later bedtime. They explained that they wanted the nursery run as a democracy. Unfortunately, they lost their bid in appeals court. J. and I voted 2-0 on the eight o'clock statute. Took Violet to a birthday party for a friend
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at her mom's insistence yesterday. Twenty-four twelve-year-olds sipping mocktails and having makeovers at the Burberry store in Bridgehampton. There were manipedi stations, massages, blowouts, and a DJ blasting hip-hop. Those twelve-year-olds know how to party! But Violet spent the afternoon standing in one corner talking to no one. Sad.
love is in the air. ...
J. has a massive crush on a cute Aussie photog named M. Poor Pete from Indiana is of course long forgotten. Every time J.'s phone rings, she runs to get it and is disappointed when it's just our boss, S., reminding us to make sure the kids are doing their Mensa quizzes. As far as I can tell, J. and M., who she'll be working with a lot this summer, have a strictly business relationship--so far. Which, I'm sure, means lots of subtle eyelash-batting and coquetry on the part of my Brazilian friend. Will be sure to update on the status of this "business partnership."
In other news, E. is engaged!!!! Engaged!!!!! Insane. So excited for the first wedding! Wonder if she's having bridesmaids? Must remember to ask her next time I see her--she hasn't said a word about the wedding, and I haven't seen her much since the store opening. These days, the papers seem to have more info on the blushing bride than I do. The media's been in a frenzy with E.'s engagement, which is great for her career, if not for her love life, since the publicity's done wonders for her super-busy store. Will have to grill her during our next weekly catch-up meal.
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except i'm out of oxygen
I tried. I really did. Every time D. sent a sweet text or e-mail--mind you, never a call--I told myself that was the most he could do. But frankly, a girl's got needs. And this girl needed to spill the beans. The day before yesterday, I sent him a sort of nasty e-mail telling him the total truth: that part of me wishes he was here, but the other part wishes he'd drown in a Venetian canal for ditching me at the airport. Okay, so maybe the overly harsh wording was fueled by a glass of red wine. And maybe honesty is not the best policy, as I haven't heard from him since. Should I grovel for forgiveness, or be smugly satisfied that his silence proves my point exactly?
Till next time,
HamptonsAuPair1
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MARA FEELS ROASTED OVER THE COALS
THE FOURTH OF JULY WAS BLAZING HOT, THE SUN SHINING and the skies a cloudless blue. Perfect weather for an afternoon barbecue. Outside, the pool was sparkling and hummingbirds were chirping in the imported dwarf cherry trees.
Mara turned from the window and took one last look in the mirror, fluffing her hair and putting on one more layer of lip gloss. She was wearing the white string bikini with a gauzy embroidered peasant top and a pair of simple tan leather flip-flops. Jacqui had loaned her a pair of vintage Ray-Ban aviators, and she was all set.
"How do I look?" she asked, walking out of the bathroom and striking a pose for Jacqui, who had wandered into their room.
Jacqui grinned. "Like you're armed for battle."
"What does that mean?" Mara asked, puzzled.
But Jacqui just shook her head and continued overturning the pillows and rugs as she looked for Cassidy's pacifier.
"Seriously, what are you getting at?" Mara prodded.
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"Nothing. Just have fun, okay?" Jacqui said gently. Mara would never admit to it, but Jacqui understood what Mara was doing. She wanted to let Ryan know what he was missing. And her bikini-clad body would certainly remind him.
Jacqui decided to hold her tongue--she'd been around long enough to know that the saga of Mara and Ryan never ended. Those two were either always on the verge of making up or breaking up. Mara couldn't live with Ryan, but apparently she couldn't live without him either. But you could never tell that to someone. They had to find out on their own, especially concerning matters of the heart.
