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“Oh, dear,” Bess murmured while Lily wailed as I handed off t
he balloon to the kid. Who pushed it back at me with disgust, ignoring his parents’ admonishments, due to the “dog slobber” all over the string.
What a lovely child. No wonder I didn’t want to be anyone’s nanny.
Spotting a temporary food vendor a few feet away near the gazebo, I offered the kid my brightest smile. “How about I buy you a hot dog to make up for what happened?”
The kid grinned, his tears drying in a flash. Dad wasn’t as impressed as he gripped his son’s shoulder. “Stafford doesn’t eat processed meats.”
“How about a comic at the store?” Bess leaned in and gave Stafford a conspiratorial smile. “I’ll trade you the balloon for a comic, how’s that?”
Warily, the kid nodded, side-eyeing his father.
“He’s just fine. I’ll get you another balloon.” The father was about to pitch it in the nearest garbage can when I plucked it out of his hand and passed it to Lily.
Who beamed brighter than the sun.
Once Stafford and his stern-faced parents continued on, Bess flashed me a huge smile and nudged the stroller forward. Lily was quiet and content, bobbing the balloon. Any minute now, she’d shove the string in her mouth. “You’ve got a way about you, Hannah. What’s your last name, by the way?”
I was worn out enough by the last few minutes that I couldn’t do anything other than smile weakly. I needed to get a bottle of water or something. The relentless sunshine was actually making me feel dizzy. “Jacobs.”
“Are you all right, sweetheart?” She gripped my arm and towed me up the street. “Let’s get us some fro-yo. You look like you need some sugar.”
Maybe I did. I wasn’t sure what I needed right now.
“Just say you’ll think about the job,” she added as the silence stretched between us. “Sleep on it tonight, then we’ll talk tomorrow. How’s that?”
Saying anything other than no to her felt like a dangerous proposition, but I was weakening because of the revolving yogurt sign in the window of the shop just ahead of us. Right now, I’d say anything to put a pause on this conversation for a little while. “Yes, tomorrow.”
Six
“You did what now?”
“I pre-screened a nanny for you. There is no reason for you to even interview her. My instincts say she’s right on the money, and she has tons of work references.”
I pressed a fingertip to the muscle jumping in my temple. One of these days, I’d just name it after my grandmother and be done with it. “Tons of nanny references?”
My grandmother suddenly got busy straightening the magazines fanned out on her coffee table. “Tons of work references,” she repeated.
To give myself a moment, I walked down the hall to my grandmother’s homey blue-and-yellow kitchen to pour myself a glass of orange juice. That I didn’t add a shot of vodka was a miracle.
I’d taken a rare Saturday off to hopefully relax and spend time with Lily and my grandmother. I needed desperately to unwind after the endless meetings I’d endured all week.
All month.
All year, it seemed like.
Trying to fill in for the salesman who had split with our client list was a full-time job in itself, never mind doing my own job and dealing with dwindling circulation numbers and all the rest of the fires that needed handling on a daily basis.
To say I was fried was an understatement.
Now my grandmother was pulling the rug out from under me and hitting me in the head with it.
When I was reasonably certain I wouldn’t snap at her, I returned to the living room. She was now dusting the mantel. The mantel she hadn’t dusted in my presence in years.
Who was this woman she’d invited to her home?
“Look, I know you mean well,” I began, sitting in the navy blue armchair that had once been my grandfather’s.
