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FOUR
THEO
The drive into Portland is familiar and though it takes me almost two hours, it’s something I enjoy. Two hours of quiet, of time to think and process. In the last twenty-four hours, I’ve made decisions I normally wouldn’t. Hiring a nanny without a complete background check? Unheard of, but what choice did I have? Nevertheless, I googled Hadley’s brother last night to verify a part of her story. He’s the CEO of Gerard Fine Foods, which owns and operates a chain of small gourmet grocery stores. It seems to be a family-owned business, and I wonder if there’s a position waiting for her at the end of the summer. Maybe that’s why she’s living out of van; maybe she’s running from her responsibilities. A pang of jealousy twitches inside me. What I wouldn’t give for that kind of freedom, if only for one day.
This drive, though, is a sort of respite from my duties as a father, as is the condo I keep in Portland. When Serena was still around, I stayed in Portland during the week and returned to Seaside on the weekends. It was easier, but it allowed me to miss every single warning sign that something was off. If I had been more present, maybe I would have seen through her duplicity.
The minute I arrive at my office, I send an email to a private investigator I’ve used in the past to conduct a background check on my new nanny. I can’t let another snake into my garden.
The day rushes by in a blur of client meeting after client meeting. They are all happy to see me in person, excited to have me back in the office so I can continue to expand their already enormous wealth.
“I haven’t stopped working for you, Bob,” I tell one of the clients when he cracks a joke about my home office.
“I know, but it’s not the same,” he says with a wink.
What he means is I haven’t been at his beck and call.
At the end of the day, the results of Hadley’s background check arrive in my email. I wasn’t expecting them so soon, but the sooner I learn who’s in my house taking care of my children, the quicker I can decide whether she stays or goes.
There’s a knock on the door to my office and Kat, my secretary, appears. “Jim Irvine is on the line. He wants to take you out to dinner.”
I sit back in my chair, remove my glasses, and rub my eyes. “Did he say where?”
“Le Pigeon.”
How long has it been since I dined in a restaurant without a kid’s menu? “Tell him I’ll meet him,” I say, closing out the email and saving Hadley’s fate for another day.
My phone rings as I take the elevator down to the lobby. It’s a number I don’t immediately recognize but the area code says Atlanta, which means I must answer.
“Everything okay?” I ask.
“Yeah,” Hadley says casually. “We wanted to check in.”
“Oh,” I respond. “That’s not necessary, unless there’s an emergency.”
“You don’t want to know what your children have been up to all day? Didn’t you give me some big speech last night about trusting me?”
“I had a friend of mine run a background check. You’re clear,” I say, hoping the lie doesn’t come back and bite me in the ass. I might have opened the email, but the report is still unread.
“Told you.” There’s a hint of a Southern twang in her sass, which I like.
“I’m on my way to dinner with a client. I’ll check in tomorrow morning.”
“You’re not going to call and tell the kids good night?”
“No,” I say, but instantly regret it. Am I a bad father for not wanting to talk to my kids before they go to bed? For not wanting to hear how many dogs Piper saw today or what video game Colton played with his friends? “Call me if there’s an emergency. Otherwise, I’ll speak with you in the morning.”
The call ends and I walk to the town car idling at the curb, sliding into the plush leather back seat. As we travel to the restaurant, the scenery changes from sleek high-rises to tree-lined streets until we reach Burnside.
Something is off, though. I feel it deep inside me throughout dinner. I go through the motions of entertaining one of my most loyal clients, listening to him brag about his latest exploits all the while enjoying expensive bottles of French red wine, which he knows I enjoy. Soon, my doubts about being away from Piper and Colton, about Hadley, about returning to the city to work, drown in the tannins dancing on my tongue with each sip, with each empty bottle.
“It’s good to see you,” Jim comments. “I’ve missed our dinners.”
“Life took an unexpected turn,” I tell him. Only a few people know anything about Serena leaving, and no matter how much I’ve had to drink, those secrets will stay locked away. “Hopefully, the newest nanny I hired will last more than a week.”
Jim laughs. It’s loud and annoying, setting my nerves on edge. I did not miss this part of my job. Pretending. I hate pretending because I am not Jim’s friend; I manage his vast fortune. I get creative when necessary to hide money from one of his many ex-wives, and I did not miss these dinners, no matter how good the food or how rich the wine.
“I fucked our nanny,” he states bluntly. “She lasted five years.”
