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“Largely so, yes. Honestly, it’s hard to goworsethan that one.”
“That’s very true. God.” He gusted a breath. “I can’t even imagine. Losing a child…”
His words trailed off. Though she could only see a sliver of his face in the slender mirror, she had no trouble reading the muted, oblique conflict there.Did he lose a child? He said he wasn’t married, but that doesn’t mean there wasn’t a baby in the picture.“Are you all right?”
“Hm? Yes. Sorry. I was just thinking about how hard that must have been for them. Do you always want to be a nanny? Some people make lifetimes of it.” The smile returned to his lips, though duller this time.
“I’ve been thinking about changing lines of work soon. Nanny work was convenient, and it was there when I needed it, but I think it’s time to go a different way.” Aware of how that sounded, she added, “Not that I don’t want this job! For as long as I’m needed. I just might look for something else when it’s over.”
“No judgement here,” he said. “There’s a point where you’re not quite done, and you’re just waiting for the right note to go out on.”
“Yes. Exactly. And this job is offering–”Don’t talk about your potential pay with other employees. Bad impression. Even if it’s offering enough for me to live on for three years, just in the first year alone.“It’s offering a really unique circumstance to take advantage of. I think it would set me up well to change directions in my life.”
“So, if it does, what direction do you want to go?”
“I’m not sure. I like solving problems. Finding knots in a process and unravelling them. Greasing the wheels, wrestling with logistics, laying out the best path to a goal. There’s no better feeling than conquering an obstacle.” She spread her hands wide. “That ‘ta-da, it’s all better now’ moment. When I was a kid, I loved television programs and books about fixers. Solvers. I saw a documentary on the logistics people who work at parcel delivery companies and thought that sounded fun, but it takes schooling. So I thought about going into event planning, at least to start.”
“With that kind of passion? You should. It takes a special kind of person to think logistical nightmares are ‘fun’.” He turned his head so he could actually look at her, instead of her reflection. “Tell your new boss that. He’ll love it. I’m serious. Do a good job for him, and this job might set you up better than you realize.”
“You think so?”
“Trust me. There’s a party in the offing right now at the house, and that means they know the value of a problem solver. He’s got a big company. I imagine there has to be a place for someone like you.” Another grin, and he looked back toward the road. “Even if you drink milk from the carton. Barbarian.”
“Peanut butter monster.”
The road took a lazy turn around a wooded hill, and Hanna forgot the driver’s legume-flavored sins. When she’d heard that her potential job would take her to an English country house, she’d conjured an image in her mind of the gingerbread manors and rose gardens she’d seen in the movies. Immediately after, she’d dismissed that image as silly, hopelessly American, and unrealistic.
That image stood at the end of the drive in all its ruddy stone glory. Bay windows looked out over the rolling green hills from which the home had taken its name. Crow-stepped gables decorated the tops of the edifice, above which watched a small cupola with a weather vane. Around the imposing structure grew gardens of true English roses, full of colorful, velvety blooms that turned their faces towards the scant sunlight. Benches sat in between the rose beds, as did small birdbaths and fountains that bubbled clear water out of white, sculpted stone.
“What do you think?” he asked.
Hanna hadn’t realized the car had stopped until he spoke. She blinked herself out of gawking. “It’sbeautiful.It’sridiculouslybeautiful. It’s– It’s like stepping into someone else’s fairytale. Stories always talk about the princess arriving to her summer home. They don’t mention how the hired help must feel.”
“Sounds like someone needs to write a better story.” He ducked out of the car and walked around to open her door. “Then welcome to someone else’s fairytale, Miss Sparrow.”
She stretched one foot out to rest on the ground. A tiny shiver ran through her leg as she did.Great. My foot fell asleep. I’m going to faceplant on this beautiful driveway.Careful not to embarrass herself, she pulled herself out of the vehicle to stand in front of the manor, the potential governess in another person’s tale of the English countryside.
The chauffeur closed the door, then stepped up to stand beside her. “It’s a pretty place.”
“Yes. Yes, it is.” She glanced over at him to quirk a little smile. “You know, not many people get to be in fairytales at all. I think I’m just as glad to be in someone else’s. It means I’ve gotten to be in one.”
“Maybe it will be yours, too,” he said. His fingertips brushed her hand, just for a heartbeat, before he drew away. “Follow me. I’m supposed to take you straight to the office to meet the boss. Don’t worry about your bags. They’ll be brought in and taken to your room. See? Fairytale. You don’t have to feel bad about dragging the wheeled suitcase over marble floors and making a racket.”
She blushed. “I was kind of worried about that.”
“So was I. If you ever want to feel like a heathen, that’s a good place to start.”
And she would have felt like a heathen. Whatever diligent soul had charge of the floors here, they’d polished the surface until Hanna could have used them to get ready in the morning. Carpet runners that probably cost as much as the car outside provided surfaces to walk on without guilt about marring the floor polish. The rest of the decor matched the colors in the rugs, warm tones that echoed through expensive paintings, antique hangings, and fresh flowers in delicate vases that sat atop hardwood furniture.
Greenhill Hall had earned its place in a fairytale. Hanna had never seen a more beautiful, more perfect example of a vision brought to life by the hands of master craftsmen.Someone has to have lived happily ever after here. There’s no justice in the world if they haven’t. But, these perfect floors, the neatness… If they need a nanny, where is the child?
The hairs on the backs of her arms tingled and stood. Her skin prickled, from the top of her spine, down her nerves, to the tips of her fingers and toes. A chill breath of air gusted past her.
“Miss Sparrow?”
She’d stopped walking. “What? Oh. I’m really sorry. I’ve just never seen anything like this,” she said, then chuckled. “Would you believe my first thought was that I want to try putting on socks and sliding across this floor?”
His laughter echoed from the walls and vaulted ceiling. “Nowthatsounds like a good time. This way. The office is on the ground floor.”
