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Corey shrugged. “I’ve been waiting for Alex to send me some code, I can’t go on without it.”
I nodded. “Who’s the best programmer you know, for mobile apps?”
Corey gave it some thought.
“Mac Moorcroft.”
I closed my eyes briefly. Not a name I was hoping to hear. “Get me Mac Moorcroft’s email address.”
“Who?”
“Google it,” I said, going into my office and closing the door behind me.
But I already had Mac’s number on my phone. And I was pretty sure the number hadn’t changed. I was sure he wouldn’t talk to me. Not after what had happened to his sister. But this was my business and I needed to find the best of the best.
He was Zoë’s uncle after all, and he hadn’t seen her in years. I sent him a breezy text, inviting him over for dinner and then I went home, determined to find Nikki, and convince her to give us a shot. But as I was going down the elevator, I saw a text from her. She was resigning as nanny. The job she wanted was back on again and it was too good an opportunity to pass up on.
Also, she was allergic to cats.
Chapter 9
Nikki
That evening, I made chicken for dinner.
“This is good!” said Will, helping himself tomore.
“It’s fried chicken,” I said, rolling my eyes. “Basically, chicken rolled in flour and fried in oil.”
“Shelley never made chicken,” commented Zoë. “Or anything, really. Right Dad?”
Will laughed and nodded.
“I believe she knew how to use the toaster.”
“And the kettle!”
“But her abilities stopped there.” He paused, “We used to have a lot of toasted sandwiches for dinner.”
I found this hard to believe.
“Oh, sure. Ham, cheese, and tomato; bacon and feta. Chili, tomato, and chorizo,” he started naming a few combinations.
“Chicken and mayo, tuna melt and my personal favorite, bacon and egg,” said Zoë happily.
“And before Shelley?”
Will thought. “It was Yelena, right?”
Zoë pulled a face. “She couldn’t cook.”
Will leaned closer and said in an exaggerated whisper, “A lot of stews. I think that was her idea of healthy meals.”
“No wonder you were happy with toasted sarnies after that! I’ve picked up a few things from Simone,” I said. “But where she tends to go for fancy, I am more basic.”
“Like?” Will asked.
“Well, I do like French cuisine.”
