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Thismorninghastobe nicknamed the comedy of errors or some such shit. Because there is no way all of these ‘incidents’ are accidental. There has to be a hidden camera somewhere. Any minute now I expect someone to jump from behind a bush or burst into my office and say ‘gotcha!’ And now would be a good time.
Anything is better than listening to this Marge, Margo or whatever her name is, ramble on and on about how good she is with children, all while trying to poke my eye out with her chest and stifle me with her nauseating perfume. Even the waitresses in my clubs know better than to come across as this overtly sexual.
“So-o, as you can see from, like, my super fantastic resumé, I’m, like,awesomewith kids and all. And I’m even better with their parents.” She’s doing that eyelash batting thing again and her smile reminds me of a shark. It absolutely sickens me.
She leans forward and I quickly avert my eyes from the not-so-subtle jiggle of her breasts and the buttons straining to break free. She wets her lips and looks at me coyly.
“I’m sure my references will, like, tell you how great I am. That is, if you even need them, if you know what I mean. I—”
I cut her abruptly. “I’m sure they would. Please ensure that they are attached to your resumé.” I stand and extend my hand. “It was lovely meeting you, Miss Hanson.”
“Why so formal? I told you to call me Margo-o!” She laughs and bats her lashes once more.
I walk around and help her to her feet, making it clear that the interview is over. She totters, leaning slightly into me, and I am engulfed in the stifling scent of her perfume that threatens to make my eyes water from the sheer intensity, not to mention pungency.
I pull away slightly and step ahead of her, opening the door and ensuring that I stand far enough away to not give her an excuse to press against me as she passes. Nevertheless, she stops in the doorway.
“So, when can I start?”
“I beg your pardon?” I blink, not sure I am hearing correctly.
“The job? When do I start?”
“Oh! Well, I am still in the process of interviewing candidates.”
“But now that you’ve, like, found the right person for the job, there’s no need to, like, continue, now is there?” She looks at me expectantly.
“That would not be very fair to the other applicants, now would it? How would you have felt if you were called while waiting for the interview to be told that the vacancy has been filled? I at least have to interview the others to make it seem like a fair choice, right?” I throw in a wink for good measure.
She smiles like the cat who ate the canary and attempts to step into my space. I step away and proceed down the corridor, heading for the front door. The rapid clicks of her heels on the tiled floors tell me she is not far behind.
As I reach my destination, I pull it open and step outside. She follows. I turn to find her fumbling in her purse.
“I’ve been dying for one to settle my nerves all morning.”
I look on in horror as she lights up a cigarette. She takes a puff and sighs. “That’s better. I’ll be waiting for your call.”
She winks once more before tottering down the steps. I watch her go, more to ensure that she does not break her neck and sue me, than to show any real interest. As soon as she is on the walkway. I turn and head inside.
I head back to the office. What a morning it has been! When I had set the interviews for the daytime nanny, I had not anticipated so many applications. It seems as if Sylvia was right when she said I would be in over my head.
“Mr. Forbes, I honestly don’t mind juggling both shifts if I need to, right now. Summer is not the best time to be seeking the kind of nanny we need for Ryan. You won’t find anything long-term, that’s for sure. It’s going to be all college students or teachers on break. Then the resignations will come rolling in at the end of August and we’ll be back to square one.” She had been knee deep in Ryan’s toys as she searched for a particular one he was missing and had been fussing about all morning.
“Well, the way Ryan has been running through his nannies, short-term may be more suitable. How about we give it a shot and see what we can come up with to fill the gap? I know you love him like your own child, but it would be very unfair of me to ask you to do both shifts. He is a restless sleeper.” I had stopped short of reminding her of the mornings I had come in to check on Ryan only to find her half asleep with him on her lap.
“But at least he’s sleeping.”
“Let’s do the ads and see who applies.”
And man have I seen! I run my hand through my hair as I reflect on the past three days. I have already dismissed the idea of those who came on those first two days. They had ranged from grandmothers looking to get a little extra on their pension to teenagers fresh out of high school. And the ones in between who I thought were passable, had not sparked any interest in Ryan at all. He had not so much as looked at them to acknowledge their presence much less to have them engage him in conversation. And therein lay the problem with his previous nannies. Whatever shell he was in had only been broken by Sylvia and myself. Occasionally, he would open up and have a conversation with the chef at mealtimes, but that was it.
I check my appointment book, sighing with relief when I realize that Margo was the last applicant for the day. I shudder inwardly at the thought of Margo in a room with Ryan. But Summer Madison is another experience altogether. I try to push aside an awareness that had come over me the second I saw her get out of the car. But it is hard to look past the impression she made on my libido when she lay sprawled at my feet.
I swallow hard as I remember how the black lace panties hugged her butt. My imagination had immediately flown to images of peeling it off her supple thighs and what her skin would feel like under my fingertips. I am not the kind of man that has his head turned by every skirt. Margo’s a perfect example. But Summer stirred me up somewhat. And not just physically. I pride myself on being a good judge of character and she strikes me as intelligent.
I like that in a woman.
Her experience as an early childhood teacher is going to prove to be an asset. I think perhaps she can give me some insight into how to handle my six-year-old son as a single father. I had not signed up for this when Ryan came into my life. But I would give my last breath to raise him, If only I could figure him out. Summer comes to mind again and a sense of calm washes over me as I think about her.
