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To her husband, Mr. Hilborne: “Aren’t you glad you retired so you can see how little your own children care about visiting you? What are you even going to do now? Gardening? Ha!”
The worst part of all of it was that no one remarked on the things she said. In fact, they all seemed to take it in stride like she was simply the person and personality they were used to.
If my own mom had talked to me like that all my life and when I was growing up, I would’ve shriveled up and died. I suddenly had so much compassion for Graham that it was hard to breathe. What had it been like growing up under that kind of parenting? No wonder he was afraid he wasn’t doing a good job with Collins.
We all sat down for dinner, and I must have looked tense. Graham pressed my thigh beneath the tablecloth in a way that, in any other situation, might have been sexual, but instead, it was comforting and grounding. I was glad I’d been seated next to him and by Collins. If I’d come within arm’s distance of Mrs. Hilborne, I couldn’t guarantee that I could be held responsible for my actions.
A small army of wait staff brought us our various plates, and I was surprised to see that Collins was given precisely the same food as the rest of the adults—stuffed mushrooms, rack of lamb, roasted duck, and a myriad of other dishes I couldn’t even identify. It was a feast, but not one that took into consideration the palate of a precocious four-year-old, even if she was an adventurous eater. I felt like I had to reassure her ahead of this onslaught of cuisine. It was funny, ridiculous, and precious all at the same time.
“Oh, yum,” I murmured to her, shoving a big mushroom into my mouth. “Remember our grilled cheese sandwiches yesterday afternoon for lunch?”
“But this isn’t a sandwich,” Collins whispered back. “What is it?”
“A mushroom.”
“Is that a type of bread?”
“Kind of,” I hedged. “It’s yummy, though. Try a bite?”
I was thankful the wait staff had been compassionate enough to give Collins the cuts of meat that were more well done than medium-rare. We got through enough of her plate to reassure me she wasn’t going to wither away.
“Well, I just think it’s a shame you can’t convince your nanny to stay on,” Mrs. Hilborne was saying when I finally tuned back into the adult conversation.
“She’s retiring,” Graham said, taking a sip of his wine. “Medical reasons.”
“That’s no excuse,” she scoffed.
“Excuse me,” I said. “That’s my mother you’re talking about. She had a heart attack.”
“Carol’s heart is right here,” Collins added, patting her chest solemnly. “And so is mine.”
“Sweetie, you don’t have to worry about your heart until you’re an old lady like Grandmother,” Mrs. Hilborne said. “Which is why you need a young nanny.” She eyed me. “Younger than this one.”
Graham laughed. “No. Please tell me no.”
“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re going on about,” Mrs. Hilborne said, huffing and puffing and completely indignant. It was the biggest tell in the universe, and I was here to witness Graham calling her out on it.
“You’re the one, aren’t you?” he asked, draining the rest of his wine. A staff member darted in to refill it, but he waved them off. “The person who has been sending me inept women to ‘interview’ for the nanny position.”
“It’s not my fault you’re so picky,” she retorted. “At least I’m actually searching for someone instead of relying on your nanny’s daughter.”
“Heather is a licensed child psychologist.”
“Perfect,” Mrs. Hilborne declared, tipping her wine glass in my direction. “Why doesn’t she stay on, then?”
“I actually live in New York,” I said before Graham squeezed my leg again. This time, it was a warning: Do not engage. “I’m planning on returning to the East Coast soon.”
“Heather is graciously here on a temporary basis,” he said. “Until another nanny can be located.”
“What the child needs is a mother.”
I gulped and immediately redirected my attention to Collins. “Hey, did you try this bite on your plate? I found out that when I mixed it with this other one, it wasreallygood.”
“How good?” Collins asked suspiciously as I painstakingly constructed the bite in question on her plate.
“Well, maybe if you had just tried a little harder with Josie, none of this would be an issue,” Mrs. Hilborne said, primly patting her thin lips with the fabric napkin.
Graham turned abruptly to me with a smile that looked like someone was physically yanking up the corners of his mouth. It legitly looked painful.
