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I’m suddenly very conscious of my torn jeans, black tank top, and old Birkenstock sandals. I wonder what she makes of me as I approach.
“You must be Haley,” she says, her red-painted lips widening into a warm smile against her snow-white veneers. Maybe she’s a celebrity—an actress of some sort. She fits the bill.
“Yes, um, I mean, ma’am—I hope you don’t mind that I’ve come a bit earlier than you requested. I wanted to make sure there was time to get acquainted with the girls and to take in any guidelines you might have.”
“Oh my God, please don’t call me ma’am,” she laughs, sliding her mouth to the side. “That makes me feel ancient. Just call me Lara.”
I cover my mouth, worried I’ve offended her before stepping foot inside the house. “I’m so sorry. You don’t look old, not at all. You’re gorgeous.” I sound as nervous as I feel. “In fact, you’re striking—that emerald-green color complements you so beautifully.”
Lara places her hand on her tan, freckled chest. “You are so sweet. Thank you,” she says, taking the compliment. Although by the look of her faint dimpled smile, she seems more embarrassed than flattered.
“Your house is beautiful,” I add, knowing that it will have to be the last of my compliments for a few minutes. I don’t want her to think I’m trying to butter her up to be in good standing for the job.
“It is something else, isn’t it?” she says, gesturing for me to follow her inside.
The foyer greets us with a harmony of light and modern décor. There’s an overwhelming sense of space with a large round table centered beneath a dazzling chandelier. Two living areas are set off to each side, a grand stairwell to the right and a path that leads to another area of the house beyond the short hallway across the room. The walls are bright, flat white with matching intricately decorated trim. The artwork along the walls is large and abstract and it makes me think she hired someone to decorate. As large as this house is, I can’t say I blame her.
“The girls are patiently waiting for you in the back of the great room. Follow me,” she says, taking an envelope off the foyer table and leading me down the short hallway into another open space. The kitchen and dining room veer off to one side and we take two shallow steps down to another room. This must be the great room as I spot the two adorable young girls sitting quietly on the sofa. With a wall of floor to ceiling windows behind them, the space feels wide open and endless as the view stares out over the cliff toward the ocean.
“I am so excited to meet you, girls,” I tell them, leaning down to bring myself to their eye-level. “I’m Haley. What are your names?”
The girls stare at me with wide eyes and don’t answer right away. Their legs dangle from the couch, swishing from side to side almost in unison. “Girls, don’t be shy. Madden is on the left and that’s Blakely on the right,” Lara introduces them.
It appears they’re identical, but Madden’s duckling blonde hair is chin-length while Blakely’s is in waves draped over hershoulders. They have beautiful hazel eyes and are dressed like little dolls in matching paisley blue rompers.
“I love your names. They’re very pretty,” I tell them, crouching to my knees so I’m not hovering over them. “I got here a bit early so your mom could show me around before she and your dad leave. Maybe you could help!”
“That’s a wonderful idea,” Lara agrees. “Why don’t we show Haley your bedrooms and the bathrooms.” She nudges her head to the side and grits her teeth to get them to move. I wonder how many nannies and babysitters they’ve been around. They seem so shy. “My husband should be down to meet you soon. He was just finishing up when you arrived. You know men—they think they need five minutes to get ready, but they end up needing twice as much time as we do.”
I laugh to be polite, but I don’t have much experience sharing space and time with a man, except the year I was in a relationship.
The girls walk ahead of me, giving each other inquisitive glances every few steps as if they’re sharing a silent language only the two of them know. I’ve read a lot about twins and know it’s a common trait they share. They’re often so close that they exchange thoughts with just a look.
“So, what are your favorite hobbies?” I ask them while we head up the stairwell.
“Madden likes mermaids and I like to draw and color,” Blakely says.
“She’s right. I do like mermaids,” Madden follows but with less fervor in her response compared to Blakely’s.
“Like Ariel?” I question.
“No, like the real mermaids that live in the ocean,” Madden replies with a hint of haste.
Lara peers over her shoulder and widens her eyes in suit with a smirk.
“Well, we have that in common then because I also love mermaids,” I say. “Do you like to swim?”
“No,” Madden says. “I can’t swim.”
“But we’re learning,” Lara interrupts with a sarcastic chuckle.
“Oh my gosh. I was the worst swimmer at that age. I think I had arm floaties until I was twelve,” I add with laughter.
“Same. That’s so funny,” Lara follows.
We reach the first bedroom and Blakely steps ahead. “This is my room.” I would have guessed by the color on the walls.
“Bubblegum pink is one of my favorite colors, too,” I say.Or it was when I was their age. “It’s such a happy color.” I stop to take in the color coordinated polka dots along the stark white comforter and matching drapes. It looks like a little girl’s dream room.
