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“Thanks a lot,” I grumbled.
“You’re welcome, Mommy!” she exclaimed, not picking up on the slight sarcasm. We didn’t have to wait long until the door was opened by an honest-to-God goddess.
“You’re here!” the woman greeted excitedly.
“W-we’re here,” I stammered, feeling slightly intimidated by the radiant woman. I nearly squinted when the sun caught the massive rock on her finger.
Somebody loves this woman very much.
“I’m Simone, and you must be Kierra and Kiyah. Oh, my goodness. She’s so adorable,” Simone gushed.
Nothing prepared me for Simone. I hadn’t expected her to be Black, like me. It was comforting, making me feel like I wasn’t so out of place in Jonathan’s well-to-do neighborhood.
Simone is all smiles, so they can’t be too bad.
“Come in. I’m sure Kiyah will be excited to meet all the other little ones,” she said, stepping back to allow us to enter.
“Is that a Rembrandt?” I asked immediately, astounded at the entryway piece. Simone smiled her million-dollar smile.
“You know your stuff. Jonathan is an art buff himself. Let’s go to the kitchen and drop off your dish, and then we can introduce Kiyah to the kids if that’s okay with you.”
“That’s great,” I agreed, handing over the pan of rice dressing I made.
“God, I can smell it through the pan. It smells delicious. I’m so excited you’re here!”
“I bet. Being a nanny to three children can be exhausting.”
“Oh, no. I think you may have the wrong idea about my excitement,” she said, placing my dish on the counter. “It gets a little lonely out here if you know what I mean.”
I smirked. “What? The friendly housewives don’t invite you to the spa with them?”
Simone chuckled and shook her head. “Exactly. No one has been outright rude to me, but I get the cold shoulder at the park or on the walking trails.”
“What did you expect? They can’t be seen mingling with the help,” I joked, feeling a little less apprehensive about the get-together. Simone was already proving to be easy to talk to, and I could tell her friendliness wasn’t forced.
“Silly me for trying, right?”
“It’s fine. We can do our own thing,” I said presumptuously.
“I’d like that. Can I get you ladies anything to drink?”
“Do you have juice?” Kiyah asked.
“Do I have juice? I have every single juice you can imagine,” Simone said, leading Kiyah to the restaurant-quality refrigerator. Kiyah studied the rows of juices and finally settled on an organic apple juice.
“Let me help you,” Simone offered, accepting the box from Kiyah.
“I noticed that all of Jonathan’s snacks in his office are healthy and organic. Is that the same at home?”
Simone nodded and handed the juice to Kiyah. “Whole Foods or Trader Joe’s; organic, hormone-free, cage-free, grass-fed, and free-roam.”
“Geez. I’d hate to see that…grocery…bill,” I commented. I was completely caught off guard when she opened a kitchen drawer and slid a grocery receipt in front of me. “Um…is this weekly or bi-weekly?”
“Weekly,” she confirmed.
“Jesus…Kiyah and I could eat off of this for three months.”
“I understand the sticker shock. I was the same way when I first moved out here. You get used to it. Plus, it hurts less when you realize it’s not your money. Would you like something to drink? We have water, sangria, sodas, wine, beer—you name it.”
