“Wow, this is some place!” I told her, doing my best to shut down my worst impulses.
“I know, it’s a little over the top,” she agreed. “My husband grew up with the best of everything. So sometimes we spend more than we should.”
“Like paying nannies’ salaries,” I said teasingly.
She laughed. “I knew I was going to really like you. Come in and meet Milo.”
I could almost hear my mother, like she was in the room with me. Good. Get her laughing. Listen. Don’t interrupt. Put her at ease. Find out everything you can. Make her trust you.
“Stop it,” I muttered as I followed Mrs. Crawford.
She turned her head. “Did you say something?”
“No,” I responded, trying to smile. I worried that everything my mother had taught me had been so ingrained that I couldn’t help but take advantage of other people. I suppose in this case I sort of was, but not for a selfish reason. It was for Alice. Okay, maybe that was selfish because I needed her alive. There was no one in the world I loved more than my sister.
But I wasn’t ripping them off. They were paying for a service that I was going to render. Just maybe not in the exact way that they had hoped for.
I was going to have to watch my thoughts, what I said. Telling these lies to get this job had been too easy. It was like having a coat that was too small, too constricting, and shoving it to the back of your closet, then pulling it out years later and finding that it was comfortable and fit perfectly.
It was a slippery slope and I was going to have to be careful.
I’d had all these questions about Milo, wondering what kind of kid he would be. If he’d be easy to get along with, or if he was the type who hated his nannies and would try to get me fired. Considering his mother’s unrealistic expectations for this job, I had to imagine that she had the same sort of expectations for her only child. There were probably all sorts of things he was forbidden from doing. Like eating sugar or watching TV or playing video games. All things I could use in my battle to win the boy over.
Milo was lying on a couch, playing with an iPad. He had light brown hair, wore black-rimmed glasses, and had a very serious expression.
“We don’t spend a lot of time on devices, but today Milo earned some extra screen time, didn’t you, sweetheart?” Sheila’s voice was warm and tender as she spoke both to and about her son. “Milo, I need you to put it down for a second and meet Diana. Do you remember when we talked about her? She’s going to be with us for a little bit and will watch you while Daddy and I work.”
I mentally cataloged the fact that Milo liked screen time. Definitely something I could use in the future. Determined to make this kid like me, I crouched down so that we were more eye level. “Hi, Milo! Nice to meet you.”
His expression stayed somber. “It’s nice to meet you, too. I have rickets. That means my bones are soft.” He made a show of attempting to raise his arm, and it seemed to take a good deal of effort.
I looked up at his mother, alarmed. She hadn’t mentioned that he had soft bones. That seemed like important information to have.
“No, he doesn’t have rickets. What he has is an overactive imagination. Which I’m sure you’ll be able to handle with your early childhood development degree.”
Yes, I knew just how to cure a child who pretended he was wasting away from a disease I’d never heard of.
“I also have consumption,” Milo told me, as if his mother hadn’t spoken.
“Milo, you don’t have tuberculosis or any other Victorian-era diseases,” his mother said, her voice a bit more stern this time. “Ten more minutes and then it will be bath time.”
“Did you want me to do that?” I offered, ready to hit the ground running.
“No, but could you come into the kitchen with me for a few minutes?”
“Sure.” I stood up and put my bag strap back over my shoulder. “I’ll see you later, Milo.”
He nodded sadly. “Yes, you will, if my brain hasn’t been destroyed by mad cow disease.”
Okay. I nodded, not sure if I should respond. I followed Mrs. Crawford into the kitchen, which was enormous. Shiny chrome appliances, sparkling stone countertops. I sat at an island that could have seated thirty people. She pushed a tiny pile of electronics and a black binder toward me.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“The binder has Milo’s schedule, his current curriculum, and all the notes I think you might need to know about him.”
I picked up the binder and it was ridiculously heavy. I didn’t know what to say.
“The most important thing you need to know is that when John and I are here, our workday stops between six o’clock and eight o’clock. That’s our family time, and it’s sacred. We eat dinner, spend time together, give Milo his bath, and get him into bed. Which means your workday is done at six if one of us is home. Obviously if we’re gone, we’ll need you to stay and be with Milo. Or if John and I go out on a date after Milo’s in bed. But we’ll always clear it with you first to make sure you’re available.”
I was always going to be available. I’d do whatever they wanted. Including washing those massive windows in their family room. “Of course.” I nodded. This was far more generous than I had expected.
“Like tomorrow night. There’s a charity dinner I have to attend. Would you be okay staying here with Milo?”
“Of course!”
She nodded. “Thanks. Usually we always try to eat here at home when we can, and you’re welcome to join us for dinner whenever you wish.”
During the time she’d just called sacred? I was pretty sure I’d just grab something out of that massive fridge or walk-in pantry and call it good. “Thanks.”
“And this is a laptop and a cell phone for you to use. Everything’s all set up and ready to go.”
I’d lied to her when she’d asked about me having a phone. When she’d offered to chat with me via text, I’d told her some kind of nonsense about wanting to live off the grid and not being tied to a device in order to explain why we had to arrange our phone interview from my landline. Now she was giving me a phone?
This was too much. “Oh, no, Mrs. Crawford, I couldn’t possibly—”
She held up one hand and I stopped speaking. “First, I’d love for you to call me Sheila. And second, when you told me that you didn’t have a smartphone or a computer with a fast CPU, we got these. It’s important for us to be able to contact you whenever we need to. I already put my and John’s numbers in there. I also want you to have your own computer to download lesson plans, find art projects, or just print out whatever you need. We’ve done the same thing for our other nannies.”
Still not quite able to process what was happening, I seized on the least important part of the sentence. “What happened to your previous nanny?”
“Gail? She was amazing, but she wanted to stay in California.”
“That must have been hard to let go of someone with so much experience.” Sheila looked a little confused. “Someone who . . . has the same set of skills as me?”
“Oh, no. Gail didn’t have any of that. She just played with and watched over Milo.”