Page 33 of Marrying the Nanny

Trystan was cutting it tight, trying to bang off a coat of paint before the service, but the kitchen would never get done if they waited for a better time. Reid had enough labor in town to finish the two lodges, but they’d decided to save money by finishing the house themselves. Plus, he liked the excuse to stay busy.

Before they could sit down, Glenda arrived with food she’d made at Sophie’s last night. All the activity and chatter was too much.

“Let’s do this upstairs.” Reid led Emma up the stairs. He had climbed them a million times in a handful of days. “You know who thinks a four-story, split-level house is a good idea?”

“Stair manufacturers?”

“I was going to say a woman in her early twenties, which my mom was when they built this, but them, too.”

“I see the appeal on a property like this, though.” As they entered the primary bedroom, Emma moved to the sliding glass doors that led onto the balcony.

Beyond the window, fir branches swirled and danced against the backdrop of pewter water.

Reid left the door open to the hall and sat gingerly on the brocade bench in front of the built-in dressing table. He yawned as he pushed the lotions and jars of makeup brushes to the corner.

“Now you’ve got me doing that.” Emma covered her yawn. “Tiffany may not have come across as the warmest person, but we have to remember, she was tired. Babies take it out of you.”

“Yeah, who needs water boarding? I would have told that kid anything last night.” It wasn’t unlike a bad night with his mother, though, when she called repeatedly, needing to talk out her anxiety or anger over whatever had happened or what she feared might happen.

His mother had had her struggles, God knew she had, but she loved him. And he’d also had Glenda. But Storm? She had Emma and that was it. And Emma was only visiting. It was sobering.

“I keep thinking about what you said last night. That she lost both her parents.”

“I know.” She turned, staying by the sliding doors so her silhouette was backlit, highlighting how feminine she was. Delicate almost. “We should keep what’s said about Wilf and Tiffany in her baby book. It will be the only memory she has. She deserves to know how much they loved her.”

Reid faltered at the idea of Wilf Fraser loving anyone but Wilf, but only asked, “Do you know much about Tiffany’s life before she arrived here?”

“Pretty much what Harpreet said. She grew up in California, put herself through an interior decorator program—one of those study online at your own pace things. I don’t think it was very reputable. I’m not trying to knock her, but I knew more about what was involved in this renovation than she did. Basics like the door transitions being uneven if she chose different flooring for the kitchen and that the wall she wanted to remove probably has pipes and electrical inside it.”

“Had she done any other flips or renos?”

“Mostly staging and décor on offices for ‘dot-com nerds’ as she called them. She liked them, though. Said they inspired her to believe normal people could become successful by being creative.”

“Speaking as a nerd, we’re not normal, but I think we can work with that.” He rephrased Tiffany’s work history and wrote it down.

“You’re not a nerd.”

“I beg your pardon? I’m using a mechanical pencil right now.” He clicked it. “Do you want me to solve a quadratic equation? Because I will.”

“Do you like sports?” she asked with narrowed-eyed challenge. “I bet you’re good at them.”

“You got me. I can catch a ball.” He preferred to run on the treadmill. More efficient time-wise because he could read reports or watch a PowerPoint.

He almost told her he watched Star Trek, but this wasn’t a date.

She seemed to realize that as well. “We’re getting off topic.” She dipped her head, tucking her hair behind her ear. Pretty when she was shy.

“Right.” He ran his tongue over his teeth, looked at where he’d written inspired and creative. “Any idea how she wound up here?”

“I guess she was with a boyfriend? Tiffany lived with him in California for a while and sailed this far before she decided she’d had enough.” Emma pushed her hands into the pockets of her robe. “I admired that fearlessness in her. If she didn’t like something, she spoke up and took action.”

“You took action. You came here.”

“I ran away from home. It’s different.”

He wrote down fearless, thought about how fierce Emma was on Storm’s behalf.

“What were they like together?” he asked cautiously.

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