Page 2 of Sheltering Lily

I did worry about the whiteness of his house, though. Should he hire me, how would I supervise a two-year-old well enough to keep the pristine order all around me?

“Won’t you sit down?” He gestured to the white sofa, and I gingerly sat on the edge. “You mentioned on the phone that you had experience with kids.”

“That’s right.” Did I ever. “I’m the oldest of eight.”

His eyes grew wider, which was less of a reaction than I usually received. Large families generally surprised and fascinated people.

“That must have been interesting,” he said as he sat across from me. His long limbs stretched out before him, but he wasn’t relaxed.

“It was.” And limiting, given how much time I had to spend looking after everyone else. Pursuing my own interests had never really been an option—not in my father’s eyes, anyway. But this man surely had no interest in hearing about that. He just wanted to know that I was qualified. “I’ve helped care for babies and toddlers for many years,” I assured him. “I’ve also got a teaching degree and worked for the past five years as a math teacher.”

“You taught at the Hartford Academy.” My smile froze on my face. I’d been hoping he wouldn’t bring up the private school where I’d been employed until a few months before…but that had probably been too much to ask. It made sense that he’d want to know why I wasn’t there anymore.

“You left midyear,” he continued, just as I’d expected. He was watching me in a way that made his statement feel like a polite interrogation. “That’s unusual.”

Practically unheard of. Hartford was prestigious—it wasn’t the kind of job you just left on a whim. But the circumstances hadn’t allowed for me to stay. I’d promised myself I would be completely honest about my forced resignation. In my view, I’d done nothing wrong. Hopefully, Colin Vale would recognize that. If not…well, better to get it over with upfront, probably. That way, we wouldn’t waste too much of each other’s time.

“I suppose you’d like to know what happened,” I offered.

“Tell me.” His words were more a command than an invitation. He seemed accustomed to giving orders and having them followed. Military? Definitely, I concluded, based on his appearance and demeanor.

“Hartford awards a few scholarships a year to high-achieving students from low-income families,” I began. “It’s not easy for those kids. They wear secondhand uniforms and they have to miss out on a lot of things the other students get—like sports and other extracurriculars—because they can’t afford the additional fees.”

“So it’s obvious who they are,” he said, his keen eyes sharp on me.

“Very, which can open them up to ridicule from other children. One of my scholarship students, a very bright and promising girl, was bullied repeatedly by the son of a wealthy family. I knew he was picking on her verbally from the way she reacted to him, but he never said anything where a teacher could hear, and she would never agree to report him, saying she didn’t want to make trouble. I wanted to help, but my hands were tied. But then he turned to physical abuse. He shoved her so hard she fell and broke her glasses. He didn’t notice that I was close enough to see it all until I spoke up.”

The memory replayed in my mind in all-too-vivid color. The chaos of the playground during recess. The pained noise Jasmine made when she hit the ground, breaking her glasses, and scraping her knee. The tears in her eyes that she tried to hide. The cruel smirk on Sinclair’s face, without a hint of remorse for what he’d done.

“I told him off and dragged him to the headmaster. I expected him to be expelled, but his parents are important people and donors to the school’s annual fund, so he didn’t face any punishment at all. Instead, he managed to get me in trouble, complaining to his parents about the way I’d spoken to him. I was given the choice of either giving the family a formal apology or being fired. I picked door number three and chose to resign.”

There it was in a nutshell. I sat back, waiting for him to judge my actions.

“What happened to the girl?” he asked.

I liked that that was his first question. It said something about where his priorities were. My father had declared that I’d stuck my nose where it didn’t belong and blamed me for causing a ruckus, but this man saw the situation differently.

“A friend of mine teaches in the public school in the gifted program. After testing the girl, they enrolled her there.” It had been as close to a happy ending as I could have expected.

“It turned out well for your student,” he concluded, “but not for you?”

I shrugged. In the five years at Hartford, I’d had more than enough time to learn that teaching was not my passion. I’d stuck with it because it was what my family expected of me and because I liked the security of a good job with a high salary…but as I stood in that headmaster’s office with him sneering at me, threatening to terminate my job if I didn’t bow and scrape to Sinclair’s awful parents, I realized that I was finally getting the wake-up call I needed. Security and a paycheck weren’t reason enough to stay in a job that brought me no joy or satisfaction—and that was on the verge of costing me my self-respect. I walked out of that office with my head held high, feeling hopeful for the first time in years at what the future might hold.

“I’m seeing my resignation as an opportunity to explore other options,” I explained, “which is why I said I could be your nanny on a temporary basis. I haven’t fully decided what direction I want to take next, but I know I want the freedom to find it.”

“Find yourself?” He looked doubtful, and I imagined that he had always known exactly who he was and what he wanted, and had no patience for people who were still working on figuring themselves out. Whatever. His opinion wasn’t my concern.

“Yes,” I said, unwilling to explain myself any more than that.

He leaned back in his seat, regarding me. Had I blown the interview by being too honest? Maybe, but I refused to play it any other way.

“Well, Ms. Rhodes,” he said, “I like your character, and the references you gave me checked out. If you want the nanny position, it’s yours—assuming you and Sofia get along. I just ask that when you decide to leave, you give me enough notice to find a replacement.”

“I can assure you of that. And please call me Lily,” I said with a big, joyful smile. This was the perfect stopgap job in every respect, and it was a huge relief to know I hadn’t blown it. “When would you like me to meet Sofia, Mr. Vale?”

“Colin,” he repeated. “Would tomorrow be too soon? If the two of you click, you can move in the following day.”

“Sounds perfect,” I said, rising from the sofa.

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