Page 2 of Undeniable You

My mom called just as I was closing the door and we had a brief chat. I was an only child and she’d raised me as a single mom, but I hadn’t told her about any of my monetary troubles. Nearly my whole life she’d worked so hard to make sure that I had everything I could need or want, and I couldn’t tell her because then she’d do something like take up another job and show up with a bunch of money or something.

That woman had already done enough for me, and going to grad school was my idea. I was old enough to manage my own shit. Instead I told her that everything was great, and I was looking forward to a summer of relaxing and that I’d definitely come and visit soon. She lived further up the coast of Maine, but with the traffic in the summer it took nearly two hours to get there. I didn’t visit as much as I should and that was something that gnawed at me during the nights when I’d had too much caffeine to finish my schoolwork and then tried to get to sleep. I hadn’t been a good enough daughter to her and, someday, I was going to fix that. Sure, I’d never make bank as a reading and literacy teacher, but just having a solid job with benefits in a field I loved would put her mind at ease. Someday, if I ever paid off my loans, I hoped that I could take her on trips and help her fix up the house.

For now, though, I gave her the glossy, prettied up version of my life so she didn’t worry and got off the call as quickly as I could.

Once that was done, I looked around my apartment and wanted to run away. It was a disaster, as usual.

I didn’t want to be a slob, but grad school had turned me into one. Sighing, I started with the kitchen, clearing one area at a time and starting a load of dishes.

My phone buzzed with a new message. I dried my hands and read it.

Hey Jo, I just talked to Larison and she’d love to meet with you about the potential nanny job. I sang your praises, of course, but she’d like to do a formal interview.

Oh. That was quick. Guess she was desperate. I typed out a quick response.

Go ahead and give her my info. I’m happy to do an interview.

Shit. I needed to make sure I had something clean that would even work for an interview. And find that copy of my resume I’d made last year. I knew it was somewhere on my computer. I had all of my schoolwork mostly organized, but everything else kind of fell by the wayside.

Great! I think you’d be a good fit. Her daughter Juniper is a sweetheart.

I had no doubt that she was. Plus, since she was five, I’d get some real-world experience working with a kid one-on-one. That made me almost as excited as the money. There probably wouldn’t be much, but I’d have to negotiate. I’d already done the math and knew how many hours I’d need to work and what number I’d need to make this work. It made me a little sick to my stomach to think about what I’d do if the numbers didn’t add up. I couldn’t go to my mom. That just wasn’t an option. I’d justhaveto make it work.

A few minutes later, a message came in from an unknown number.

Hello Jo, this is Larison Price. I got your number from Sophie. I hope it’s okay to contact you this way. I’d love to set up an interview with you to see if you’d be a good fit for me and my daughter. Are you free sometime this week?

It was nearly impossible to get a feel for tone from a message like that, but did it really matter? Sophie had already vouched for her and I trusted Sophie. No immediate red flags, which was a step in the right direction.

I sent a message back that I was pretty much free whenever she was. I assumed that her schedule between the bookstore and her child was more hectic than mine, so I’d work around hers.

She got back to me right away and suggested a few days and times which were all very soon. This was moving fast, but in a way that was better. Didn’t give me too much time to overthink everything and stress myself out too much.

We settled for an interview on Tuesday afternoon. I wrote back to Sophie and thanked her and then spent the next hour searching for interview tips and then tearing through my closet to find the right outfit and then deciding that I didn’t have anything clean that I liked and throwing in a load of laundry that would hopefully have something in it that would be acceptable.

Most of my clothes were casual, made for studying in comfort or going to brunch with my friends. I didn’t have much of an occasion to wear business casual attire. But would a nanny job really require me to dress like I was going to an office? I wasn’t going to be wearing pencil skirts and blazers to look after her kid. So maybe something less uptight was the way to go. I could look clean and cute and put together and that would hopefully work. I sent Reid a message asking for her advice, but she was extremely unhelpful. She usually wore her old shirts from Sapph or jeans or joggers or a vintage T-shirt. She had that “I just rolled out of bed, but I still look effortlessly cool” thing going on.

Sophie turned out to be much more helpful once I had some options and she jumped on to help me choose something.

I was nervous as hell, but if this worked out and the pay was good (of course I looked up what a competitive salary for a nanny would be so I had a ballpark figure to walk in with), this could be what I needed to get me through to the fall semester. I was on track to graduate next spring, but I’d worry about that later. Right now, I needed to bank as much cash as I could this summer and I didn’t have a lot of options.

Please let this work out. This had to work out.

Chapter Two

Larison

“Mama, why can’t I come to the shop with you? I can help!” Juniper said for what felt like the thousandth time.

“You aresucha big help. But you’ll get bored spending so many hours there. And it’s not safe right now with them doing the floors and working on the electricity.”

My daughter glared and pouted and crossed her arms. I was sure I’d given my own mothers a very similar look

“I know it’s not fair, but I promise you can come help me when we get the books in. You can help me put them on the shelves.”

I pulled up to the drive-thru window and reached for the bags with our orders.

“Where’s my juice?” Juni immediately asked.

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