Page 17 of Count My Lies

“It is,” she says. “Do you know how old I am?”

I shake my head. “Can I guess?”

“Okay,” Harper agrees. She looks delighted by my request.

“Are you twenty-five?” I ask. When she shakes her head, giggling, I pretend to be shocked. “What? Older? Twenty-eight? Thirty?!”

She giggles. “No! I’m almost five. My birthday is in August. August twenty-second. I’m going to have chocolate cupcakes with pink sprinkles. And I asked for a kitten, but Mom said no.” Then, to Violet, “Can I go play over there?” She points to a sand pit in the corner of the park. Violet nods, and Harper bounds off, limbs loose like a puppy. She beelines for an abandoned plastic bucket, faded from the sun, and begins to scoop sand into it.

“Want to sit?” Violet motions to a park bench a few feet away.

I take a seat beside her. She smells like the bloom of gardenias onher kitchen counter. “Oh!” she says, remembering. “Here.” She reaches into her bag and pulls out my red flannel shirt. “Before I forget.”

“Thanks,” I say breezily. I take it from her and put it into my purse. I’m pleased with myself, by how well the plan worked. “Sorry about that.”

“It’s no problem,” she says. Then she leans toward me. “I love your necklace,” she says, squinting to get a better look. I put a hand to my neck. The pearl is cool and smooth. “Where’d you get it?”

“It was my grandmother’s,” I say, repeating the lie I told Natasha.

She looks disappointed. “Shoot. I was hoping you’d tell me where I could buy it. I’ve been looking for one just like it.”

I want to kick myself. Now I wish I had told the truth. I like the idea of us wearing the same necklace. “Well, she bought it not long before she passed, actually. I can find out where, if you want?” I offer. “I think it’s probably somewhere local. My mom will know.”

Violet brightens. “I’d love that, thanks.” She smiles and looks back toward Harper. She’s now forming sand patties with another little girl, shaping them carefully with her small hands then pretending to eat them in one bite.

“Are you home with her full-time?” I ask.

Violet nods. “I left my job when we moved out of San Francisco. I hired some help—Nina—after we got here, so I could start studying for the New York bar, but that didn’t work out, so…” She trails off, shrugging. “We’ll see. It’s funny, though: this job, the stay-at-home-mom gig, is a hundred times harder than my job as an attorney. But it’s more fun.” She smiles. “I never got to spend Wednesday afternoons at the park before I was a mom.”

“Do you want more kids?” I ask. Immediately, I wish I could takeit back. It’s too personal a question, too premature, given that we just met. I hope she doesn’t take offense.

The smile on Violet’s face doesn’t falter, but it changes. Her eyes flick to her lap, then back up at me. “I did. I thought we’d have a big family. At least three kids. But—” She stops abruptly, clears her throat. “Harper has some medical issues. It’s been hard for us. All of the doctor visits, appointments with specialists.”

A lump forms in my throat. “What’s… what’s wrong with her?” I ask.

“It’s her heart.” Violet looks down at her hands again. She fiddles with her diamond. “It’s weak. She had an infection as a baby, and it damaged the tissue. Blood doesn’t always pump correctly. She has these fainting spells. Not often—the last one was over a year ago—and usually they’re just a few seconds, but once she needed a defibrillator.”

We both look over at Harper, who is still playing happily in the sand. My heart aches for her. And for Violet. And Jay.

“It’s probably why Jay was so flustered about the bee sting the other day. We’re always holding our breath, hoping she’s okay. Jay won’t even talk about it. Pretends like everything is fine. I don’t think he wants to admit that we could lose her, you know?” Then Violet smiles. “But she’s tough. We don’t treat her any differently—we don’t want her to feel like she can’t do anything any other kid can. But it’s one of the reasons I’m having such a hard time finding another nanny. I really want someone with a medical background, you know, just in case.”

Then Violet bites down on her lip, looks at me sheepishly. “Which brings me to the real reason I wanted to meet up today. Aside from returning your jacket, of course.”

I stare back at her, waiting for her to explain, hoping, hoping—

“I know you offered to babysit every once in a while, but I couldn’t help but think, I don’t know, would you be interested in more than that? Maybe nannying a few shifts a week? Just until you go back to nursing school?”

“You want me to be your nanny?” I repeat.

Violet nods. “It would just be a few hours a week. I was thinking Tuesday and Thursday afternoons when Harper gets out of school, a Friday here and there? Then I could dedicate a few hours a week to studying again. Maybe take the bar next February. Please tell me if I’m overstepping, but I had to ask. Like I said, we have a hard time trusting people with Harper, and with your background, it just seems so…right.”

My heart feels like it’s beating in triple time. It’s exactly what I wanted, what I hoped for when I made the offer, but—and this is a big “but”—that was before I knew Harper was sick. She needs a real nurse, not a make-believe nursing student. I should say no. I should tell Violet the truth. I know I should. I want to do the right thing, but I also want her to like me. I want so badly for her to like me. And when you want someone to like you, you tell them what they want to hear.

“I—” I start, unsure how to finish. “I’m—”

“I’d pay you, of course,” Violet says. “Thirty-five an hour? Is that fair?”

Thirty-five an hour is more than I make at the spa. More than I made as a teacher. A couple of nannying shifts a week would be another thousand dollars a month, at least. And if—when—I do a good job, maybe those few shifts will turn into more. Maybe a live-in position, like I hoped. It would mean I could move out. I’m happy to take care of my mom, I always have been, but in the last few years, the walls have been closing in, the apartment becoming smaller, making my lifesmaller, me smaller. I want to start living for myself, for once, finally stand on my own two feet. This offer could make that happen.

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