Page 11 of Hearts Aweigh
“Governess?” Sarcasm tinged her response. “Is her name Jane Eyre?”
The one he remembered as Althea butted in. “Most people just say nanny.”
His mother placed a hand on the woman’s arm. “You must forgive him. My son always uses the most haughty, indistinguishable terms possible. He’s like his father in that way.”
Which was worse? Being castigated for his speech or compared to his father?
Spencer suppressed the ill-mannered words rising in his throat. In the old days, he’d have answered with a scathing reply, but his recent conversion had changed things. The Bible he found comfort in every morning encouraged him to hold his tongue.
Or try to.
“Thenannycame with sterling references. Ms. Blanchet speaks Spanish, French, and Chinese, and she has multiple degrees in child psychology and education.”
Althea sniffed. “Can she sing a good lullaby?”
Lullaby? Did little girls need those? It had never occurred to him. And from the look on this woman’s face, she knew it. Was his incompetence as a father that obvious?
Spencer straightened his tie. “Singing ability was not a requirement.”
A Monarch employee wearing a green sequined jacket and matching pants crossed the stage. The audience clapped, and the short, older man with silvery red hair tweaked his face mic.
“I wish you were that happy to see me.” An Irish accent tinged the man’s words. “But I suspect you’re more excited that I’ll be calling out the numbers. Am I right?”
People hooted and whistled.
“Look, Spencer”—the small, bossy woman by his mother smirked—“you’re not the only one in a suit.”
Althea scooted over and patted the couch beside her. “Sit down, baby. We bought you a six-pack.”
“You … you purchased a—”
“Six-pack.” She waved a long piece of paper with bingo squares on it. “That’s what they call these game boards that have six cards on them. More chances to win.”
“Thank you, but I’d rather not play.”
“Don’t be so stinkin’ stuffy.” She grabbed his sleeve and tugged him down. Passing a thick marker to him, she pointed at the paper. “Use this dabber to highlight whatever number Seamus calls. That’s the man onstage. He has a crush on our Gerry.”
Spencer grasped the unwieldy pen and looked around the table in confusion.
On the opposite side of the couch, the skinny one, who must be Gerry, raised her eyes from the book she was reading. “There’s no need to tell tales to strangers.”
“It’s no tale. Seamus is crazy about you, and you know it. Besides, Spencer’s no stranger.” Althea rubbed his shoulder. “He’s family.”
A giant bingo card projected on the screen behind the aforementioned Seamus. He walked to a podium where a computer sat and pressed a button. The round ball on the right of the screen flickered until it stopped on a number.
“B-14,” he shouted.
“Woo-hoo!” Althea stamped her paper. “It’s gonna be a good night. I can feel it.”
Daisy observed Spencer. “You were separated for quite a while. When did the divorce become final?”
He sat with his spine rigid, not touching the back of the couch. “Two months ago.”
Murmurs came from all four women.
“N-36.” The caller tap-danced across the stage for no apparent reason.
“Has Madeleine been with you since then?” Daisy asked.
