Page 142 of Worst Nanny Ever
We both watch with interest as Dottie does the song and dance of turning the cup over, rotating it, and then flipping it again. She does it with the finesse of a magician—and then gasps theatrically as she peers into it.
“I knew it,” she says.
“Knew what?” Lilah asks eagerly.
“Do you see those two shapes?” Dottie asks, pointing into the cup. Curiosity has me sliding out of my seat so I can check them out too. I have to swallow the laughter that bubbles up. The “shapes” look like two blotches, one larger and more stretched out than the other.
“This one”—Dottie points to the bigger blotch—“is a bird, my dear. It symbolizes freedom and a coming voyage. The smaller one, there, is a suitcase.” She shifts her finger to point at the dregs flecking the edges. “And those are waves. All of these shapes represent travel. I’m sensing there will be adventure in your future. Oh, how glorious. Of course, the cups only show me possibilities—one path you could choose among many.”
“A suitcase and waves?” Lilah asks, pointing to the smaller blotch. “Are you sure?”
Her energy has changed. She’s practically humming with excitement now.
“Oh, yes. It’s very clear to me,” Dottie says authoritatively, “and I’ve been doing this for years. Does this mean something to you, dear?”
“Yeah…yeah, it does.” She beams at Dottie, her smile annoyingly gorgeous. “You’re a genius. This is…this is going to work.”
I seriously hope not, because whatever her plan is has herpractically jumping up and down with glee. Then again, if this plan drives her away from us, I’ll begrudgingly let her have it, no matter how happy it makes her. It’s definitely better than if she hangs around creating problems for Travis and Ollie.
“Thank you,” she says to Dottie, grinning. Then she squeezes her hand and gets up from the table. Ignoring my existence (which is just fine by me), she tells Dottie, “Tell Travis I’ll be in touch. We have a lot to discuss, but I have a few calls to make, and I have some spa treatments lined up for the afternoon.”
No mention of Ollie. No suggestion about coming over later to try to make things right with him.
I tighten my jaw. My initial judgment of her character was spot on: Lilah is Cunt-acula, Queen of Cunts.
“Do you need somewhere to stay, dear?” Dottie asks.
“Are you offering? How quaint. But no, I’m staying at the Grove Park Inn.”
Of course, she is. The Grove Park Inn is a gorgeous, sprawling hotel that looks like a huge gingerbread house and has sick mountain views. It’s also where every rich person who comes here stays. How original. I hope the Pink Lady, the Grove Park’s famous ghost, haunts her ass.
She waves at Dottie and then walks off, like she didn’t just torpedo our day. Seconds later, the front door opens and closes, and she’s finally gone.
“What the fuck was that all about?” I ask as Dottie gets up.
I watch her grab two juice glasses from the cupboard, then start laughing when she pours a finger of bourbon into each of them.
“We’re drinking?”
“Not me, dear. I have to go to the tea shop for a few hours, but I suspect Travis will need it when he gets back.” She returns to the table and hands one of the glasses to me. “And to answeryour other question, I don’t know. But I felt certain she’d respond to those particular images.”
“Why, Dottie Hendrickson,” I say, grinning at her even though my heart is still thumping hard. “Did you just admit tea-leaf reading is a crock?”
“I’d never,” Dottie say. “But I may take a few liberties on occasion if I feel it’s important to get a certain message across.”
Well, I’ll be damned. I lift my glass to salute her before taking a sip.
We hear the front door open, and moments later, Travis hurries into the room, stopping beside me and glancing around wildly.
“Satan’s gone,” I say. “She told us she’ll be in touch later. She hasspa treatmentsthis afternoon.”
“This is for you, my dear,” Dottie says, pushing the bourbon toward him. It’s very unlike Travis to break the rules, even unwritten social rules likedon’t drink in the morning, but he downs it in a gulp and sinks into the chair next to me, running his hands through his freshly shorn hair. I’m not sure I’ll ever get tired of seeing that.
“What happened?” he asks, sounding dog-tired.
“Dottie pulled out all the stops and mind-melded her like a champ.”
“Now, I wasn’t trying to manipulate her,” Dottie says. “Manipulation is an ugly word. I wanted to help her see the greater good.”
