Page 87 of Worst Nanny Ever
Sunday seems like a good day for pottery. We can do it at noon, maybe. I’ll text you the location tomorrow morning.
He seems like a man who probably has a color-coded calendar,so I’m guessing this on-the-fly planning will drive him crazy—and possibly be good for him.
He responds more quickly than expected:
One of the Wise Elders has a granddaughter who runs a clay studio. Perhaps we can go there.
Oh, Eugene, all grown up and making friends with adorable older ladies.
I’m glad you joined their club.
Did you have fun discussing the dispersal of your remains?
They had some informative opinions. Did you know that human ashes can be pressed into a record?
No, and I could have gone without knowing that.
I had coffee with them this morning, too, and they had some interesting ideas for tactics I can try at Big Catch.
Oh?
I’m going to attempt some of them today.
Dottie offered to help facilitate.
I was thinking we could plan a staff party for December. That’ll give us enough time to make a thorough plan. I already started the spreadsheet.
A holiday party! Holiday parties are epic. We can discuss the details over pottery.
Oh, by the way, could your tech genius son figure out who made this post?
I send him the link Alice gave me the other day, and he responds with admirable speed:
I love assignments.
Nothing about that surprises me.
I’ll ask him immediately, but he’s traveling for work, and it’s possible he won’t respond in a timely manner.
Thank you, Eugene.
I hope to have an answer for you soon.
“Hannah,” Ollie groans. “You’ve missed everything.”
I glance up, and sure enough, the end credits are streaming.
“No, I didn’t,” I lie. “They fought someone, and then at the end everyone’s friends again, and they ate a pizza. Speaking of which…do you guys want pizza later?”
“Yes,” Briar says. “I’ve been stress-eating. My mom and dad are scouting locations for his new business. I don’t even know what it’s going to be anymore.”
“So you’re going to become Mrs. Silver Starverysoon, “I say.
She sighs and sets the popcorn bowl down on the coffee table. “Seems likely, but he wasn’t kidding about Briar Boot Camp. I think he’s been watching too many game shows.”
“What’s he up to now?” I ask, drawn in.
“He challenged me to find out which of the staff members are talking about him. They’realltalking about him. Even around me. I’m not about to tell him that, of course, so I panicked and told himthe brewer praised his work ethic. He knew it was a lie, though. Then he told me I had to remove all of the chairs from the break room because people were spending too much time in there. He asked me to do it in the middle of the day, when everyone was watching, so now they’re probably talking about me.” She heaves a sigh. “And he’s driving the brewer crazy about the tropical IPA. Nothing satisfies him. And yesterday, he asked me to drive all around town to find twenty different tropical IPAs for him to taste test.”
