Page 32 of Nine Week Nanny
NINE
Sloane
The phone buzzes against my palm. "Vanessa Williams" flashes on the screen. It's nearly six o’clock in the afternoon. These people work around the clock.
Vanessa called, and we spoke briefly yesterday after I left Pope’s. She said she would call back once she spoke with Pope, and when I didn’t hear anything all day today, I started to worry.
My heart stutters as I swipe to answer.
"Hello, this is Sloane."
"Ms. Brennan, I'm pleased to inform you that you've been selected for the nanny position with the Carrigan household. Because of this unique situation, things will move quickly from here. You indicated you can start immediately. That is the only caveat."
My stomach does a weird flip, half relief, half panic. "That's great news. Yes, I can start whenever you need me."
"Mr. Carrigan was particularly impressed with your behavioral therapy credentials. He believes you're uniquely qualified to assist with Lennon's situation."
He certainly seemed impressed with my skills that night at the hotel, but he didn't show an ounce of interest when I came for the meet-and-greet at his house.
I bite my lip, chastising myself for continuing to go there. That night is a distant memory. Pope Carrigan is no longer the man who'd pressed me against his hotel door and touched me in places no one else has ever gone.
"Fantastic. I'm glad my training can be put to good use during this bridge time."
"We need you to report tomorrow at 7 AM sharp. The early start is essential for establishing Lennon's morning routine. I'll meet you there to get started."
"Tomorrow?" I sit up straighter. “I didn’t realize you meant that soon."
"Is that a problem?" Something in her tone suggests problems aren't tolerated.
"No, not at all." I grab a pen and scribble the time down in the pad sitting on the counter. "Seven AM, got it."
"Excellent. Now, regarding Lennon, you should know that his mother recently passed away from cancer. He's understandably withdrawn. Your background makes you ideally suited to help him through this transition."
My chest tightens. That poor kid. The haunted look in his eyes makes more sense now.
"This will be a live-in position, as you know. You'll have private quarters with your own bathroom. We'll review your specific off-hours tomorrow morning, but generally, you'll have evenings free once Lennon is settled. Do you have any questions?"
About a thousand. "Not that I can think of at the moment, but I'll write down anything that occurs to me tonight to discuss when we meet."
My voice sounds steadier than I am. I have so many emotions swirling inside of me that I'm trying my best to stuff down.
"Go ahead and bring your things with you tomorrow so you can get settled when you have downtime."
"Is there anything specific I should bring? Or prepare?"
"Just personal essentials. Everything for Lennon is provided. And of course, while you're there working, all of your meals will be covered. You'll just have to bring any special items you want to have for yourself. And clothes, of course."
I want to ask more about the child, about Pope, about what exactly I'm walking into. But I need this job, and at the end of the day, the details don't matter.
The rent isn't going to pay itself. That's what matters.
"Thank you, Vanessa. I look forward to meeting you at seven."
After we hang up, I stare at my phone.
I grab the notepad from the counter and write "PACKING LIST" at the top. Below it, I add: "Professional clothes. Swimsuit. Therapy books."
Then, after a moment, I add one more: "Courage."
