Page 26 of At First Flight
“Hi, Evelyn. It’s lovely to meet you.” I’m fascinated as I watch Lila interact with the kids. She speaks softly but with a hint of enthusiasm. As if meeting these kids is the highlight of her day. “Who is that?” she asks, pointing toward the stuffed lamb that had seen better days.
Instead of replying, Evelyn shoves her thumb in her mouth, a habit I wasn’t aware of until just now.
Crouching down, Evelyn doesn’t let me get too far and nestles against my arm as I point at her lamb.
“This is Lamby, right?” She nods once but holds the stuffed toy out for Lila to inspect.
“Oh, she’s very pretty. I love her little pink bow. Is that a color you like?”
Just above a whisper, Evelyn says, “Pink is my favorite.”
Lila’s eyes sparkle as if watching a fireworks display. “It’s one of mine, too!”
Standing, Lila suggests that we show the kids their bedroom and get them some lunch as Oliver rambles on about being hungry.
The kids seem far less interested in their rooms than I expected. Each of them sets their toy on their respective beds and makes their way back toward the kitchen, Evelyn gripping my hand the entire time.
By the time we get to the kitchen, Lila has already made headway with some peanut butter sandwiches, rolled up to looklike pinwheels, and sliced up peppers her mom had tossed in my cart.
I’m skeptical as she plates the meal in front of the kids at the small breakfast table in the kitchen, but they immediately dive in. Whether it be from exhaustion or pure hunger, they don’t seem to mind the relatively healthy meal.
My smile catches Lila’s attention as she cleans up the mess on the counter, and for a moment, I feel like everything will be alright. Especially if I can convince Lila to stay, because for every second she treats the kids like royalty, I can see that she’s ready to ride off into the sunset.
Chapter Six – Lila
The house is stunning. A place I’d seen a few times when playing in the neighborhood with friends but never seen inside.
Of course, its beauty doesn’t compare to the man sitting in the oversized playroom with the two kids building a tower out of Legos. While the kids ate earlier, I skimmed through the document Mom sent over the night before, listing the details of the nanny service and the terms. It already lined out a day off of my choosing every week and a salary that was frankly ridiculously high.
When I first met Dean on the plane, I hadn’t given a single thought to whether he was rich or broke. He was just… kind. Someone who stepped in when I was falling apart, offering comfort without strings, a warm jacket, and a steady hand when I couldn’t find my own footing.
But standing here now, in front of this sprawling estate that looks like it was ripped from a magazine spread, reality hits me square in the chest.
Dean Harrington isn’t just a good guy with a charming smirk. He’s someone with power. Money. Influence. The kind of man whose name probably carries weight in places I’ve never even stepped foot in.
And suddenly, all my carefully patched-up composure feels flimsy again.
I wrap my arms tighter around myself, unsure if the sudden chill is from the wind or the storm brewing inside me.
I’m supposed to be here to consider a job as a nanny. Live-in, no less.
But can I really work for the man who once saw me at my weakest, who offered me comfort on what was arguably the worst day of my life? Who looked at me like I was more than just a mess in a wedding dress?
The thought terrifies me.
Because I’m not sure if I’m more afraid of saying yes… or walking away.
Last night, I had been tinkering around in my notebooks and had a breakthrough regarding a chemical mixture that could combat the body’s response to an allergic reaction. Almost like an epinephrine pen, but before the reaction begins. It made that urgency of finding a new research team reach a new height.
“Dean, can I speak with you for a moment?” The kids barely bat an eye in our direction as he joins me on the bench under the window, looking out to the waterway behind the house.
Of course, Dean leaves very little space between us as he sits, my body straightening as his leg brushes against mine. My reaction to him is another reason I should turn down the job and find a replacement. My sister, Hadley, is just as suited for the job as I am.
“Dean, I want to talk about the job. I’m not sure—” I begin, but he cuts me off.
“You know, when I ran into your mom at the grocery store this morning, I never would have imagined that you’d be the one showing up on my doorstep.”
“I know this must be a shock to you.”
