Page 129 of The Nanny and the Heartthrob

Chapter15

HARPER

“Harper Barbara Presley, what did you do?” she lamented and paced in front of her bedroom door.

Her locked bedroom door.

Except she wasn’t the one inside her room.

Nope, she’d been relegated to the hallway.

She stopped pacing and perked up as a series of sounds came from the other side of the door.

Bump.

Thump.

Creak.

What was going on in there?

She knocked on the door. “Everything all right, Aria? Do you need help with your pajamas? Because that’s what you’re supposed to be doing in there. Putting on pajamas. It’s pj time,” she crooned, channeling a game show announcer.

“I don’t need any help,” the child replied, followed by a cascade of muffled scrapes.

“You can’t miss your jammies,” she continued. “I laid them on the bed—on my bed—well, your bed for now. They’re right there, waiting for you to put them on.”

“I put on different pajamas. I can do it by myself. I’m not a baby, Harper.”

“Yep, you’re a seven-year-old who can unlock the door, and now would be a great time to do just that. It’s the only way out,” she added, then gasped.

Unless…

She pressed her ear to the door. “You haven’t opened the window, have you, Aria?”

“No,” the child answered through a clunk.

Was the kid going through her closet?

“And remember,” she said, her voice doing that crazy opera thing. “I’ll move my stuff out tomorrow. You don’t need to help me out with that. You don’t need to bother yourself with any boxes or storage containers or notebooks or photographs. Nothing is exciting in my room. All boring stuff. Not to mention, it’s your first night here. You should get a good night’s sleep.”

“Harper?” Aria called.

“Yeah?” she answered, heart racing as she listened at the door, trying to figure out what Aria was up to.

“Is Uncle Landy back yet?”

She glanced down the stairs. “No, I don’t think so.”

Another creak and a crash emanated from the room.

“What was that?”

A pause.

“Nothing,” Aria answered like she was absolutely up to something.

There was no use in getting worked up. When she was that age, she’d spent hours in the attic, sifting through old letters, funny hats, photographs, and keepsakes from her grandparents’ travels.

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