Page 14 of Mr. Wolfe's Nanny

“Is theheyou’re speaking of Mr. Wolfe? And does it matter if he thinks I’m pretty?” I ask with a friendly smile.

“You speak Spanish?” Maria asks, surprised but pleased.

“I do. My grandparents were originally from Cuba.”

Exclamations and discussions of origin ensue. Both ladies were born in the States but their parents were immigrants from Mexico. “Mr. Theo speaks Spanish,” Julieta tells me.

“He speaks it so-so,” Maria says, chuckling and waving her hand in a see-sawing motion.

As we start eating again, I look over at the fridge which hosts a variety of magnets and artwork created by the children. The pink and purple crayon drawing must be Jill’s but there’s an impressively detailed drawing of a wasp by Ryder. There’s also a photograph stuck on the door with a popsicle stick frame decorated with glitter. It’s a tall man and two kids by a large body of water from what I can tell at this distance.

“Mr. Theo and the children at their family lake house in July,” Maria says, smiling when she catches me staring."One of his brothers took the picture and printed it for Jill. She made the frame and hung it there.”

It’s odd to think I’ve met Mr. Wolfe’s children and mother, been over here a couple of times already and moved in today but we’ve yet to meet. Come to think of it, I’ve not noticed any pictures of him sitting out either though I’ve not explored the whole house, naturally.

Curious, I rise from the table to get a better look at the man who’ll be paying my salary and instantly freeze when impossibly dark blue eyes and a familiar crooked grin stare back at me.

“Oh fuck me,” I mutter.

He already did.

Boy, did he ever.

7-Theo

Ispent a solid month in New York dealing with the cluster fuck Tom’s firing after he was busted embezzling from us had caused. Hopefully, I untangled the web well enough that Dad won’t continue to hold my earlier endorsement of the man over my head for the rest of my days.

At last, I’m coming home today and it’s a day ahead of schedule thanks to a fortuitous meeting cancellation. My assistant, Claire, called the airport and the private jet was available, thank God.

She also wants to pin me down on another matter. “The Journalism Society is still waiting on your rsvp for their annual awards banquet.”

They’ve asked me to present an award, an honor I won’t dismiss even if I’d rather be home. Dad’s always doing this sort of thing. It’s my turn, I suppose. “I’ll be there.”

“Alright. They’d like a firm headcount so if you’re bringing someone… ” I sigh audibly. “It’ll be a long and lonely night on your own,” Claire hints, that mothering tone creeping into her voice.

It’s a long and lonely life without Kathy. I sigh again. A date is expected at these things. “Tell them I’ll have a plus-one with me.”

“Oh?” She’s delighted since she keeps giving me these little nudges to ‘get out there.’ I think her and Mom have started having lunch together to discuss it. Thirty-seven and on the verge of being fixed up by my mother and my assistant. Fantastic.

“It may be my mother I bring if I can’t find anyone else.”

“I’m sure you could find a date, Mr. Wolfe,” she says, laughing.

Yeah, but do I want to? Maybe if I could find Lois again. “I’ll figure something out. Thanks, Claire.”

Before touching down at O’Hare, I call Dan to pick me up and tell him not to tell anyone at home. I want to surprise the kids and they should be home from school soon.

I’ve been in daily contact of course, either through Mom or directly, but I’ve only seen them once in the past month when I flew home for a weekend two weeks ago. It was not enough for catching up, let alone quality family time. Ryder’s chin had been wobbling and Jill had cried when I’d left for the airport again that Sunday evening. I’d rather take a knife to the heart than hurt my kids.

As we roll past the front gate, a sense of ease fills me but an eagerness as well. Not only to see my kids but to finally meet Ms. Quinn, the new nanny, who I’ve heard so much of already. She’s off duty on weekends so I’d missed her last time. Mom said she’d gone to her sister’s and she’d not returned before my departure.

Anyway, leave it to Mom to pick a winner straight out of the gate. It sounds like Ms. Quinn’s a modern-day Mary Poppins who sets up science experiments in the green house, sings and plays games, hosts fancy tea parties in the living room, speaks Spanish fluently and scours the back yard for natural treasures with the kids every afternoon after school. Is she practically perfect in every way?

Entering the house, I’m struck by the initial silence but take a moment to breathe deep and appreciate being home. I saw my mother’s car in the driveway so she’s here somewhere along with the kids and staff. I make my way towards the kitchen, a usual hub of activity. I can smell dinner cooking, something spicy. My mouth waters, hoping Maria’s making enchiladas. I don’t see Maria to ask but I do see Ryder.

“Dad!”

Hugs and a sea of words as he shows me the sketch he’s working on. “A skunk?”

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