Page 11 of Mr. Wolfe's Nanny

She introduces me to her son's housekeeper and cook, both Hispanic and both old enough to be my mother. I can tell I'm getting a thorough once-over and will be discussed later but they set me at ease with their polite greetings.

Mrs. Wolfe suggests we take tea in her son's in-home office. Julieta brings a tray while I study my surroundings. The desk is mahogany with a dark leather executive chair behind it. Isa mentioned the family owns Wolfe Media which even I've heard of who knows nothing much at all of the business world.

Mrs. Wolfe and I settle into two Chesterfield chairs beside the desk with a small table between for our tea tray. There's French doors leading to a patio outside, a large painting of Lake Michigan above the room's fireplace and two diplomas from Northwestern, one a Bachelor's Degree and one a MBA, hang on the wall.

On the desk is a framed photograph of a beautiful bride, a close-up. She has dark honey hair and warm brown eyes which sparkle with untold mischief.

"My late daughter-in-law," Mrs. Wolfe says when she notices me looking.

"I'm sorry. When did she..."

"Five years ago. A brain tumor. She initially chalked up the fainting and disorientation to her pregnancy until some of her bloodwork came back questionable. She chose to wait until after Jill's birth to start treatment. Kathy battled it with everything she had for several months but, in the end..."

The cancer won goes unsaid. I shiver and give Mrs. Wolfe my sympathies.

I see a framed photo of the children which looks recent on the other side of the desk. They're both dressed up, looking serious except there's mud on their fancy clothes and that same spark of mischief dances in the boy's eyes while the daughter smiles shyly. I can see their mother in both of them.

These poor kids growing up without their mom. I lost my parents when I was twenty. The scars from that night run so deep but to have passed through childhood without them there at all? Unthinkable.

"You've never been a nanny before, Ms. Batista?" Mrs. Wolfe says as we turn to business, holding a copy of my application.

"No. My sister's one but I've been teaching at a small, private school since graduating. Before it closed, that is. You can call me Quinn if you like, ma'am."

She smiles. "Seems like an experienced teacher might be in demand."

"I suppose so but I..." I fold my hands in my lap and decide it's best to be honest. "I'm not well-suited to the average classroom environment. I love kids. I love teaching. I'm nurturing by nature and, while, I can teach any grade from K through twelfth, my focus was in Elementary Education. I also have my Bachelors's in Biology."

"Impressive and all to your credit as a potential fit here," she assures me.

"Thank you, but, as much as I love watching young minds flourish, I don't do well with large groups or the hectic pace many schools move at. I prefer a quieter atmosphere. I break into a cold sweat at the thought of speaking to a large group."

Mrs. Wolfe's friendly gaze remains but her brows knit together. I can't blame her. "So, you're a teacher who's uncomfortable standing in front of the classroom all day?"

"Yes, I'm afraid so," I say, a mirthless laugh escaping. "I've suffered from PTSD and panic attacks the past several years. Nervousness, new situations, tension, confrontations make it worse. My symptoms are manageable most of the time but not always."

Saying it out loud, I realize how ridiculous I am wasting her time. Why did I think I had this? She wants someone to care for her grandchildren and I sound like someone who's barely holding it together.

She doesn't appear ready to dismiss me yet. She's clearly curious. "What happens when your symptoms aren't manageable, Quinn?"

I fight to maintain eye contact. "During an attack, I get frantic and have to focus on breathing. I tremble, I cry. I can grow hysterical when it's really bad but I'm better at controlling that now. Afterwards, I get depressed and withdrawn. I hide in my shell. I have to work to remember the things which make getting up in the morning worth it until I'm feeling like myself again."

"I see. And what things make it worth that for you?"

Not the response I expected. "My sister. Learning new things, sharing them. Watching cooking shows or reading a favorite book. Animal Planet." She laughs in a friendly way but her expression turns softer when I say, "My kids... I mean, the ones I'd see in my class every morning. They make it worth it."

"Sounds like you're going to miss teaching."

"I will but, if there's two little faces I could see every day, that I could form a bond with, I think-"

The French doors from the patio bang open unexpectedly before I can finish. I flinch but only for a moment. Two children barrel in, eyes alive with excitement.

"He came back!" the boy tells his grandmother triumphantly before he notices me.

The little girl at his side tucks herself behind her brother's larger frame. These are the kids. My heart does a funny little twist and feels warmer. I give them a gentle smile.

"Who came back, Ryder?"

"The skunk did, Grandma! He's right outside!"

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