Page 15 of Mr. Wolfe's Nanny

“Yeah, he’s our pet skunk.”

“Our pet skunk?”

“Ms. Quinn helped us uncover the den the gardener accidently filled in so he’s got his home back. We’ve watched him through the windows a few times when it’s getting dark. Jill calls him Lord Sebastian which is so lame but you know Jill.” He rolls his eyes in a very put-upon manner.

I stifle a chuckle and diplomatically declare the name fitting before praising my son’s artwork. I’ll deal with the whole ‘pet skunk’ question later. I’m just glad to see Ryder looking so happy. “So, you’ve not been putting invertebrates in Ms. Quinn’s handbag, I take it?”

He’s busy adding some extra details to his sketch (and why have I not noticed sooner how talented he is with his drawings?) and snorts at my question. “She’d probably find a jar full of dirt for them to live in if I did.” He looks up, giving me a sheepish expression. “I’m sorry about what I did to some of the others, Dad. Not Mrs. Hicks but some of them weren’t all bad. But I’m glad we’ve got Ms. Quinn now.”

My jaw drops. I’m completely gobsmacked. He’s a good kid at heart but he’s never before expressed remorse over running off the other nannies, too certain he was justified at the time. Is this a sign of maturity or has Ms. Quinn had a word with him over past actions? Maybe she really is Mary Poppins.

I ruffle his hair and pull him into another hug. “Is Grandma here? And where’s your sister?”

“I think Grandma had a phone call and went to your office. Jill’s upstairs. Can we have a tire swing out back?”

A tire swing? What prompted that? “Uh… we’ll see.” Before I walk away, I touch the paper he’s working on. “I’d love for you to draw me something when you have time. I’d like to put it in my office downtown.”

His smile is so bright you could power a small town with it. “You can have this one of Sebastian if you want.”

I thank him, saying it would be perfect, and head upstairs.

I walk past the children’s bedrooms but no sign of Jill. I peek in mine. It appears someone’s already carried my luggage up from the car but there’s no other signs of life. Christ but I’m looking forward to stretching out in bed tonight. Even the best suites can’t compare to one’s own bed.

If only it weren’t so lonely,I think, glancing at Kathy’s picture. She’s holding a wiggly Ryder in her lap in this one and she was pregnant with Jill.

I stare at those familiar brown eyes and wonder did she know when this was taken? Was she hiding it from me, lying to me even then? And, was I too busy to notice?

The old hurt mixes with my melancholy and I have to shove it away. I’m back home with the kids. Back home and still alone.

It’s been six weeks since my night with Lois. I’d been strangely reluctant to find other female company in New York, the city that never sleeps. I’m not sure why I’m reluctant. It’s not like I owe a stranger chastity. I’ll likely never see her again.

A thump from the third floor distracts me from that line of thought. The nanny’s quarters are above mine. Stepping back into the hallway, I head up the back staircase which leads directly to her door and hear… singing.

“Five Little Ducks went out one day,

over the hill and far away.

Mother Duck said, ‘Quack, Quack, Quack, Quack,’

But only four little ducks came back.”

Jill’s singing but a woman’s voice accompanies her, a husky contralto which stirs me.

The door is open but I feel self-conscious as I creep quietly into Ms. Quinn’s quarters. The sounds are coming from the bathroom. Has she invited Jill or did my daughter barge in? The past nannies had been very protective of their private space, understandably so, but perhaps Ms. Quinn might not mind Jill’s company.

Not wishing to interrupt, I listen to them singing ‘Five Little Ducks’ together as water gently splashes and peek around the door. Jill is perched up on the edge of the large garden tub with her shoes off and her hair in pigtails while holding three rubber ducks, her elfin features alight with joy.

Meanwhile, Ms. Quinn is kneeling on a folded towel, bent over the tub and…

Fuck me.

Look, I don’t mean to be crass but Ms. Quinn’s wearing yoga pants and has a very fine ass.

Even only seeing her from behind, my Mary Poppins image of Ms. Quinn flies out the window. She appears younger than I’d expected as she casually runs a wet hand through the curtain of thick, black hair hanging down her back. Holy shit. Flared hips, that long black hair, slim waist, on her knees and that ass. She’s sex on legs.

“Daddy!” Jill screeches, spotting me.

I bite the inside of my cheek as punishment for lusting after the nanny as I step in the doorway and lift my little girl up for a hug. “Hello, baby.”

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