Page 14 of Knocking up his Nanny

CHAPTER 9

Studying my polka-dotted dress in the mirror, I chew my lip.

Today is the interview for my nanny position, and when Mrs. Merriweather texted me the address, my eyes nearly bugged out of my head. She then texted me not to drive over, because they would send a car to pick me up within half an hour.

It’s the Wintergreen Mansion. Not exactly on the other side of the tracks, as we don’t have train tracks in town—but definitely on the other side of the mountain. We live in the touristy area filled with small businesses, ski resorts, and souvenir shops.

The other side is, well, more exclusive and elite.

You can barely see the houses from the road, as they are all tucked away behind stately gates and lengthy, winding driveways for privacy.

I’ve nannied for a lot of wealthy families, butthathome is like the fantasy castleof this town. It’s the stuff of legends. I’ve never been inside, but I’ve heard rumors from people who have worked there as maids or repairmen. They come away pretty spellbound and starstruck, and there is talk of something like thirty cars in the garage, an indoor swimming pool and lavish home gym, outdoor tennis courts, stables and horses. Not to mention acres of rolling hills you can go horseback riding on, and forested trails for challenging mountain hikes.

Basically, the Buckingham Palace of this part of Vermont.

Who wouldn’t want to work there? I definitely do. But knowing how prestigious my employers are causes anxiety and dread to flood my body. What if I’m not good enough? WhywouldI be good enough? I’m sure there are many more qualified applicants with more experience. I didn’t study Early Childhood Education. I went to art school and majored in fashion design!

Do I even look the part? Will they dismiss me immediately because I don’t seem professional enough? Do they want a strict Julie Andrews from Mary Poppins, or a sweet and innocent Julie Andrews as Maria von Trapp? I am aware that when I do nannying jobs, I normally dress more for the children than the parents. Since this is a job interview, I’m not sure if I’ll even be meeting the children.

Dammit. I’m starting to sweat.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I whisper, pacing back and forth anxiously. I fan myself, trying to cool down and keep from overheating. It’s too much pressure. If I don’t get this job—well, there aren’t too many other options for me in Silver Mountain to make decent money. Of course, there’s always The North Pole, a few towns over, if I get really desperate.

I’m not a drag queen, but it worked for Lady Gaga in that one movie. Sometimes, it might be possible to pull off being a girl pretending to be a guy pretending to be a girl. It’s only fifty layers of makeup instead of thirty.

Okay, breathe, June. You’re going to get the job. You won’t have to become a reverse double drag queen. A faux, bio-queen. You can do this.

But thinking of The North Pole inspires me to reach for my phone and video call Rudy, my sister’s gay best friend. When he picks up, I can see that he is already in his dressing room, getting ready for a show. He has only one feathery, flamboyant false eyelash glued on, and the other is clutched between his fingers.

“What up, girl?” Rudy says. “Let me guess—some kind of critical fashion emergency.”

“That is correct,” I tell him. “I got an interview for a nanny gig at the Wintergreen Mansion, and…”

“What!” Rudy nearly shouts out, dramatically. “Oh, no, honey, this is serious. You need an intervention. I better call off work and come over there right now.”

“There’s no time,” I tell him, panicking at his reaction. Is it really that bad? “They are sending a car to pick me up in a few minutes.”

“Oh, good Lord, help poor clueless Juniper,” Rudy says, lifting his eyes to the sky. “She doesn’t mean to dress like a 1960s Stepford Wife, she really doesn’t.”

“Is that what I look like?” I say, looking down at my dress. “It’s supposed to be vintage and cute! Like a little bit retro, or swing.”

“It’sfine,Juney! I’m just messing with you. Come on, you studied fashion design, girl. You don’t need my help. You have your own iconic look, and it works for you. You just gotta find that confidence and work it. If you want to marry a Wintergreen and become a billionaire, then you are going to have toslay.”

“No, no, not thinking about marrying anyone,” I clarify. “This is all about the nanny job.”

He kisses his teeth in dismissal. “Yeah, girl, come on, like you don’t gotThe Sound of Musicplaying every time I come over. You wanna get yourself a little Captain Daddy von Sexy up in your business. Don’t act you don’t.”

“And what if the person hiring me is a woman? It could be Willow Wintergreen, who I met briefly the other day. Women can be busy professionals who need help with childcare, too.”

“Then don’t be boring and limit yourself to a heteronormative experience of the world. You can also seduce and marry the rich hot mama,” Rudy suggests.

“I will keep that in mind,” I tell him with a laugh. “But actually—I kind of started seeing someone.”

“Kind of? What’s he like?”

“He’s so sweet and gorgeous—but it’s not serious yet, so I better not jinx it.”

“Well, if he doesn’t want to get serious with you, he’s an idiot,” my friend says with a firm nod. “You’re the best thing since they started making French toast out of sliced bread.”

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