Page 18 of Falling for the Nanny

I couldn’t pretend like I hadn’t been doing just that, because I knew I had. It was the best way I could think of to keep her at arms’ length. I rubbed my hands together, aggravated. It was one of the very few situations in life that I’d come up against that I didn’t know what to do with. “This isn’t working,” I said again finally.

Cat crossed her arms over her chest, inadvertently creating cleavage in the modest V of her T-shirt. “If you’re trying to make me quit, it won’t work. You’ll have to fire me so I can at least collect unemployment while I figure out what to do next.”

“Well I’m not going to fire you because Lily would kill me,” I countered, “so you’re going to have to quit.”

She shook her head stubbornly. “Not happening.”

“Then I think we’re going to have to figure out how to be in the same room, Catherine. Start with dinner.”

I went inside before she had a chance to argue. I had no idea if she was actually going to join us. When she appeared at the top of the basement stairs, her hair in its usual ponytail, her chin set, I had to hide my grin. She’d take it as triumph–an indication I thought I could order her around and she’d put up with it.

“Cat!” Lily exclaimed. “You’re going to eat with us?”

“I am, tonight.” She stressed the word tonight and I pointedly ignored it.

We sat down to dinner, she and I across from each other, Lily in between us. Cat did her best to speak exclusively to and through my daughter, but she couldn’t ignore me when I asked her direct questions, and I made sure to ask her a lot of them.

At one point, she laughed to cover her irritation and said, “I feel like I’m interviewing all over again.”

After dinner, Lily went upstairs to take her shower and get ready for bed, and Cat said, “I’ll do the dishes.”

She began gathering them, but I beat her to mine. “I’ll help you.”

Visibly frustrated, she carried hers and Lily’s to the sink. “Thanks,” she muttered when I set mine down on the counter beside the others. “I’ve got it from here.”

Perversely, I stayed right where I was. “I’ll wash and you dry.”

Cat cast a glance toward the entrance to the kitchen to make sure Lily wasn’t in earshot, and then she took off the gloves. Her chin came up and she said sharply, “I don’t want your help.”

“Then quit.”

“I’m not going to quit.” For the first time in days, she was looking right at me, and there was a storm gathering in those hazel eyes.

“Then dry.” I crowded her over so that she had to step away from the sink or risk brushing against me again.

We washed and dried the dishes in a silence so thick with tension it felt physical. The only sound was the rush of water and the clink of porcelain and metal. She made sure to never let our fingers brush as I handed her dish after dish. By the end of it, she looked mutinous, and I wanted to laugh.

“Tell Lily I said good night,” she said frostily, drying off her hands and replacing the dishcloth.

“What? No last words for me?” I couldn’t help taunting her. There was something so satisfying about pissing her off, pushing her to the brink of quitting. I’d be disappointed if she did, but it would be better for all of us.

“No,” Cat said flatly, and she disappeared down the basement stairs.

I walked over to the sliding glass door that looked out over the pool deck and watched as she crossed out from beneath the deck and around the pool. The dancing blue light made it look like she was swimming through the darkness. There were deep shadows around the door to the pool house, and I made a mental note to put in a light.

As I was thinking that, she turned. Maybe she thought I couldn’t see her in that well of darkness, but I could. And I knew she could see me, because I hadn’t bothered to turn off the kitchen light.

We stared at each other, something unspoken passing between us.

CHAPTER 11

CAT

By the end of the second week, I was worn out for Lily. I couldn’t understand how she kept up this relentless pace. It was the same schedule Monday through Thursday–school, some sort of activity, snack, homework, dinner, and then it was practically time for bed. Friday was different–she didn’t have an activity after school, and David took her to dinner because I had the night off. Then on Saturday, she had swim class in the morning, and Mandarin lessons in the afternoon. After Mandarin, I was off the clock until Monday morning, but I knew she and David had private tennis lessons at their country club on Sundays.

It was a grueling schedule for anyone, much less a seven-year-old.

While I drove her home, I listened to her practicing, staring down at her tablet instead of daydreaming out the window like I would have done as a kid. When she caught me sneaking glances at her in the rearview mirror, she gave me the sweetest smile, but I thought I saw pale blue shadows underneath her big green eyes.

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