Page 111 of Nanny for the Athletes

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Beth

Once we were inside, Kathy sat Claire down and gave her a standardized test to see how much progress she had made since being put into Logan’s custody. I wanted to watch and see how Claire did, but Kathy made her wait until I was out of the room.

I paced outside for the next thirty minutes.Thirty minutes. What kind of test were they giving her? An eight-year-old couldn’t focus that long on any single task, let alone a test to gauge her learning abilities!

Finally, Kathy and Claire came walking out of the house. “How did she do?” I immediately asked.

“The results of her test will be sent to Mr. Landry,” Kathy said curtly. “Along with the remainder of my report.”

“Ah, that’s good,” I said while following her to her car. “Very good.”

“I’m going back to scooping poop,” Claire announced. “If I miss anything, I don’t want to get fired!”

“Hah hah, she’s so funny. Such a precious age when they develop a sense of humor. Your report. Is it… positive? Or do we have room for improvement?”

Kathy tossed the clipboard onto the passenger seat of her car and turned to me. “That information is for Mr. Landry, the father. He’s welcome to share it with you if he wishes.” She hesitated. “But I will be honest, Ms. Foster: whateverthissituation is here at the kennel? I’m not sure it’s the best environment for Claire and her education.”

And with that, she got into her car and drove away.

I called Logan to let him know, but he didn’t answer, so I left him a voicemail. Then I texted him to tell him what had happened. Half an hour later, he sent back a single response:

A thumbs-up emoji.

If he’s not worried, then I probably shouldn’t be, I told myself. But a deep sense of dread had crept into me since the surprise visit by Kathy, a dread that refused to dim as the afternoon went on.

“It’s probably fine,” Christian said at dinner that night. “Claire’s a smart girl. Aren’t you, Claire?”

Claire was humming to herself while dipping her quesadilla in guacamole. “I guess,” she said around a mouthful of food. “But the test washard.”

“Really? You told me it was easy!” I replied.

“The first question was easy,” she explained. “The rest of it was hard.”

“What was the first question?” Braden asked.

“My name.Claire Kelenic. Easy.” She furrowed her brow. “The rest of the test was a bunch of numbers and shapes. I guessed on a lot of them.”

“Youguessed?”

“Why? What’s wrong?” Claire asked.

Braden squeezed my leg under the table. I made myself take a deep breath. “Nothing’s wrong. I’m just… I wish they had made me take the test instead.”

“You probably would have failed it,” Claire said bluntly. “I’ll do better next time.”

If there is a next time, I thought.

“I really fucked up,” I said later that night after Claire was put to bed. Christian, Braden, and I were sitting in the living room drinking wine. It was an expensive bottle, one that had been on my grandma’s wine rack since 2003. I figured tonight was a good night to open it up.

“You didn’t fuck up,” Christian reassured me.

“I don’t know. It sounds like she fucked up a little,” Braden said. “What? I’m just being honest.”

“You fucked up too,” I said, pointing with the wine bottle. “You’ve been cussing around Claire.”

He flinched. “No I haven’t.”

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