Page 2 of The Perfect Nanny

“When did you first meet the Smith family?” Her sharp question slices through me, threatening to reveal whatever truth she’s seeking.

“Today.” It’s taking all my willpower to stay calm. I would much rather blurt out my answers, so they’d know how big of a mistake it was to have me, of all people, sitting here.

“When is the first time you spoke to the Smith family?” Officer Mead continues, her words dangling from every syllable.

With another staggering breath, I stare up toward the blinding hanging lamp and think back to the day I spoke to Lara Smith over the phone—our one and only call. “It was late last week. Sunday, I think. The records are on my phone.” They took my phone. They can see the interactions Lara and I had.

Officer Mead narrows her sharp tawny glare at me. It’s a look my father would have given me as a child when questioning my honesty. “How many times have you spoken with someone in the Smith family?”

I wish it was clear to me before tonight that the one time I had spoken to Lara was one time too many. I knew the risks involved when posting an ad looking for a job. It’s hard to trust that people are who they say they are, but I took a chance out of desperation. “Once last week when I returned Mrs. Smith’s phone call after she left me a voicemail inquiring about the ad I’d posted. I was seeking a nanny position for the summer.”

THREE

SUNDAY, JUNE 4TH 11:45 AM

Last week

The purr of a zipper punctuates the end of another school year. I never thought I’d still be in school at twenty-seven. Yet knowing I’m just a year away from earning my degree in psychology gives me the motivation to forge ahead. I’m ready for a career, and to start building a life for myself.

I watch my roommate, Willa, yank her suitcase off the beige slipcover that sloppily covers the sofa. In true Willa style, she straightens the throw pillow and leaves the gathered fabric in waves. “I can help you with you that,” I offer. “How many bags are you bringing home?”

“I’m fine. It’s just this one bag,” she says with a pout. “Hales, I hate leaving you here, in a town that’s days away from being one of the most crowded tourist spots in New England. Are you sure you don’t want to come home with me? We have a guest room. My parents won’t care.” She grips the handle of her suitcase with one hand, the other on her chest. I hate that she’s leaving, too. She’s always stayed throughout the summers, but her parents asked her to come home and spend some time withthem this time. They still pay her portion of the rent, so it’s hard for her to say no, which I understand. I’d go home too.

I would love to go with her, but she lives in a tiny town an hour outside of a city with one small grocery store and a two-pump gas station. The odds of finding a summer job there are even worse than if I were to stay here. Plus, we still have to pay the rent on this place. Even so, if I were to leave Newport, it would seem a bit odd staying with Willa when my parents live fifteen minutes away. Dad has reminded me several times of how much money I could save if I lived at home. He isn’t wrong, but to me, the university experience is about the social aspect and the sense of independence. Moving out was something I needed to do.

But Willa’s big, doll-like eyes could make the most decisive person break.

I shift my attention to the scattered magazines on the coffee table and straighten them one at a time. “I wish I could go with you, I do, but I can’t leave Newport right now. Plus, I’ll be working through the summer,” I remind her. I still need to pay my portion of the rent and I can’t ask Mom and Dad for help when this apartment was my plea for independence.

“Well yeah, but only if you find a new job. It’s slim pickings out there.” She’s right, and I’ve been losing sleep over this. I just didn’t want to lay that stress on her with her getting ready to go home for the summer. “How many applications have you sent out?”

Newport is the go-to for anyone who wants to get away for the summer and work a seasonal job by the beach. It doesn’t matter how early in the year we set out to find jobs. The chances of getting anything are slim because everyone seems to know someone here, even the tourists.

I had a job assisting at a children’s rehabilitation center, but the division I worked in merged with another outside ofNewport. The younger Newport staff members who hadn’t yet earned their medical licenses were let go. It all happened fast, and it was out of the blue, so I’ve been desperately trying to find a new job.

Willa did offer me her waitressing hours for the summer, but it’s important I find another position in my field since I’m working on a childhood psychology case study for my dissertation—a requirement to graduate. It must be complete by the end of the summer to stay on track.

I plop down onto the messy couch and look for a distraction, so I don’t have to notice the wrinkled fabric again. My phone blinks from the used and dented thrift-shop purchased coffee table Willa and I adopted last year, and I grab it to see if the notification is anything more than spam. It’s not.

“Aside from the ad I submitted to the community newsletter offering myself up as a nanny, I’ve sent out a lot of applications—I lost track.”

“You posted that ad? I thought you were still debating if that was a good idea?”

“I did a few days ago, and someone’s already called me to discuss a position. I’m talking with her at noon.”

“To work as a nanny?” Willa asks, choking on her breath. “I thought that was a last resort?” Her auburn curls bounce along with the emphasis of her exasperation.

I glance down at my watch, noting the date that’s creeping into mid-June. “I think this is my last resort. No one has responded to any of my applications.”

“But what about…”

“I know, I know,” I say with a sigh. “I’ll be careful. You don’t have to worry.”

Willa clenches her eyes and scrunches her nose. “Hales…they haven’t found this person yet. I thought that’s why you were leaning toward not posting the ad?”

“It was my only backup plan. The woman left me a voicemail asking to talk. That’s all I’m doing. I have a good head on my shoulders.” At least, I think I do. Maybe Willa thinks otherwise.

Willa drops the sliding handle of her suitcase and it slaps back into the hard-shell case. “I can’t leave you here like this.”

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