by Alexa Hart
The room is my 5-year old dream. It sits in the tower that is hidden at the back of the mansion, and is rounded in shape with thick-molded windows reaching from the ceiling to the floor on either side. There is a spiral staircase off to the corner that leads to a loft – where, I assume, Ella’s bed must be. The entire room is lit up in shades of white, silver, and pink, adorned with tulle and flowers. It’s utterly feminine, and yet lacks the antiquated feel that usually coincides with that trait. To be fair – Ella really is something of American royalty; anyone with this kind of money is. I quietly wave at the woman who’s job I’m taking from across the room as she tries to teach a very distracted Ella the alphabet.
“Are you my new nanny?” Abandoning her lesson, Ella pivots in her tiny ornate wood desk chair, gripping the top of its back with all the strength in her tiny hands.
I smile widely at her, closing the gap between us in a few short strides, bending to her level.
“I am! My name is Alex, what’s your name?” Ella cocks her head at me, employing the same inquisitive look her father held just a few minutes ago. Hers, though, is considerably less intimidating.
“I’m Ella. I’m five and one-half and I don’t like broccoli, so you can’t feed me it.” I giggle in unison with the other teacher, enchanted already by her deep-colored eyes and outspoken nature.
Standing, I turn to the teacher and introduce myself.
“Don’t worry – I’m just a temp.” She assures me without prompting.
“I’m sorry?” I furrow my brow at her, though, she is right. I was worried.
“I don’t actually work here, just filling the gap until you arrived.”
I sigh a breath of relief, and thank her for the clarification. We speak for a few more minutes, peppering Ella with the alphabet song before Winnie appears in the doorway.
For the split second before I turn to her, in my peripherals, I catch her sporting a hopeful smile.
“Alex, if you’ll come with me please, I’ll show you to your suite.” Winnie motions towards the door, already turning on her heel to walk away as her sentence tappers off. I pass a small wave to Ella before turning to follow her, descending the narrow staircase towards my new home.
Chapter 3
Alex
When they said “suite” I’d imagined a regular bedroom, maybe with an attached bathroom. Something small but put together, the kind of thing you’d find in a mid-priced hotel.
I was very much so mistaken.
Winnie left me several minutes ago, after her brief explanation of the inner workings of the house, and instructions to come to her with any needs. Truth be told, she probably just got sick of my gawking.
The suite is magnificent. The far wall is filled with high arched white-trim windows, giving a classy feel to the modern décor, and the floors are polished dark wood, so uniform and pristine I’m almost not sure it’s real wood. Everything in the room is doused in shades of pearl; iridescent pinks and blues, deeply colored like I’ve just plucked each hue fresh from the ocean. The ensuite bathroom is no different, a large standing tub in the center of the room, a walk-in shower behind it. I think my whole apartment could fit into this bathroom. After several long minutes of admiration, I sigh, finally standing from the plush down comforter of my new king-sized bed.
Emptying my purse of the things I probably won’t need on the commute to gather my belongings, I set off to find Winnie, to set up the movers.
“You cannot move to Bedford Corners. I won’t allow it.” Bonnie’s voice is shrill and insistent, her grip tightening on my outstretched arm. I’d stopped by to return her car, and cry a little. I can’t imagine not living within five minutes of my best friend anymore.
“I know, Bon.” A rogue tear escapes down my cheek as I struggle to say goodbye. “Mr. Simmons said I’ll have most weekends off… We’ll plan visits. I’ll come back, and I’m sure you can come there! The estate has an indoor pool; I can’t imagine he uses it often.”
I plaster a fake smile on my lips that I know she will see through. Close friends always know when you’re smiling for real, and when you’re pretending.
Bonnie pulls me into a crushing hug, and I am sure my mascara-tainted tears are staining her hair. I return the pressure of the embrace, promising to visit soon. With that, I am off. I didn’t bother to say bye to Luke; Bonnie will give him the message, and anyway they both know I hate goodbyes. Something about them just feels so final.
After seeing my new suite at the Simmons Estate, my little apartment feels smaller than before, if that's even possible.
“Excuse me ma’am.” One of the hired movers brushes past me with the last of my boxes, carrying it down to the moving truck Winnie graciously arranged for me. Truth be told, the movers weren’t really necessary. All of my belongings probably would have fit in Bonnie’s car comfortably. When I started fresh in the city, I didn’t have anything. Slowly I’ve accumulated the essentials, but it still isn’t much.
I drop my keys on the counter, along with a check from Mr. Simmons for the remainder of my lease term. It isn’t much, since I was going month-to-month, but it was still generous of him to help me break my lease. I couldn’t wrestle Bonnie’s copied key from her, something about sentimental value, but I don’t think my shady slumlord will even notice.
With one last glance around my shabby home, I spin on my worn heels, leaving my old-new life behind, for an even newer one.
Chapter 4
Fitz
Three Days Ago
“I haven’t known her that long, but Bonnie adores her, and she has a degree in early childhood education.” Mike explains. I nod into the receiver as though he can hear my nonverbal acknowledgment, clicking to open the resumé that just hit my inbox. Alex Bennet.
“Wow, 4.0.” I mutter, scrolling down the overly filled page.
“Yeah, she’s a bit of an over achiever – at least that's what I hear from Luke.” He laughs.
“Luke?” A live-in nanny with a boyfriend sounds like a complication… Do I want a strange man hanging out around Ella? No, definitely not.
“Bon’s brother, they all went to NYU together.” Mike clarifies, putting me at ease.
“Ah, okay. This looks great, thanks man.” Forwarding the resumé to John, I lean back into the thick leather cushions of my chair, a calloused hand swiping across my face, as though to wipe away the tension.
“How are you doing?” His voice raises an octave with the question, and I can hear the silent end of his sentence, since she died. I don't bother to be annoyed. It comes with the widower territory, I guess. The silent questions a pitch too high, the titled heads, eyes filled with pity. At first it would throw me into a silent rage, but I’ve learned to appreciate my friends’ concern. Rarely do I acknowledge it, but Mike is different. I guess that’s what happens, though, when you kill people together.
“I don’t know.” I answer honestly, “I just need some stability for Ella, you know?” Of course he doesn’t. You can never know until you do, and I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.
“You know I’m here, always. I’d love to see the little munchkin. Let’s plan a dinner soon?” I smile, nodding.
“That sounds good, pretty soon she’ll need someone to teach her how to shoot.” We laugh in unison; Mike was the best sniper in our unit. In any unit, really. We make tentative plans to get back to each other with a good date, before trading goodbyes. Perfect timing, too, because as I hang up, John is silently entering my office.
“Sir,” he nods at me, stern as ever.
“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Fitz?” I admonish my friend. We served together. Over there, I was ranked higher than him. Despite my many protests, he’s never quite gotten out of the habit of calling me “sir”.
“I’ve run a check on the woman, Ms. Bennet.” I nod, not bothering to be impressed with his speed. Of course he was quick about it, John is the best the security community has to offer.
“She’s sketchy at best, cr
iminal at most realistic.” Handing me a file, he continues, “she’s changed her name, and appearance. Hair dye, contacts, you name it. Her glasses aren’t even real.”
“Hm.” I thumb through the pages. Pictures of two seemingly different women on each side of the folder. Alex Bennet is a curvy long-haired brunette, with brown eyes and black-rimmed glasses. Emily Elliot, on the other hand, had short blonde hair and vibrant blue eyes. She is sickly thin, and presumably has perfect vision.
“How did you find this?” I ask, dropping the folder on my desk.
“It wasn’t easy, I’ll admit.” Huh, that’s a first. “She’s good. No social media, under either alias. She had to get fingerprints for her teaching clearances; I ran them against every DMV database in the country. Found the name Emily Elliot registered in Virginia. Searched public school records, then all of the public social media accounts I could find of her old high school classmates.”
The corner of my lips quirk into a proud smirk; I did train him, after all. John reaches to gather the file from my desk.
“I’ll just call her and tell her the position has already been filled.”
“No,” I blurt out, surprising even myself. John passes me an incredulous glance.
“Ask her to come in for an interview.” I instruct him. He questions me with his eyes. I shrug, explaining, “I’m curious.”
He snorts, turning to leave with an amused smile and a disapproving shake of his head.
Today
Alex left a few hours ago to meet the movers in the city. From Winnie’s updates, I’m sure she’ll be back any minute now. My knuckles go white against the arm of my chair in… what? I question myself. Frustration? Anticipation?
A ping of guilt strikes me as I hear my own cold voice in my head, shutting her down after she asked about Jo. I normally can keep my reaction to questions about her neutral, but that one was unexpected, and my blood boiled before I could even think about it. Seeing the discomfort on Alex’s features instantly froze the feelings, muting them from rage to regret in a heartbeat. That isn't how I wanted our first meeting to go.
She looks even less like “Emily” in person; even her style is changed, at least from what I can tell from the few pictures John was able to dig up of Alex’s skeletons. Emily dressed in bright spring colors, and flowy fabrics. Alex is more refined; her outfit today consisted of plain jeans and a tan sweater. There was something about her classy demeanor, something that gave me the sense she was somehow drowning in the confinement.
I instructed John to keep digging into her past, but until then I intend to get to know Alex, or whatever her name is, the old-fashioned way.
Chapter 5
Alex
“Ready or not, here I come!” I declare, warning the hidden Ella in a sing song voice from my designated counting spot in the library.
A month has passed since the day I moved into the sun-washed Simmons Estate. The cold days are becoming more and more frequent, slowly killing the summer with each frost-covered morning. Ella warmed to me quickly – it’s clear she needs a female figure in her life. She’s close with Rosemary, Fitz’s chef, but Rosemary is often too busy to play with Ella. Without actual school, or any neighbors, Ella wasn’t getting nearly as much social interaction as she needs. I’ve been working to change that.
Her little laugh rings out like a set of holiday bells, alerting me to her location.
“Hmm. Nope! Not in there.” I dramatically swing open the door to the coat closet, feigning disappointment when I don’t find the little girl who’s currently taking refuge behind the couch, for the third round in a row.
“Got you!” I jump behind her, earning a startled scream followed by a delighted laugh.
“You took too long!” Ella chastises me, declaring, “it’s my turn again!”
Before I can teach her any sort of lesson about taking turns, and sharing, she is off, sprinting down the long corridor that lines the main wing of the house. I chuckle to myself, running my fingers along the spines of the many, many books filling the shelf next to me, taking advantage of the small reprieve.
When I finally hit 30, I loudly announce that I’m on the hunt, strolling through the ornate double doors into the main foyer, peering over my shoulder for any evidence that she went the other way. In my moment of distraction, I slam right into a something hard. A solid wall of muscle. Mr. Simmons.
He remains unmoved, but I am knocked several inches backwards, disoriented, more from discomfort than the impact.
He reaches out, catching my elbow in a steadying grip, his brow raised into an amused arch.
“You know, if you want better benefits, all you have to do is ask. No need to stealth attack me in my own home.” He quips, easing the tense air around us.
I laugh despite my discomfort, my feet steadying beneath me. My run-ins with him have been infrequent since the day he interviewed me. I keep meaning to strike up a conversation with him, to apologize for that first day, but I haven’t gotten up the nerve. Rosemary told me that his wife, Ella’s mother, passed away. Since then, I’ve been wracked with guilt for mentioning it.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Simmons, we're playing hide and seek.” My voice has an earnest twinge to it that I did not permit. In the few passing moments that I’ve been around him, I’ve been unable to shake the habit; like I want him to believe I’m genuine, but with every attempt I come off more inauthentic than the last.
Mr. Simmons studies me for a splitting moment. I wring my hands together, uneasy under his dark-eyed gaze.
“How are you enjoying life outside of the city?” The friendly question catches me off guard. My response catches in my throat, ready to pour out like I’m talking to an old friend. Pursing my lips, I catch myself, a silent self-reminder to be professional. I’ve never worked in an environment like this before, and I find it’s best to err on the side of caution.
“It’s lovely here. Thank you, Mr. Simmons.” I nod at him with practiced manners. Without missing a beat, he lets out a roar of laughter, his brows raising all the way up to his hairline.
“You live here, Alex. There’s no need to stand on ceremony. Call me Fitz.” His deep voice is lighter than I’ve heard it. I nod, taking his invitation to answer the question honestly, albeit with a small uncomfortable laugh.
“Okay, noted. It is lovely here, but I do miss the city sometimes. Even Bedford Corners can’t compete with New York at Christmas.” I tell him. The skin between Fitz’s eyebrows bunches in a silent question.
“The lights.” I explain. Nothing in the world could be more beautiful than Christmas time in New York. The streets are lined with lights, each high-rise lobby competing with the next for who can have the grandest Christmas tree of them all. Of course, not a single one even comes close to the tree in Rockefeller center. Not that I’ve had the chance to see it this year.
“Ah, well. Maybe we’ll see if Remy can do something about that.” Fitz refers to his landscaper, muttering almost to himself. I smile at him one last time, spouting some excuse about finding Ella, before padding off down the long hallway, away from the nerve-inducing conversation.
I allow myself one glance backwards before turning the corner. Fitz’s back is towards me as he walks away, encased in a smooth black sweater that I can only assume is cashmere. Mike said he knew Fitz from his time in the service, so I’d assumed he’d be the strict military type, with a buzz cut and starched khaki pants. That couldn't be further from the truth.
Fitz’s hair is cropped towards his face, yes, but its thick black strands are still prominent. On a few mornings I’ve caught him at the coffee maker with a matching 5 o’clock shadow, but by the time breakfast rolls around its always gone – his jaw clean shaven and impossibly well defined.
My angle gives me a generous view of his fitted jeans curving over his obviously muscled backside. I smile to myself for a moment, admiring him, before he turns suddenly catching my eyes with a knowing glint in his own. I quickly make my way around the corner before h
e can see my face grow beet red.
I can’t believe my boss just caught me checking out his ass. Yikes.
Shuttering, I try to shake the embarrassing moment from my brain and refocus on the task at hand.
“Boo!” A well-hidden Ella jumps out at me from inside a large cabinet hiding in the molding of the great hall. I scream, this time not feigning my surprise. My hand flying to my heart, I can’t help but let out a small laugh.
“You got me!” I tell her, praising her hiding abilities. From the corner of my eye I can see Winnie enter the hallway with Ella’s piano teacher, the silent signal telling me it’s time for her lessons. “Okay, it’s time for piano! We’ll play more later, I promise.”
I reassure Ella, responding to the prominent pout on her full lips. Ella might just be the most adorable child I’ve ever seen. Rosemary told me she looks just like her Mom.
“I know Bon, I can’t believe it’s been so long either. I miss you too.” Tucking the cell phone between my chin and my shoulder, I dig through the linen closet in my suite, in search of a couple of towels. The air outside is growing ever colder, but that shouldn't be a problem in Fitz’s indoor pool.
“Mike mentioned planning a dinner with Fitz, I’ll invite myself so we can hang out.” Bonnie declares her master plan, as though her boyfriend wouldn’t already invite her to dinner with his friends.
“You really should come meet Ella, she’s the most precious little thing in the world.” I tell my friend, my mind drifting to our day-long game of hide and seek. By the time 7pm rolled around I was exhausted and well ready for her to go to bed. Now, I’m getting ready to go for a swim.
“I will. Oh—he just walked in the door. Gotta go, I’ll give you an update tomorrow.”