“I’m not getting paid for that,” he says curtly.
She chuckles. “Oh, I’m pretty sure you are.”
The exchange is made even more uncomfortable when he grunts. “You really don’t have to,” I say, trying to give him an out. I certainly didn’t expect him to cook for me. “That’s not part of the agreement.” Or at least I don’t think it is; neither Stephen nor Collette had mentioned it.
Freddie steps away. He keeps a computer on the far side of the kitchen, and with a click of the mouse, the screen lights up. He scrolls, checking on something, probably a food website or cooking blog.
He returns and says something about preparing chicken cordon bleu for dinner.
I try meeting Freddie’s eyes again, not wanting him to be annoyed with me before we’ve had a chance to work together, but no dice. He refuses to look up.
Slicing the last grapefruit with the precise motion of an experienced chef, he takes two bowls and places a half in each one. He pushes the bowls toward Pauline.
“She’s in the next room,” he says solemnly.
I start to move, happily taking that as my cue to leave and follow Pauline. But she stops me in my tracks. Looking at my mug she says, “Oh, we always finish our coffee before we leave the kitchen.”
I glance at her cup, it’s empty. Peering at my own, I see that I still have some left.
I smile awkwardly and she continues smiling at me sweetly. There’s a flicker in her eyes. “Go on. We mustn’t keep Collette waiting.”
I down the rest and place my mug on the counter. “Nice to meet you,” I tell Freddie, and at this, he gives the slightest nod, his attention fixed on the cutting board.
In the breakfast room, Collette is sitting at an oval glass table. The walls are covered in a playful flower print with a large fern propped against one window.
Collette doesn’t jump up to hug me as she did the day before but she does give me an enormous smile as we enter the room, clearly delighted by both my arrival and the grapefruit Pauline places before her. She sprinkles them each with a teaspoon of sugar, scooping into the first half before saying, “Sit with me, please.” And Pauline backs away, letting me slide into one of the extra seats.
I admire Collette, the linen pants and a relaxed white cotton blouse with its pointed collar and button cuffs. I’ve drawn something like this before, featuring a straight hem and front button fastening, but nothing like hers. Collette is wearing Chanel—the brand’s highly recognizable interlocking Cs logo embroidered above the wrist.
On her lips, her signature red lipstick.
I watch as Collette eats before asking, “How is Patty?” I perk my ears for any sounds of her, perhaps a tiny cough from the next room.
“I’m afraid she’s still under the weather today.” And Collette looks at me. “She’s very frail, you see. A fever or a small bug may not be that big a deal for other children, but it will sometimes take days for it to disappear in her.”
Worry rattles my thoughts—I don’t know much about children, but fevers lasting for days can’t be good, right?
“Does she need to see a doctor?” I ask, spinning in my chair as if to consult Pauline, but the housekeeper doesn’t look concerned. Perhaps they’ve already seen someone?
Collette says, “Oh, it’s nothing serious. Just a low-grade fever. You’d be surprised at how children can be prone to these kinds of things when they’re young.” She picks up her spoon, her gaze returning to her breakfast. “And besides, I hate calling the doctor. He’ll just want to put Patty on an antibiotic again, some pink syrupy stuff she’ll be forced to slurp down, as if pumping her full of medicine will make it better—he’s always doing that.” She pinches her eyebrows together in a scowl. “I very much dislike bringing Dr. Edwards here, don’t you agree, Pauline? He’s a worm of a man.” She makes another face. “Alex adores him. He’s worked for us for years and been here for everything, every flu and illness, even Patty’s birth, but I’ve never liked him. Not one bit.”
“He’s only trying to help,” Pauline says gently.
But Collette gives her an exasperated look. “Well, Patty will be fine, she always is. She’s just sleepy. Caught a bug.” She turns to me again. “She’ll be back to her old self in no time, you’ll see. And I bet this time tomorrow you’ll be able to sit down and play.” She claps. “Oh, I can’t wait for you to meet her. I know the two of you will get along splendidly, just like the last nanny. You really do remind me of her…” Her eyes drift away.
“Anna was all right,” Pauline says.
Collette snaps to attention. “She was more than all right,” she says, forcefully.
I give Pauline a funny look, surprised to hear her say anything to the contrary, especially when Collette sounds so smitten.
“What?” Pauline says, looking from me to Collette. “She was sweet, I’ll give you that, but I’m not sure she enjoyed the job that much. Not in the end.” She frowns. And then to clarify further, she says to me, “I’m not sure she really wanted to be a nanny. It was a means to an end for her. She just cared about the money. At the first opportunity she got, she found a different job, turned in her notice, and was out of here.”
“To do what?” Collette asks. “Remind me…”
“She’s a paralegal, I think.” But Pauline looks stumped. “Actually, come to think of it, I can’t remember.” She shrugs. “Anyway, we liked her well enough. She just left so quickly, which left us high and dry for a while.”
“Yes,” Collette says. “That part was unfortunate.”
“But she lasted a year so that’s something.” Pauline grins at me as if to say she hopes I last longer. And then to Collette, “Weren’t you close to asking her to move in?”
My eyes bounce to Collette. Move in here? That’s not something they expect me to do too, right? The apartment is amazing, but I already have my own place, plus Jonathan. That part was not included in the contract. Then I remember that Stephen forgot to give me a copy like he said he would.
“I don’t think she was interested,” Collette says. “She had her own apartment, her own life. But it would have been nice keeping her here with Patty. All of us together, never having to leave this place.” She shares a smile with Pauline. “Wouldn’t that have been wonderful? So convenient and safe.”
“Very convenient,” Pauline agrees.
I look around at the mirrored walls and one-of-a-kind paintings on either side of the kitchen hutch. The glass bowls and imperial Oriental vases with flowering pots. This apartment is spectacular but I don’t want to live here. At the end of the workday, I want to go home to my fiancé and our life together.
I tell myself to chill out—no sense in letting my thoughts rush full steam ahead, worrying over something that won’t happen. If living here was a condition of the job, Stephen would have told me so already. I settle back in my chair.
Collette, ever smiling, sets down her spoon and doesn’t finish her grapefruit. With excitement she says, “I’m going to give my Patty girl a bath.”
CHAPTER EIGHT
Collette gives no indication I should follow. She simply glides out of the room and I’m left sitting at the table. I turn to Pauline.
“You can hang out here, if you’d like,” she says. “Shouldn’t take long.” And with that she heads for the kitchen. Down the hall, the sound of Collette’s footsteps fades as she reaches the other side of the apartment and I stare after her. Why didn’t she ask me to help her with Patty?
“Wait a minute,” I call to Pauline, stopping her. “Should I go with you?”
“You’ll be fine here,” Pauline says and leaves the room.
I slouch in my seat.
From down the hall comes the sound of water gushing. Patty’s bath.
I listen for a while to the clanking of dishes in the kitchen. Freddie and Pauline speaking. The thunder
ous rush of a bathtub filling with pipes groaning and letting forth water into what I assume is a large garden tub.
I rise slowly from my seat—I’ll be proactive and offer to help.
I tiptoe down the hall, feeling my curiosity mount as I move quietly and quickly, past the family room, the one with the dark blue rugs, and past a corridor leading to what I think is Stephen’s study, to a section of the apartment I’m almost positive Stephen showed me yesterday. If I’m right, the door at the end of the hall will lead to Patty’s playroom.
But the gushing water isn’t coming from the end of the hall. It’s somewhere closer, only two doors away, and I’m thinking it’s the little girl’s bathroom. A small cluster of rainbow stickers and hearts are stuck to the doorframe about three feet above the floor, within child’s reach. Like her mother, Patty must like to decorate.
The door isn’t shut all the way and I hear Collette’s singsong voice, a cooing, adoring tone while she speaks to her daughter. And a giggle—the little girl’s? More words from Collette, her animated conversation rising above the steady stream of water.
I step closer to the bathroom, but stop. Taking one look down the hall, I check for any signs of Stephen or Pauline, even Freddie, and the coast is clear.
But I feel a trickle of doubt. It’s not my place to interfere—not yet at least. I haven’t had a chance to establish myself with the girl as her nanny. This shouldn’t be the way we first meet, me spying on her in the bath. I should head back to the breakfast room, where Collette asked me to stay, and demonstrate I can follow instructions at the very least.
But the sound of Collette’s voice draws me closer to the door. What is she saying?
“The water’s nice and warm, Patty Cakes. Climb on in.”
I pause, the nickname making me smile as I picture the small blond girl from the photograph standing beside the tub.
“You’ll love it.” There’s a tinkle in Collette’s laugh. “This will make you feel better.”
The faucet shuts off. The dripping of water followed by silence and then a gentle swish. Collette’s hands running through bubbles. A quick pour followed by another splash, maybe the girl’s toes or hands as she enters the tub.
“I’m so sorry you’ve been feeling sick,” Collette says. “I’m sorry you haven’t been feeling well.”
More splashing. So far, Patty hasn’t made a peep.
I’m starting to wonder if the girl can speak at all. Maybe she’s hard of hearing. But isn’t that something Stephen or someone would have mentioned?
I need to see.
I move closer. The gap in the door is about two inches wide. I’m confident that’s enough room for me to see and I try not to make a sound. From the opening, I spot Collette, or at least the back of her head. She’s on her knees next to—I was right—a garden tub, the sleeves of her white blouse rolled past her elbows. Her hands are immersed in water and her face is turned to one side but I can tell she’s smiling, her lips curving up to her cheeks.
Bubbles rise above the water surface; there’s the distinct smell of strawberry bodywash. Even at this distance I can tell she’s poured in a hefty amount.
I watch as Collette fills a plastic cup with water, lifts it up, pours it down. Up and down it goes, the woman repeating the motion about a half dozen times.
And then she moves. Collette readjusts her position on her knees and turns to the other side. I now have a clear view of the tub.
But there’s nothing.
She is pouring water over nothing.
There is no one.
Only repetitive motion. Up goes the cup, down comes the water. Another scoop of suds, the water cascading over air.
The hairs on the back of my neck do a slow march north. A rolling shiver races down my spine until I feel a cold lump forming at the center of my chest.
There has to be an explanation—it’s not what I’m thinking. The little girl is hiding. I just can’t see her right now.
In Collette’s mind, she is bathing a child, there’s no doubt about it.
Only there is no child.
CHAPTER NINE
The blood in my body runs cold, my heart banging against my ribs.
Collette is speaking to no one. She is washing an empty space in the tub.
I stare down the hall. If this is something wildly peculiar, something they wanted to keep hidden, they’ve done a terrible job guarding the secret.
I release the tension in my shoulders, telling myself there’s no reason to panic, this is just a simple misunderstanding. But the shivering feeling returns.
Who has Collette been talking to?
I’m sorry you’ve been feeling sick.
This will make you feel better.
I’ll find Pauline. She’ll tell me everything I need to know. She’s been here longer than anyone else on staff, since Stephen was a kid and since Patty was a newborn. She’ll be able to explain this in two seconds flat.
I retreat from the bathroom, careful not to make a sound in case Collette looks up from the tub.
And then I bump into something—hard. Pauline is standing in the hallway. She’s as rigid as a statue, her arms firmly by her sides. She sees my startled expression, and from behind me, I hear a splash of water and the sound of Collette’s singsong voice. An eerie giggle. And Pauline’s eyes widen. She lets out a discernible oh as she faces me.
I wait for Pauline to say something else, to give me the explanation I need, but she doesn’t. Her silence is deafening.
“What’s happening?” I ask.
But she still doesn’t answer, only gives me a peculiar look.
“I’ll head back,” I stammer and turn, wishing I could erase the last five minutes.
But Pauline tugs my arm and my stomach twinges with panic. Is she going to tell me what’s going on? Or does the look on her face mean she’s going to march me straight into the bathroom and demand I explain myself to Collette?
But instead, her eyes soften. “It’s all right,” she says quietly. “You don’t have to rush off. I know you must be curious.”
I let my feet roll back on their heels—curious is an understatement.
I lower my voice, painfully aware Collette is on the other side of the doorway. “I heard the bathwater and thought maybe I could help. But I can go back…” I move again, and this time, Pauline releases me.
“Of course you did, dear,” she says, smiling. “You aren’t one to sit around and do nothing. I could tell that about you right away. I’m sure that’s why Stephen and Collette picked you. I would have done the same.”
“Yes.” I appreciate the compliment but the unease is still worming its way through my chest.
The sound of splashing water stops. No more cups dunking.
Has Collette heard us? Does she know we’re out here?
The door opens.
Collette steps from the bathroom; the lights from around the mirrors shine behind her head and glow through her hair, creating a golden halo. She takes one look at me and rolls down the sleeves of her blouse, a few splotches of water dotting the hemline. Another wet patch spreads across her linen pants where she knelt.
“Sarah?” she says, with faint surprise.
“I’m sorry to disturb you. I know Patty’s not feeling well. I wanted to help.”
She steps forward, surprising me. “Would you like to meet her?”
I feel a rush of emotions, confusion too. Patty is in there. I just didn’t see her beneath the bubbles.
Collette pushes open the door and it creaks softly. I move forward, Collette shifting to one side as she gives me space to enter the bathroom.
I look ahead, ready to greet her.
CHAPTER TEN
But there’s no Patty, only a tub filled to the brim with soapy water. No girl.
“Mrs. Bird…
” I say. “I don’t understand…” I peer at her, begging for an explanation. “Where is Patty?”
But Collette only laughs and gives me a look as if she’s about to pinch my arm and yell, Surprise! We’ve played a trick, and the girl will come jumping out from behind the door. I’ll feel like a fool but I won’t be able to deny the relief.
Instead, she says, “What’s the matter? Don’t you see her?” And she broadens her smile. “She’s right there.”
I stare hard at the tub, a quiver in my stomach. But there’s nothing but bubbles.
Collette touches my hand gently, making goosebumps spread across my skin. “She’s right there,” she repeats.
* * *
—
Stephen appears like lightning, as if Pauline has summoned him with an alert from across the apartment, and he’s pulling me away, the worry unmistakable in his eyes, his face ashen as he motions for me to follow him down the hall.
When we arrive at his office, he sinks heavily in the chair behind his desk. “Patty doesn’t exist,” he says.
A thunderclap sounds in my ears—I’m sure I didn’t hear him correctly.
“I’m sorry, what?”
“She doesn’t exist—I mean, she did.” He grimaces, his eyes dropping. “But she doesn’t anymore. She died when she was young. She was only three.” And I’m aware of my breath slowing. I’m hearing him, but not processing anything he’s saying. “She died a long time ago. Collette has never been the same. My stepmother…” He glances at the door as if suddenly worried she’s followed us. “She’s been through a lot.” His eyes slide back to me. “It’s been difficult for everyone.”
My mouth hangs open, as if I’m a fish that’s been heaved out of the water and thrown on the deck, struggling to breathe, a panicked convulsion as I fight for each labored intake of air.
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