“Yes!”
“But it’s for my daughter. She wants it.” She glances at the empty space beside her, then back at the boy. “You can choose another one…” She points at the display. There are bunnies and puppies, but no more teddy bears. “How about a sweet panda?”
He stomps his foot. “No, I want the bear.” And he turns. “Daddy! She won’t give it.”
A man appears wearing a windbreaker and a small backpack on one shoulder, a drink thermos sticking out from the mesh pocket. Possibly tourists.
“Hey, buddy. Let’s find you something else,” he says, placing his hands on the boy’s shoulders. He sweeps an apologetic glance at Collette.
But pitiful tears form in the boy’s eyes. “I want that one!”
Collette instinctively drops to her knees. Drinking him in, she mulls the child over and asks, “What’s your name?”
He releases a sniffle. “Justin.”
“Well, Justin. My daughter really wants the bear too. But I tell you what.” Her hand reaches out. “I’ll buy you whatever you want. Anything on this table.” She grabs hold of a panda and presses it gently against his chest. “What do you think?”
The man blinks his surprise. “No, that’s not necessary—”
“But I don’t want the panda!” the boy shrieks. “I want teddy!”
Another squeeze of the boy’s shoulders. Flustered by his kid’s outburst, the man tries turning his child away. “Come on, buddy. Let’s look at something else—”
“The teddy!” Justin stomps.
“I’ll buy you anything you want,” Collette whispers to the kid, her face within inches of his.
My eyes lock with the man’s, a startled pinch across his cheeks.
I try to usher Collette away. “We should get going, Mrs. Bird.” But she doesn’t budge.
Brushing the toy against his hands, she tells the boy in a hushed voice, “Come on now, Justin. Take it.” They’re the same words she used to persuade me to grasp the lock of Patty’s hair. My mouth runs dry.
The boy swats the panda to the ground. “Give me the bear now!” he screams.
Something in Collette’s face crumbles—a look of despair that lasts half a second before flipping to outrage. “Now you’ve gone and messed it up!” She rescues the toy from the floor and brushes at it with an angry swipe of her hand. “I said I would buy you anything—so take it!” She hurls the toy into the kid’s hands.
Appalled at his own child’s behavior, the intense reaction from Collette, or both, the man grabs hold of his son.
“Let’s settle down. Everything’s going to be fine—”
But Collette screams, “Your kid’s nothing but a brat!”
The man jerks away. The boy lets out a howl.
Shit. My eyes skirt the area for the nearest exit.
I step forward. “Mrs. Bird, let’s go. Now.” I pull her by the elbow.
She begins to move and the boy drops the panda, his eyes staying locked on what’s in her hands. “She’s taking it!”
“I’m so sorry,” I tell his father, trying my best to move Collette along. “I’m sure they have more in the back. Can you ask a salesperson?”
The man stands in disbelief.
Collette unleashes another jab. “Tell your kid to stop crying! He’s had his chance!”
I yank hard until she almost loses her footing. She’s skittering but soon finds her balance on those damn stiletto heels she insisted on wearing, and I half-drag, half-pull her toward the stairs.
The boy is still hollering. “This is outrageous,” the man shouts after her. “You’re a real class act.”
Collette shrieks. “Tell your kid to get over it!”
The boy breaks free from his dad and rushes at Collette, tears dripping down his face. He tries to wrench the bear free from her grasp, but she screams—and it’s such a high-pitched, bloodcurdling sound that anybody in the store will think someone is being bludgeoned to death. Not a grown woman and a child arguing over a bear.
The father chases after Justin and pulls him away just in time for Collette to do the most horrible thing.
She smacks the man across the face.
The sound of the hard slap pierces the room as his head is knocked back and the skin on his face turns red and then splotchy white where her fingers had been.
An audible gasp leaps from everyone nearby, including me. A repeated loud noise slams against my eardrums until I realize it’s my heartbeat.
Collette has assaulted a man in broad daylight, and in front of dozens of people. Over a damn teddy bear.
Before anything else can happen—before the dad can lunge at Collette and before the cops are called—I drag her down the stairs.
My heart pounds as we make it to the bottom floor. Collette is skidding and slipping and doing her best to wrestle herself from my grip, but I won’t let go. At some point, she manages to pull wads of cash from her purse—twenties, hundreds, she’s not taking the time to count—and throws them in the air, letting the bills cascade from her in a rainfall of money.
“For the bear!” Collette shouts triumphantly as an audience of bewildered shoppers stare at her dumbly.
I whirl my head around to the lunatic grin on her face. She can slap a man in public, but God forbid anyone accuse her of shoplifting.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
“What in God’s name happened?”
I’m sitting across from Alex Bird, who’s seated behind the desk in his study. He looks ready to kill me.
“It’s a toy store, for Christ’s sake,” Mr. Bird says. “A toy store. How in the world did that end in such a shitstorm?” He points a long finger in my direction. “What did you do?”
Me? What’s he talking about? I’m not the one who assaulted someone.
“You were there less than thirty minutes.” He rocks back and forth in his chair until the wheels are rattling against the floorboards. “Why didn’t you stop her?”
“I’m sorry. I had no idea—”
“The police were called, did you know that? The police.” He rakes his hands through his hair. “And now I’ve got to deal with that too. Deal with the cops and make this whole mess go away.” He yanks drawers open, then slams them, shoving papers from one side of his desk to the other until I’m not sure he’s looking for anything in particular. He’s so jacked up he wants to do something—anything—with his hands.
He pulls at his tie next, undoing its knot, and tugs at his shirt buttons too. He’s so angry it’s like he could be choking; the color of his face is scarlet red, his neck turning a deeper purple. Mr. Bird slams another desk drawer.
Whereas Stephen keeps his study tidy and devoid of paper, a minimalist’s approach, Mr. Bird’s office looks like a bomb went off inside. Stacks of paper are piled everywhere, notepads and scribbled notes and folders bound together with clips. Either it’s always this messy or Mr. Bird came in here last night and wrecked the damn place.
Spit forms at the corners of his mouth. His eyes flash. He’s waited until I returned this morning to scream at me.
“An absolute nightmare,” Mr. Bird says. “What in the hell was she thinking? Throwing a fit over a damn teddy bear—we have a thousand more toys like that at home. Why does she need another one?”
I don’t dare tell him it’s for Patty’s birthday party.
“The man is thinking about pressing charges, did you know that?” I sink lower in my seat. “Charges! Against my wife!” He’s shaking. “The store manager said they’re considering issuing an official complaint. They don’t want Collette to return to their store ever again, which, after what happened, is fine by me.” He cuts through the air with both hands. “She’s not going anywhere.”
I shrink where I sit, not knowing what to say.
His cold, steely look shoots at me from across the de
sk. “Stephen said we would start allowing small trips. That you would be there every step of the way. How could you let this happen?”
“I was just trying to help—”
“Bullshit!” He slams his hands on the desktop. “You could have stopped her. You could have gotten her out of there.”
The heat rises in my neck. “How was I supposed to know something like a bear was going to set her off?”
Another slam of the hands. “Everything sets her off, Sarah. Everything. Don’t you understand that yet? Haven’t you noticed?”
“I’m sorry,” I say again and grip the armrests of my chair to keep my cool.
Mr. Bird won’t let up. “You were with her. You should have gotten her out of the store the moment she started to lose it, not wait for it to spiral out of control.”
It’s my turn to glare at him. But he holds out a hand. “I thought I made it perfectly clear you had to stop this kind of thing from happening. I told you how important it is that our family name be protected, that nothing can get out.” He lowers his voice in a threatening grumble. “I’ll do everything in my power to protect this family.”
“But what about her?” I shout. “What about her needs?”
He rises to his feet. “How dare you speak to me like you know anything? You don’t know a goddamn thing about what we’ve been through or what she needs.”
“I know she needs serious help. A proper hospital. Every day, she’s falling apart.”
“You let me handle that,” he snaps. “I’ve been dealing with this a lot longer than you. You’ve been here a week and you think you know what’s best?” His arm whips out and he knocks a stack of folders from his desk, papers and notebooks sweeping to one side and landing on the floor. He ignores the mess, but I jump.
“We all know the best thing for her is to stay home,” he says. “With a nanny. Stephen convinced me a few outings could work. He said it would be good for her, that I could trust her to be with you. I caved. And look where it’s gotten us…”
But I’m not to blame! I want to shout. You’re the ones who let her believe she still sees her daughter. You’re the ones keeping her in this fantasy world and doing this to her—not me.
I can’t be the only one who knows this is wrong, that this charade can’t go on forever. And when the truth is exposed, when Collette finally realizes her daughter is dead, she’ll be destroyed. The heartache will rip through her soul and she’ll spiral into a dangerous tailspin. Slicing her skin and running out in front of a car will pale in comparison with what she’ll try next.
And whose fault will it be then?
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
I leave the apartment, pushing past Malcolm so he can’t see the tears welling up in my eyes.
At the subway, I choke back my anger and wipe more tears from my cheeks. When I return home, I rush toward Jonathan for a hug at the exact same time he says, “I got a job!” But the smile on his face drops the moment I fold into his arms.
“Whoa,” he says, his body tensing. His arms wrap around me in a tight hug. “What’s going on? What happened?” He pulls away. “Are you hurt?” I mumble no, my mouth pressed against his shoulder. “Are you okay, Sarah? You’re scaring me.”
I stand back. “I’m sorry.”
“What happened?”
I rub my eyes. “What were you saying? You got a job?”
“Yes, that wine bar in SoHo.” He shakes his head. “But never mind. What happened?”
I don’t know where to begin. But I can’t keep it a secret anymore. Not from the only person who I know will be on my side.
“There is no little girl,” I tell him.
He doesn’t say a word, only scrunches his face in confusion.
“The girl,” I tell him. “Patty. She’s dead.”
Still, Jonathan only stares.
“There’s no one to nanny,” I explain. “There never has been.” And before I know it, the words are rushing out: the girl’s death, Collette’s illness, the fake nannies. What the family wants to hide.
It’s nearly impossible for Jonathan to comprehend right away. He looks at me intently, wheels turning, eyes shifting, as he takes in every word.
I drop to the futon mattress, exhausted. I’ve blurted out what I promised and signed a contract never to do, but I’m at my breaking point. I need to let Jonathan in—I can’t do this on my own. If I’m going to share my life with him, I need to come clean.
Jonathan monitors me as if he’s seen a ghost. I cradle my face with my hands.
“So it’s all made up?” he asks.
“All of it. I would have told you sooner but they made me sign a contract. They threatened to sue us both if I ever told. All of the nannies have been under contract not to speak to anybody.”
“Wait…” Jonathan raises a hand. “All of the nannies? How many? For how long?”
“The last twenty years.”
“Sarah…” He’s rubbing his head, struggling for the right words. “This is…”
“Severely messed up?”
“Yes.” His eyes race to meet mine. “And you’ve been going in every day and doing what? Pretending?”
“Yes.” I tell him everything: the make-believe games, the housekeeper and chef and doorman, Malcolm, who I’m almost positive knows. The stepson, who organized the interview. The ghoulish birthday party I’m supposed to be helping to plan. The dress-cutting incident, Collette’s drunkenness. Alex Bird yelling at me about the toy store disaster.
“Holy shit,” Jonathan breathes when I’m finished. But that’s not all. There are so many other details I’m preparing to tell him when my phone buzzes in my back pocket.
Three more buzzes, a string of messages coming in one after the other.
Oh, please don’t let it be Alex Bird. Or Collette.
It’s Stephen.
My dad lost his cool but he’s calmed down now.
It’s going to be okay.
I snort when I read this, unable to picture Mr. Bird in any way, shape, or form calming down.
Not to mention these messages are coming from Stephen—I’m still not certain if I can trust him.
The next text reads: We’ll see you tomorrow. When I don’t respond, he says: Don’t forget you signed a contract.
My heart sinks inside my chest.
* * *
—
“We need to track down the former nannies,” Jonathan says that night. “Get them to talk. Find out what happened, how they got out.”
I’m still sitting on the bed, my phone thrown against the pillow, avoiding Stephen’s texts. “The first nanny took off when Patty died,” I tell him. “That was twenty years ago, so God knows where she is now. The second nanny died—” His eyebrows shoot sky-high. “No, nothing like that. It was an accident. She got hit by a cab in the middle of the street.”
“Jesus,” Jonathan says. “So what happened to the next nanny?”
“She only lasted a year and took a different job.”
“What’s she doing now?”
“She’s a paralegal, I think.”
“We have to find her.”
“We?”
“Yes, we.” He squeezes my hand. “I’m here to help you.”
“I don’t want you getting pulled into this mess.”
“I love you. We’re getting married and we’re going to spend the rest of our lives together. So, yes, absolutely I’m going to help. Don’t even try to stop me. There’s got to be something this other nanny can tell us.”
I shrug. “I have no idea how to find her. Her first name is Anna, that’s all I know. I’m not even sure if she’s still in New York.”
“Well, let’s find out,” he says. “We need to know what she went through.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
I’m holdin
g a bag of clothes and two paperbacks. They’re mine but Malcolm won’t know that. “Pauline asked that I bring these back to Anna,” I tell him.
“Anna, the last nanny?” he says. And then he averts his eyes to watch someone pass us on the street.
I lift the bag higher to my chest.
“I’ve got to return these. Pauline said something about her taking a different job but staying in New York?”
Malcolm watches a cab drive by, barreling down the street before turning on Columbus. “Anna…” he says slowly. “I haven’t thought about her in a while. I wonder what she’s been up to.”
I shrug. “I have no idea, but I’m sure she misses working here.”
He smirks. “Sure.” His eyes drop. He clears his throat. “I have no idea where she is now. It’s a shame, really. I liked her—” He smiles in my direction. “Oh, I like you too.”
“Thanks,” I say awkwardly.
We stand for a few moments, the pair of us watching the empty street.
“So,” I say to him again, jostling the bag. “I’ve got to get these back to her, I’m sure she’ll want them. Any chance you know where she lives?”
Malcolm thinks for a bit. “She was out in Brooklyn before, or maybe it was Queens? Hell, she could have moved to Hoboken after quitting this place, I honestly don’t know.” He pauses. “My buddy sure misses her though.”
“Oh?”
He laughs. “Yeah, Judd. He used to come by and bring me sandwiches from his food stall over at the Grand Bazaar. Anything left over he’d pedal this way. I miss that. And he loved coming by to catch a glimpse of Anna. She’s real pretty. Judd would try to chat her up, as if she was ever going to give him the time of day.” Malcolm lets out a laugh. “She was blond and thin, just like Mrs. Bird. I swear, they could have been sisters. Super pretty…” He grins. “It’s a damn shame she left.”
“And now you’ve got me,” I say, trying to joke.
Malcolm smiles. “It’s a good thing Judd doesn’t have his food stall anymore or he’d be pulling up and asking for your number too.” He winks. “He even got as far as asking Anna out on a date. She said no and he was crushed. She told him she had a serious boyfriend and, in fact, I’m pretty sure they got married.” He looks at me. “When you look her up, try checking out her new married name, Cewenski.”
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