I have a feeling that I’m not going to get this job after all, Adrienne thought. This girl is going to hate me.
Adrienne continued moving toward Emma, and kept talking to her slowly and carefully.
“I will go over your translation when you are finished, and then, your mother has instructed me to see that you practice piano. If you have done all of that by four o’clock, then what, exactly, is it you want to do?” Adrienne smiled at Emma the same way her own mother smiled at her when she was beaten during an argument.
Emma swallowed and stepped back. She was obviously not used to this. “Well, I don’t need you to help me with the French, just to check it when I’m done. Also, I only practice piano for fifteen minutes.”
“You’re going to practice until you play your piece perfectly. What on earth is so important?”
Emma squirmed in discomfort. “Oprah.”
Adrienne smiled. “Oprah?”
“Tania and I watch Oprah every day.”
“I love Oprah,” Adrienne said.
Emma smiled shyly, and Adrienne smiled back.
“You look almost finished with that,” Adrienne said, glancing at the translation. “I’ll go to the kitchen with Tania. When you’re done, come and get me and I’ll go over it with you.”
“Okay,” Emma said, the moment between them broken. “See you.”
Adrienne backed out of the room, her heart pounding. I won, she thought. I won. Adrienne was thrilled. I totally won that argument! Then she realized: Who gets excited over winning an argument with an eight-year-old?
I must chill, she thought.
Tania waited in the hall. She smiled when she saw Adrienne. “You come to kitchen. I give snack.”
They walked back to the kitchen together. Tania gave Adrienne the rundown on the previous nannies.
“Magda, she first. Miss Emma, she put her coat in microwave. Big stink. Louise come next. No one know what happen. She just leave screaming. Diane is three, but she steal from Miss Cameron, is fired. Still, but I think Miss Emma does it sneaky-like. Last one, Gladys. She Bisquit bite her leg. Was accident.” Tania looked at Adrienne. “You be careful.”
This is not a great beginning, Adrienne thought.
The two stepped into the kitchen together, and Tania poured her an iced tea and gave her a small piece of poached salmon inside a puff-pastry shell. It was delicious, and light as air. Adrienne didn’t even like fish.
“Is Russian. Coulibiac. I cook good, no?”
Adrienne just nodded, when Emma came in. “Check it,” she demanded.
“Check it what, Emma?”
Emma stared blankly, and folded her arms.
“Emma, look.” Adrienne stood up and stared down the bossy little girl. “You can be a pain, and I can be mean—or we can work together. What do you say?”
“Check it…please,” Emma said, handing over the work. Tania raised her eyebrows, and Adrienne smiled.
She ran her eyes over the translation. It was unbelievably difficult. Wow, she thought. She did a really good job. There were no mistakes she could see—only one verb that was in the wrong tense.
“You have this verb in the passé composé. It shouldn’t be,” Adrienne pointed out.
“I’m glad you caught that. I put it in deliberately.”
Adrienne looked at her. This little girl is a piece of work, she thought. Testing me?
“Piano, Emma. Now,” Adrienne said.
Emma rolled her eyes and went into the living room with Adrienne behind her.
Adrienne swallowed as she looked around the room. The ceilings were high, and the tall windows overlooked Central Park. They were hung with long, cream-colored satin curtains, through which the afternoon light shone. The furniture was gilded, and obviously expensive. It looked like the kind of stuff in palaces in old movies—and there was a lot of it. I’ll bet you could have fifty people in this room, Adrienne thought, and they’d all have a place to sit. By the window sat a huge black piano that gleamed. Adrienne couldn’t imagine that Emma’s hands were big enough to play it.
With a sigh, Emma sat down at the piano.
If I have to listen to scales every day, Adrienne thought. She shook her head and reminded herself, It’s only for two weeks. Suddenly, Emma began to play.
Adrienne’s mouth opened. Emma was a genius.
Her fingers ran up and down the keyboard with surprising speed and agility. Adrienne had taken piano lessons for years, yet she had never gotten anywhere near as good. I can’t believe this girl is only eight! she thought. I think I’m going to quit the piano.
Emma leaned into the keys, coaxing the beautiful Mozart piece from the instrument. Finishing with a flourish, Emma turned to Adrienne with a slightly anxious expression. “Can I watch Oprah now?” she asked. “Please?”
“Oprah it is,” Adrienne said.
Emma beamed, and leaped from the piano seat. She raced back to the kitchen, and Adrienne followed her. Tania was waiting for them and had plates with cookies and glasses of milk ready. The theme music for Oprah came on, and Emma turned to Adrienne, grinning.
“Adrienne!” she cried. “Incredible weight-loss makeovers! Have a cookie and sit down—these are the best. Tania always cries.”
“Big people get skinny and beautiful. Break my heart, I so happy for them,” Tania said, nodding.
Adrienne joined them on the sofa. Bisquit came in and seemed surprised to see her still there. He jumped onto the sofa between Adrienne and Emma, who ignored him.
Adrienne gave Bisquit a piece of her cookie, and he looked at her adoringly through moist eyes.
Well, well, Adrienne thought. It looks like I’m going to get along just fine. She glanced around at the incredible room. I can’t believe how much money they must have, she thought. Liz never mentioned that this was like a palace! Adrienne settled back into the soft suede-covered sofa. I think I could get used to it here!
CHAPTER FOUR
perfect in Prada
After Oprah, Emma was served dinner. She ate early because her mother liked her in bed early. After dinner, she began to get nervous. “It’s almost seven,” she said. “My mother will be coming soon. You’d better get me into my bath. She’ll freak out if I’m not in there.”
“What time will she get home?” Adrienne asked.
Emma gave her a blank look. “She is home. She’s in her room.”
Adrienne blinked. “She’s been in her room this whole time?”
“Of course,” Emma said. “She needs her rest.”
What is up with these people? Adrienne thought. No interview, and leaving me here alone with her servants and her child? This is really weird. Adrienne tried not to look too surprised. “Thanks for the clue,” she said. “Do you need me to help you in there, or can I just run the bath for you?”
“Just run it. I use lavender soap. Not too hot,” Emma instructed.
“You got it,” she said, turning to go to Emma’s bathroom.
“Oh, Adrienne?” Emma said.
“Yes?” she replied.
“That green sweater? My mother hates green. You need to change your sweater.”
“Are you serious?” Adrienne asked.
“Very serious. My mom has fired people over less.”
I can’t piss off Mrs. Warner right away, Adrienne thought. But who goes berserk over a color?
“Hurry! You can borrow something from my half-sister,” Emma said.
“Okay,” Adrienne said reluctantly. “But will she mind if I borrow her clothes?”
“Mind?” Emma said. “She’ll never even know.”
Adrienne followed Emma down the hall, where they could just hear Tania and Mrs. Warner murmuring in the entryway.
The two girls slipped into Cameron’s room.
Adrienne looked around. Like Emma’s room, Cameron’s had a huge window overlooking Central Park and the skyline. Unlike Emma’s, the room was for no little girl. Stark and modern, Cameron’s room looked like what Adrienne imagined a mov
ie star’s bedroom would be. On every wall, there were black-and-white fashion photographs of supermodels, most of them signed to Cameron.
“You’d better hurry before my mom finds us,” Emma said, opening the door to Cameron’s closet.
Adrienne’s jaw dropped. It was like walking into an entire boutique at Barneys. Her eyes ran over the dozens of cashmere sweaters, which lined one bank of shelves.
“Quickly,” Emma said again. “Take that pale gray one. It will look good on you, and Cameron will never miss it. She’s so dumb, she won’t even notice it’s gone. Hurry!”
Worried a bit about taking the sweater, but even more nervous about making the wrong impression on Mrs. Warner, Adrienne grabbed the sweater and followed Emma back down the hall to her room. Emma went to take her bath and left Adrienne alone.
Adrienne took off the green sweater and put it on Emma’s bed. She unfolded the gray sweater and noticed the incredible softness of the fabric. She held it up to her body and looked into Emma’s dressing mirror. The mirror was short for her so she had to stoop a little. It looks good, she thought. Then, Adrienne noticed the label: Prada.
Oh, wow, Adrienne thought. Prada. I’ll bet this sweater costs over a thousand dollars. She sighed. There was no time to risk going back to Cameron’s closet. She pulled the sweater over her head.
The sweater fit perfectly, and the pale color brought out her green eyes and red hair. Taking a deep breath, she decided it was time to meet Mrs. Warner.
As she stepped out of Emma’s room, Adrienne got her first look at her new boss.
Mrs. Warner was very pretty—or had been once. Her skin was beautiful but very tight. Maybe a face-lift? Adrienne thought. Her blond hair was carefully styled, and her nails were manicured perfectly in a pale, natural color. She wore a pink Chanel tweed suit with black bows on it and stood on impossibly high pink and black shoes that showed off her gorgeous long legs. Finally, around her neck were the largest black and white pearls that Adrienne had ever seen. She couldn’t even believe that they were real.
“Here she is,” Tania said. “Miss Emma like her, and me, too.”
“Adriana, how very nice to meet you,” Mrs. Warner said, extending her hand. “We are so glad to have you on board. We’ve had such trouble with nannies.” She smiled prettily. “I’m sure Tania has told you everything.”
“Not really,” Adrienne replied. Mrs. Warner seemed nice. “But my name is Adrienne.”
“Oh, of course, dear. I’m so sorry. I’ve lost my head. Well, we are expecting a nanny in two weeks from London. We have the hardest time with the help here, and we can’t have just anyone; as you can tell, Emma is a very special child. She needs someone very qualified. So when I asked Dr. Markham-Collins if she knew anyone, and she recommended you, well, that was good enough for me.”
Adrienne smiled. What on earth did Liz say about me? she wondered.
“Now, tell me about yourself,” Mrs. Warner said.
“Well, I’m in high school. I’ve done lots of babysitting before—in my building or for friends of my parents. My parents are both professors at Columbia University. I’m an only child—”
“Great,” Mrs. Warner said. “Let me just tell you everything about our little family. You won’t really need to know all this, but I just want you to feel informed. No surprises.” Mrs. Warner smiled. “Why don’t you come into my office? We can chat there.”
Adrienne followed Mrs. Warner through the apartment. She barely had time to look around. Mrs. Warner spoke so quickly, and seemed to want to tell her everything about their family before they even made it to her office.
“Mr. Warner works late and leaves early. You probably will never even see him, but you might see his son, Graydon. Gray is at Columbia, but he’s always stopping by to eat the food or use the computer.” She looked at Adrienne carefully. “He’s not my son. He’s from the first Mrs. Warner. The first Mrs. Warner was someone my husband met in college. After Mr. Warner made his money, she divorced him and kept the house, their friends, and the bank accounts. He had nothing! I tell you.”
“I see,” Adrienne said.
“Well, it took him years, and I mean years, to make the money back, and then who does he meet?”
“You?” Adrienne asked.
“No, dear, sadly for him. He met the second Mrs. Warner. She is Cameron’s mother. A supermodel. From nowhere. I mean, she was practically a…never mind. Anyway, Cameron is her daughter. Very beautiful. I have high hopes for her. Well, that marriage ended, and now I am the third and final Mrs. Warner. We had Emma eight years ago. It’s a real love match for us. I have, of course, been trying to make up for lost time. Mr. Warner never cared about the family’s social position, so I have to do all the work. The right apartment. The right schools. The right friends. The right charities. And the right nanny,” she finished, showing Adrienne into her office, which looked like a room at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. It was full of expensive furniture and paintings and many bouquets of flowers. She gestured to a small chair across the desk from her, sat down opposite from Adrienne, and continued talking.
“The children are very busy. Graydon is in his junior year and wants to go to business school. Cameron can’t get this modeling bug out of her system. I’d really prefer her to be a debutante and marry someone nice. College is really for other people, don’t you think?” she asked, not waiting for an answer. “I, myself,” she continued, “generally wake up early, have Pilates training, and then a massage in the gym next to my bedroom. Afterward, my personal assistant, hairdresser, makeup artist, and stylist arrive around eight o’clock. I have a little espresso and go over my plans for the day.”
Adrienne blinked. That doesn’t sound so rough, she thought.
“Then, after some morning phone calls with my charities, I generally have a lunch date, and then I come home.” Mrs. Warner smiled. “And that is when I really need you, Adriana.”
“Adrienne,” she insisted.
“Of course you are,” Mrs. Warner said, getting up and moving to the door. “I need absolute peace and quiet while I rest. I never want to be disturbed. Sometimes I have important meetings in my office and I can’t have interruptions of any kind. So I need a nanny to keep Emma occupied, and sometimes to stay with her in the evening if Mr. Warner and I go out and Tania isn’t available. Is that all right with you?”
Adrienne nodded. Doesn’t sound too bad, she thought.
“But why has it been so hard for you to find someone?” she asked.
Mrs. Warner seemed annoyed at the question. “Well, Emma is a prodigy. We’re planning for her to begin high school by ten, and to graduate from Harvard at fourteen, so that she can devote herself to studying the piano. I need someone here every day for her. Every day.”
Every day? Adrienne thought. I thought it was just for two or three days. She thought carefully. I can hang on for two weeks.
Mrs. Warner continued. “Well, that’s all you need to know, and here you are for today.” She handed her an envelope. “We’ll see you on Monday, then?”
Yes! Adrienne thought with relief. I got the job, and she didn’t bust me for the sweater! “Monday it is,” Adrienne replied. “Thank you, Mrs. Warner.”
“Oh no, thank you,” she replied. “By the way, that’s a gorgeous sweater on you. Is it Prada?”
“Yes,” Adrienne said, but her mind whirled. Should I admit that I borrowed it? she thought, terrified that Mrs. Warner would recognize it as Cameron’s.
“You young girls can get away with those severe cuts. Not me—I need something less hip,” she said, turning to model her exquisitely tailored suit that showed her long legs to perfection.
“Oh, I think you could wear anything you wanted to, Mrs. Warner.”
“You’re a lamb. Thank you.” Mrs. Warner led Adrienne out of the office and into the front hall, where they heard the clicking of high heels on the mosaic floor. Mrs. Warner turned to see who it was. “Oh, Cameron!” she exclaimed.
“I didn’t
know if you’d be in time to meet the new nanny, Adriana.”
Adrienne turned in horror. Oh no, she thought. Now I’m really busted. Adrienne faced Cameron, prepared for the worst.
Cameron Warner was seventeen years old, but she looked far older than that. Five feet ten inches tall, she wore high-heeled Manolo Blahnik boots that pushed her over six feet. She was long and lean, with the scarily thin body required of fashion models. She had long, straight blond hair and perfectly white skin. Cameron posed in the archway with her purple Bergdorf and black Barneys shopping bags. Apparently, for Cameron, the world was her runway.
Cameron gazed right at Adrienne as she sauntered across the hall. She is unbelievably gorgeous, Adrienne admitted to herself. It was Cameron’s eyes that were the most unusual. They were a pale silvery gray with a hint of aqua, and they held Adrienne’s gaze intently. Could they be contacts? Adrienne wondered. Cameron wore jeans that fit perfectly and a white cashmere turtleneck. But she wore the simple outfit as if it were the most expensive outfit from Paris. Who knows, Adrienne thought. If this sweater is any indication of what her clothes cost, those may be the most expensive jeans ever.
“Some more shopping, darling?” Mrs. Warner asked. “You know that your father asked you to tone it down a bit. Five thousand a month is really enough for school clothes.”
Five thousand a month? thought Adrienne. They wear uniforms at their school!
“Whatever, Christine,” Cameron said, walking right by Adrienne, dropping her bags on the floor, and scooping up the shaking Bisquit, who had run in. She walked over to her stepmother and they kissed each other, staying well away from each other’s makeup. Cameron turned to Adrienne. “Who’s this?” she asked.
“This is Emma’s new nanny,” Mrs. Warner said.
“It is so nice to meet you,” Cameron said. “You look so familiar to me! Do you go to Pheasant-Berkeley?”
“No, but my friend Liz Braun does,” Adrienne jumped in before remembering Liz’s warning.
Confessions of a Teen Nanny Page 3