The Nanny's Knickers

by Wren Mingua

  “I'm not on Kyle's side, honey,” her mother protested. “I just... I'm just...”

  “You're what?”

  “Disappointed,” her mother finished with a sigh. “I just want you to be happy.”

  “I am happy,” Zoe insisted. “I don't need a man to be happy.” And it was true. Before meeting Kyle, Zoe had been single for three years, and she swore those were the happiest years of her life. Since most of her relationships had ended in grief, it hardly seemed worth it.

  “Well... try not to be too cynical, dear. I don't want you to end up like me. Fifty-five. Unmarried. Alone...”

  “But you're not alone,” Zoe said. With a wink, she added, “You have Roger.”

  Beverly rolled her eyes. “I don't have Roger. Not yet, anyway..."

  “Anyway, Mom, there was some other stuff I needed to tell you. For instance...” Before dropping the bomb, Zoe winced, “I got laid off from work.”

  “Oh my. Please tell me you're joking.”

  “Nope.” Zoe shook her head. “They let go of five teachers... including one kindergarten teacher. Me.”

  “Awww, but you were so good with those kids!”

  Zoe shrugged.

  “No wedding. No job.” Beverly frowned as she recapped her daughter's unfortunate situation. “What are you going to do now?”

  “Well... there was something else I needed to tell you.”

  Beverly clutched her chest. “SOMETHING ELSE? You're going to make me pass out with all this bad news!”

  “Well, it's a good thing you're sitting down,” Zoe said with a chuckle. “Before Kyle and I broke up, we were planning to go to the UK.”

  “I thought your honeymoon was going to be in Bora Bora?”

  “Not a honeymoon,” Zoe corrected her. “We were thinking about moving to the UK. We had visas and everything.”

  “Ohhh no... don't tell me--”

  “I'm going to live in England for awhile,” Zoe said, confirming her mother's fears. “And hopefully I'll be able to find a job.”

  Chapter Three

  Excerpt from Zoe's blog--

  You know how they call it “jolly old England?” Well, it's not really that jolly. I'm not saying the people are rude, but they glare at me as soon as I open my mouth. I don't think being a "yank" is a good thing.

  When she looked out the cab's window, she was greeted by the sight of a giant clock. Big Ben. Her cab was stalled in traffic right outside the Houses of Parliament, which meant she had a perfect opportunity to do some sightseeing. On the other side of the street was Westminster Abbey, encased in a halo of morning sun. It was an impressive sight, but she was even more impressed by the hustle and bustle of tourists that cluttered the sidewalks.

  It was a busy day in London.

  “Izzit your first time in London?” asked the cockney cab driver.

  “Yeah.”

  “Aye. I thought as much.” He started at her in the rear view mirror. “You have the look of a first timer.”

  Zoe had to wonder what a “first timer” looked like. Did she not look like a Londoner? Could they spot an American from a million miles away? Would she stand out like a sore thumb everywhere she went? His comment was innocent enough, but it had her feeling paranoid.

  Several minutes later, they arrived at her hotel. She took out some colorful bank notes and gave the driver a generous tip. She checked into the hotel and crashed on her bed. She was exhausted, utterly and thoroughly. An eight hour ride on a plane wasn't exactly her idea of a good time.

  It didn't take long for loneliness to set in. She was alone in another country—her friends and family were on the other side of an ocean! She didn't know anyone. If she had a problem, there wasn't a single soul she could turn to. She felt like she was starting from scratch.

  She got out her laptop, checked her social networks, and emailed a few of her friends, including her mother. It made her feel a little bit better. Just a bit.

  Then she felt obligated to do some sightseeing, so she rolled out of bed and forced herself to shake off the jet lag. She got on a red double decker bus, which took her to all of London's most famous sights. Trafalgar Square. The Tower of London. The London Eye. She wished she had a camera, since she would have loved to take some pictures. Unfortunately, she left her camera—and many other nonessential items—at Kyle's house.

  “My camera phone!” she shouted, her sudden exclamation earning her a dubious glance from an old biddy. She took out her phone and took a few blurry pictures of St. Paul's Cathedral, a domed church that looked a bit similar to the U.S. Capitol Building. At least, that's what Zoe thought.

  Then her thoughts wandered to Kyle, as they often did. What was he doing at that moment? Did he miss her? Would he go crawling back to Cynthia? Stop thinking about him, she silently chided herself. The less she thought about him, the less she missed him. And she certainly didn't want to miss him.

  The sightseeing bus ended its voyage near her hotel, and she headed back. Her time as a tourist, short as it was, was at an end. This wasn't a leisure trip.

  She needed to find employment, and she already had something in mind.

  * * *

  When she arrived at her destination in Oxfordshire, she thought about turning around and heading back to the hotel. It was a mansion, complete with a fountain, trimmed hedges, and a resplendent garden. It looked like the sort of mansion in which a British lord would reside, like Pemberley in her beloved Pride & Prejudice. There was no way they would hire her.

  And yet, wasn't she just as qualified as anyone? She didn't travel two hours from London just to tuck her tail between her legs and flee. She owed it to herself to give it a shot.

  When she knocked on the front door, she half-expected to be greeted by a butler. However, it was the lady of the house who answered the door, and she regarded Zoe as if she was a carrier of the plague. The woman looked like she was around Zoe's age, perhaps a few years older. She had short, dyed, cherry red hair, tight lips, and a beak-like nose.

  “Uh... hi.” When the woman didn't say anything, Zoe spoke up. “I'm here about the nanny job.”

  “Oh. Right.” The woman turned her head and shouted over her shoulder. “LEWIS, THERE'S ANOTHER NANNY HERE!”

  “I hope I didn't come at a bad time,” Zoe said, as politely as possible. Every time she opened her mouth, she felt like she was representing all Americans, which made her even more determined to make a good impression. “The paper didn't say anything about a specific time of arrival, so--”

  “It's fine,” the woman said, stepping out of the doorway. “Come in.”

  “I'm Zoe.”

  “Alright.” Was it Zoe's imagination, or had the woman rolled her eyes?

  “What's your name?”

  “Gemma.”

  “Gemma,” Zoe repeated. “That's a pretty name.”

  “I hate it.”

  “Oh. Well... okay.” How was she supposed to reply to something like that?

  When Zoe stepped into the lavish foyer, butterflies sprang to life in her stomach. The marble floor was so shiny, it looked like she was stepping on glass. A chandelier, dripping with diamonds, sparkled on the ceiling. There was an enormous portrait on the wall of a dapper man with bushy brown mutton chops. Zoe couldn't picture herself working in a place like this. It was beyond anything she had imagined.

  “So, Zoe. When did you--”

  Before Gemma could finish asking her question, a man entered the foyer. He was impossibly tall, with light brown hair, deep-set eyes, and a strong jaw. As soon as he laid eyes on Zoe, he smirked. “You must be the new nanny candidate?”

  “Yep. That's me.” Yep?! Did she really just say yep? She wanted to sound professional, not like a high school girl. “I'm Zoe.”

  She held out her hand, and he gave it a firm shake. “An American,” he noted. “That's interesting.”

  “Or I could be a Canadian.”

  The man raised an eyebrow. “Are you a Canadian?”

  “No.” />
  “Then I was correct.” The man's gaze was unwavering. He had a grin on his lips, slightly amused and slightly wicked. “My name is Lewis, by the way. Lewis Eastham.”

  “Nice to meet you.”

  “And I take it you've already met my wife.” With a snort, he added, “my lovely wife.”

  Gemma shot her husband a look that could kill. “Trust me, he doesn't think I'm lovely.”

  “Of course you're lovely, darling.” Lewis tried to lean in for a kiss, but Gemma dodged it. “Isn't she a sweetheart?”

  “Are you talking about me... or Zoe?”

  “You, Gemma, you.” Lewis leaned toward Zoe and whispered in her ear, “Although, I'm sure you'll soon find out she's not sweet at all. Not in the least.”

  Zoe was tongue-tied. She had been standing in the foyer for all of two minutes, and she was already feeling uncomfortable. “So, uh...” She gave the back of her neck a nervous scratch. “Is there going to be an interview?”

  “Ah. Yes. Of course.” Lewis nodded. “Why don't you follow me into the sitting room? Gemma, you can come too...if you'd like to. Of course, you don't have to...”

  “Oh, I'm sure you'd LOVE it if I didn't come!” Gemma snarled at him. “Do I need to remind you that this is OUR decision, not just yours?”

  “Follow me,” Lewis said, ignoring his wife's complaint. He motioned for Zoe to follow—which she did, albeit a bit reluctantly. When they arrived at their destination, he held open the door for her. An interior designer obviously had a hand in decorating the sitting room, which smelled like leather and cigarettes.

  “Sit,” he ordered. So she sat. Lewis turned to his wife and said, “why don't you offer her some refreshments? Like a proper hostess?”

  “And why don't you focus on your questions... like a proper employer?” Gemma countered. “I'm not your maid, Lewis.”

  The smirk never left his face, and Zoe got the impression that bantering with his wife was something he relished in. “Alright, Chloe...”

  “Zoe,” she politely corrected him.

  “Zoe,” he amended. “You think you would be a good nanny for our son?”

  “I do! I love children... even though I don't have any of my own.”

  “You might love children now, but you haven't met our son,” Lewis remarked. “I'm sure he'll change your mind.”

  Zoe took a deep breath. The boy's parents had her feeling so unnerved, she was tempted to get up and leave. But she needed this job. Badly. “Uh... until last week, I was a kindergarten teacher, so I have experience in dealing with children. I have experience in planning activities, teaching, and--”

  “You don't need to teach him anything,” Gemma interrupted. “He's a very smart boy, practically a genius for his age. And he goes to one of the best schools in the country.”

  “O-of course,” Zoe said, a bit taken aback. “And how old is he?”

  “Eight.”

  “Great.” Zoe smiled, hoping to warm Gemma's cool disposition with a friendly gesture. Her bright red hair didn't seem to match her personality. So far, Gemma had proven herself to be completely and utterly humorless.

  “How long have you been in England?” Lewis asked.

  “Just a few days.”

  “And do you like it here?”

  “Oh yes! I do! It's a beautiful country!”

  “If you don't mind me asking, why did you decide to move to Britain?”

  “Ahem!” his wife interrupted again. “I don't see how these questions have any relevance whatsoever! Why don't you ask something that actually pertains to being a nanny?”

  “Gemmaaaa,” Lewis moaned. “Why don't you hush up and let me conduct my interview in peace?”

  “But you're asking questions that have nothing to do with her experience with children! How is that relevant?”

  “Would you like to conduct this interview? You think you could do a better job than me?” Gemma didn't reply. She just crossed her arms and sneered at him.

  “At any rate...” Lewis continued. Despite his wife's complaints, he ventured into inappropriate territory once again. “Are you married, Zoe?”

  “Uh... no.”

  “And why not? An attractive young woman like you--”

  “LEWIS!” Gemma screamed.

  Lewis' eyes danced with amusement. It was almost as if he enjoyed being railed at. “And Zoe... you do realize you would be a live-in nanny, yes?” He waited for Zoe's nod, then he added, “and that means Gemma would have access to you twenty-four hours a day, which is liable to drive you mad.”

  Zoe started to reply, but she clapped her mouth shut. No matter what she said, she knew she would end up offending one of them. She felt like she was caught in the middle of a battle between a warring husband and wife.

  “Well then, Zoe... if you don't mind, my wife and I need a moment to deliberate. If you would step outside...?”

  Zoe raised an eyebrow. That was it?! She didn't know if the lack of questions was a good sign or a bad sign.

  “Is that it?!” Gemma shrieked, echoing Zoe's thoughts. “How can you base your decision on so little information?! It's preposterous!”

  “I know all I need to know, Gemma. The rest would be a waste of time.”

  Zoe got up. “I'll... wait in the hallway.” She grabbed her purse and left the room as quickly as possible. Little did she know, Lewis' eyes were fastened on her rear end as she fled. He studied the sway of her hips, and it gave him secret pleasure.

  As soon as she was out the door, Zoe felt the tension drain from her shoulders, like air from a balloon. She couldn't remember the last time she had been more tense, or been more uncomfortable. It was the shortest interview in the world, but she was glad it was over.

  The husband and wife continued their verbal sparring match; Zoe could hear them through the door. She pressed her ear against the wood and held her breath.

  “I like her,” Lewis said.

  “Well, OF COURSE you like her. That much is obvious,” Gemma snarled at him. “And predictable.”

  “And of course you wouldn't like her, seeing as you're jealous of anyone with a pair of breasts,” Lewis countered.

  Gemma inhaled sharply. “How dare you say that to me!?”

  There was a moment of silence. Either that, or Zoe couldn't hear what was being said.

  “I'll not have that... that American watching over my son!” Gemma barked. “She looks like a hussy!”

  Zoe looked down the length of her body, wondering how in the world she could be perceived as a hussy. Her hair was swept into a loose ponytail, and she was wearing her favorite cardigan—a fuzzy yellow cardigan buttoned all the way to her chin.

  Did she need the job badly enough to endure this sort of baseless criticism? If she got the job, would the wife keep hating her for no reason whatsoever?

  “But I can't go back home,” Zoe whispered to herself. “Everyone will think I failed...”

  And Zoe was terrified of failure. It was bad enough that her wedding was a failure. If—and it was a big IF—Lewis wanted to hire her, could she stomach being the nanny long enough to find employment elsewhere? She didn't want her British excursion to end up being a waste of money. Now that she was unemployed, it wasn't as if she had money to waste.

  “It isn't your decision to make. I'll hire whomever I'd like.”

  “How is it NOT my decision? I'm his mother!”

  All of a sudden, a voice behind her asked, “Enjoying the show?”

  Zoe spun around and clasped a hand over her heart. There was a young man standing behind her. He was even taller than Lewis, so she had to crane her neck to see his face.

  “Uh... h-hi,” she sputtered.

  “Hello,” he greeted her. “You were eavesdropping, I take it?”

  He looked adorable, with soft blonde hair, chiseled cheekbones, and puffy pink lips. The wavy ends of his hair curled across his forehead, as if each strand had been meticulously placed. As angelic as he was, it was easy to imagine a pair of ivory wings emerg
ing from his back. He was insanely cute, but much too young for Zoe.

  “I-I wasn't eavesdropping!” she disagreed.

  “Suctioned against the wall... ear pressed to the door,” the young man chuckled. “It certainly looked like you were eavesdropping to me!”

  “Well... I wasn't!”

  “Then what were you doing? Checking for termites?” His blonde eyebrows leapt to his forehead in amusement. “Don't worry. I won't tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me.”

  “What secret?!” Zoe exclaimed. Without another word, the nosy blonde Brit turned around and started walking down the hall. Except he wasn't walking—he was strutting. In all her life, she had never seen such a cocky swagger. “Hey, wait!”

  He turned around and winked at her.

  Then he was gone. She was left wondering who he was. Did he work for the Easthams? The gardener, perhaps? For some reason, she couldn't picture his delicate face hunched over the ground as he toiled in the earth.

  A few minutes later, the door opened, and Lewis popped out in the hallway. “Never mind my wife. Her verbal reprimands are a daily occurrence.”

  “She... seemed nice.”

  Her lie was so blatant, Lewis had to laugh. “Anyway, I've decided to give you the job.”

  A voice in the back of Zoe's head whispered oh no. She was afraid of that! “Um... wow. Thanks.”

  “We had two other candidates awhile back, but they were old... too old, too severe. You know the type. They would stifle the life out of you. I don't think Chris would be too happy.”

  “Chris?”

  “My son,” Lewis said. “Clearly.”

  Clearly. Was she wrong to think that word was a bit snarky? “Well... I look forward to meeting him.”

  “Does that mean you accept the job?”