by Baird, Ginny
Ventura stared down at Richard’s business card in a sweat. For three weeks, she’d been pounding the pavement, cold-calling, and applying online, and so far she’d had only two meager interviews, neither of which had panned out. It was impossible to believe that with a graduate degree she couldn’t even land a secretarial job, but in this competitive market, that was how it seemed. And now, she was running out of money.
She pulled a tissue from the box on the table to dab her damp forehead and too-hot neck. Since theirs was a basement apartment, Nanette didn’t believe air-conditioning was warranted. But by mid-June in Washington, even basement apartments were broiling hot. Not that Ventura blamed Nanette for pinching pennies. She basically lived on a widow’s pension supplemented by her meager rental income. Though this place was stretching her thin, it was far less expensive than any other place Ventura might rent on her own. And what she’d lost in privacy, she’d gained in a special new friend. It seemed she and Mary became closer every day. If only Ventura were gainfully employed, she’d feel better about things. As it was, she was having to be extra careful about finances.
She’d tried to gloss over it, but Mary appeared to have picked up on it just the same. Just last night she’d offered to pay their tab for Zen’s Chinese Take-Out, supposedly in celebration of receiving her first big paycheck. Inwardly, Ventura knew Mary was being kind. Ventura was getting to the point where she could no longer afford take-out food. Things were getting desperate. If there were another way, she’d seize it. But the only other way Ventura could see at the moment involved giving up on her dreams entirely and moving back home. And home wasn’t a place where Ventura was necessarily welcome. Her mom had sold the big house and moved into a condo, which basically accommodated her and her half-time, live-in boyfriend, along with his gigantic, drool-happy dog.
Ventura took a long sip of water, then set down the bottle, preparing to dial. She hoped to find a way to sound casual about it and not present herself as being quite as desperate as she was. She couldn’t chance giving Richard the idea that there was something wrong with her. She’d at least need to secure an interview to have a shot at the job. She punched in Richard’s number and fidgeted nervously with her scrawled-on legal pad as the phone rang two, then three times… In case he didn’t answer, she’d written down precisely what she would say to his voice-mail box.
“Richard Blake,” he answered in an even clip that sounded ultraprofessional.
Ventura stared hard at her legal pad, and all sense of reason flew out the window. “Um…”
“Is someone there?” he asked seriously.
“Yes! Hello. This is Ventura Hart.”
He paused a beat, then answered, “Ventura, hi. How nice to hear from you. How’s the job hunt going?”
“Not so well,” she answered honestly.
“I’m”—he hesitated a moment before finishing—“sorry.”
“Yes, well. You know how it is.”
“Very competitive market.”
“Exactly.”
“Not that you’re not extremely qualified.”
“Thanks.”
“I’ve been asking around.”
“You have?”
“The only problem is, I didn’t have a way to contact you.”
Ventura drew a hopeful breath. “You mean, you’ve heard of something? In journalism?”
“No,” he said quickly. “Not exactly. But I’ve been keeping my ears open.”
“That’s good of you.”
“Yes.”
“Well, you have my number now.”
“It’s on my caller ID,” he agreed.
“Which may come in handy.”
“How so?”
“Should”—Ventura gathered her nerve and squeezed shut her eyes—“you need to call me for interview?”
“Interview?”
Ventura drew a breath and let it out, counting to twenty-five.
“Ventura? Are you still there?”
“I’d like to apply for the position,” she told him firmly.
“The nanny job?” he asked with surprise.
“If you’ll still have me.”
“It’s yours!” he proclaimed with delight.
“Whhh…what did you say?”
“I said, you’re hired, Ventura. When can you start?”
“But don’t I need to interview? Meet the kids?”
“Formalities. We’ll arrange all that. Doesn’t have to be in any certain order.”
“I see.” Ventura swallowed hard, wondering what she was getting herself into. How bad were those children if he hadn’t found help for them already? Ventura tried to reassure herself, thinking Richard was probably just picky as any good daddy would be. That made him admirable, didn’t it?
“It would super if you could swing by on Monday. You can meet the kids and Jason, and we’ll get everything set up.”
“Jason?”
“He’s my personal assistant and a really great guy. You’ll have no worries. Jason will teach you everything you need to learn in getting started. Now, all I need is your address. I’ll have him come and pick you up.”
Ventura set down her cell in a daze as Mary entered the kitchen.
“What’s up?” Mary asked her. “You look a little weird.”
“I’ve just been hired.”
“That’s awesome!” Mary walked over and slapped her a high-five. “Where?”
“At Richard’s.”
“You took the nanny job?”
Ventura nodded, still dumbstruck. It had all happened so fast she could scarcely believe it herself.
“When do you start?”
“On Monday.”
“That’s great! We’ll have to celebrate.”
“Did I hear someone say celebrate?” Nanette asked, tottering down the stairs in platform sandals.
Ventura and Mary shared frightened looks.
“What a wonderful coincidence that is! My cousin Frank has a nice young nephew in town.” Ventura’s mouth hung open as Mary grimaced, seconds before Nanette appeared in a poodle skirt and tiny tank top. “He and his friend Charles are Capitol Hill interns. Imagine that. We’re practically neighbors.”
“Imagine,” Mary said, blinking at Ventura.
“Trying not to,” Ventura said under her breath.
Nanette studied them both with an affectionate grin. “Naturally, I told Frank you’d show the boys around.”
Cherry trees and dogwoods lined the Tidal Basin reflecting the Jefferson Memorial as the sun rose high above the water. Ventura and Mary shared a paddleboat as two toned blonds, Charles and Wally, commandeered another. The guys smiled and waved, tipping their visors in the girls’ direction.
Ventura stared at them in awe. “I have to hand it to Nanette. This time, she didn’t mess up.”
“I know. Amazing. Right?” Mary grinned and waved back. “Which one do you like best?”
“They’re both really cute.”
“You choose.”
Just then, Ventura spotted a hunky, dark-haired man strolling along the path with two gorgeous children in tow, a boy and a girl who both looked to be about five years old. The man moved with confidence and the easy grace of a guy in charge of himself, not to mention his rock-hard body. “I’ll take him,” she said a bit wistfully.
Mary gripped her arm and whispered, “Oh my gosh, Ventura. It’s him.”
“Who?”
“Richard!”
Ventura lowered her prescription sunglasses to get a clearer view, seeing Mary was right. It was Richard, no doubt, dressed in khaki slacks and a crisp white polo, buying his two adorable children ice cream from a kiosk vendor.
“You’ve got it made in the shade working for that dude.”
“Can’t beat the view,” Ventura said with a sigh.
“Do you think he sees us?”
“No, and let’s keep it that way. When I meet his kids on Monday, I want to present myself professionally.”
As they spoke,
Wally and Charles drew their boat up beside them. “You girls about ready for our picnic?”
Ventura scanned the shore to spy Richard and his kids nowhere in sight. “Sounds fine.”
“I’m starved,” Mary agreed.
Charles gave Ventura a warm smile. “Great. Let’s head back to the dock, then, and throw a blanket down somewhere.”
“So much for our choosing,” Mary said as they turned their boat around.
“What do you mean?” Ventura asked her.
“I think Charles has a thing for you.”
“Really?” Ventura asked, fingering her flat-ironed hair.
“You do look dynamite in those short shorts.”
Ventura studied her thighs and the way they pudged out sideways on the seat of the boat. “They might be a bit too short.”
“No way! You, girlfriend, look smoking hot. And don’t think someone hasn’t noticed,” she said, angling her chin at the boat up ahead as Charles kept trying to sneak peeks at Ventura over his shoulder.
Before she knew it, they were back at the dock and the boys had already disembarked. “Here,” Charles said to Ventura, playing the gentleman, “give me your hand.”
Ventura stood unsteadily as the small craft rocked. Taking his hand was probably a good idea. It was going to be a little tricky climbing out of here, especially in these thigh-high shorts and with—-what?—Richard walking right toward her! Ventura made a sudden shift, and her wet sneaker squeaked on the boat’s bottom.
“Ventura!” Charles urged, extending his arm “Here!”
But all she could see was Richard, with his unbelievably dark eyes and incredibly sexy smile, striding in her direction. She reached for Charles’s hand but missed it just as Richard’s surprised gaze settled on hers.
“Ventura!” he called, rushing forth as she stepped off the boat and sank like a stone in the water. In the split second before her life vest bobbed her back up, Ventura’s whole life flashed before her.
She felt herself spiraling down…down into the cold, her hair swirling around her like strings of seaweed. This was it—her life’s most embarrassing moment, and she was going to die from it besides. Get sucked right down into the murky depths of the Tidal Basin where she could meet the ghosts of her great political forefathers: Jefferson, Lincoln, Kennedy… Who else was memorialized around here? Hang on one second! It wasn’t about to be her! She held her breath and stretched up her arms, kicking and flailing her way to the surface as her life vest lifted her heavenward. She was nearly there when two strong hands grabbed her wrists and pulled her into the light. Ventura gasped for air, sucking in a deep breath.
“Are you all right?”
She looked up at the man holding on to her as the others crowded in with worried faces.
“I…think so,” she said with a cough.
Richard heaved a sigh of relief and smiled down at her. “Let me help you out of there.”
He bent low to assist her as Ventura pressed her hands to the dock and hoisted herself out of the water. Ventura crossed her arms in front of her chest and stood there dripping. Her hair was a tangled mess, and her sunglasses dangled from where they’d been caught up in her necklace.
“Thank you,” she told Richard as his two children stared at her agape.
“Do you know her?” the boy asked his dad with undisguised horror.
“Ricky, Elisa,” Richard said, grinning broadly. “I’d like you to meet Ventura, your new nanny.”
Little Elisa threw her head back with a wail that could be heard for miles around. “Noooooo!”
Chapter Five
The following Monday morning, Jason drove Ventura past the US Capitol building and toward the Washington Monument, before crossing the bridge that would lead them to Old Town Alexandria. The glistening waters of the Potomac sparkled below as sailboats with colorful spinnakers drifted by. An occasional motorboat tore across the waves, revving its engine and kicking up a wake.
“Richard wanted me to apologize for the way his kids behaved on Saturday,” Jason offered with a genial sideways glance.
“I’m sure I was a shock to them.”
“Still, they went a little overboard.” Such a PR man. Ventura wondered what Richard paid him but ventured it had to be in the high five figures. “I haven’t heard of them behaving that way for a couple of nannies now.”
“A couple?” Ventura asked in shock. “How many have there been?”
Jason set his jaw and peered through the windshield. “Oh, six… No, seven.”
“Oh!”
“Since January, I mean.” He turned briefly to face her, then set his eyes back on the road. “Altogether there’ve been fifteen.”
“Fifteen?” Ventura swallowed hard. “And how old are the children?”
“The twins just turned five.”
Ventura divided quickly, figuring that was an average of three nannies a year! And math wasn’t even her strength.
“Don’t worry,” Jason said, seeming to read her mind. “It’s not nearly as bad as you think. Richard’s only been on his own for three years.”
They drove down cobblestone streets, passing crowds of shoppers and a guitar-strumming street musician huddled up against a curio shop. Before long, Jason steered the car into a narrow parallel parking spot before a quaint white-bricked townhome, complete with flowering window boxes and a wrought iron front gate.
Two children bounded out the door as Ventura cautiously exited the car.
“Ventura!” little Ricky said, racing toward her. “You came!”
Elisa shot her a shy grin and raced after her brother.
Maybe this wasn’t going to be as bad as she’d thought. Kids were kids, after all. And these were mighty cute ones.
Ricky threw his arms around her with a hug. Ventura stooped low to embrace him, and he sweetly patted her head. “We’re so glad you’re here.”
Elisa silently stood by and nodded.
“Why, thanks, Ricky.” She hugged him back, puzzled at the rapid turn of events. Perhaps Richard had talked to them and warned them to mind their manners.
“Ventura,” Richard said, emerging from the door. “You made it.”
She straightened her spine and smoothed her hair, which was as silky as satin by now. While she opted to weary it curly most days, she now employed a deep conditioner that gave her soft ringlets instead of frizz. She was also getting used to wearing her contacts and had decided Mary was right. She did look better without the glasses. More importantly, she felt better too. Ventura didn’t know when it was that she’d completely given up on her appearance. Though perhaps it was more accurate to say, she’d never paid that much attention to it. Now that she was starting to, things seemed to be coming together for her. It was like she was developing confidence in herself as a woman for the very first time.
“It was a nice drive,” Ventura said, flipping back her hair. She twitched suddenly, sensing something was amiss. Why did the top of her head itch like something was on it? She raised her hand to her crown, then squealed in horror. “What is it?” she yelped as Ricky and Elisa giggled, scampering away. She thrust her fingers into her hair and encountered a tiny solid object. Please, she prayed plucking it free, don’t let it be alive. And when she examined it in the sunlight, she saw that it wasn’t. It was merely a little plastic spider, the kind used to decorate cupcakes at Halloween.
“The kids must like you,” Richard told her. “With the others, the spiders were real.”
When they entered the house, Ricky ran through the hall chasing Elisa, who held a squishy, bug-eyed toad. “Blinkie! She’s got my Blinkie!” Ricky cried with dismay.
“Elisa! Ricky!” Richard warned. The kids skittered across polished hardwood floors, then tore up the steps. “Slow down! Somebody’s going to get hurt!”
Ventura turned to Jason. “I don’t suppose it’s a plastic frog?”
Just then, Elisa catapulted something from the top of the stairs. She’d raced up them, taking them two at a ti
me, paces ahead of Ricky and her father.
Ventura stared down in horror as something landed at her feet with a sprong! The life-like toad split open, exposing electronic inner workings, tiny springs, and torn wires.
“Looks like another trip to the cyber-pet shop,” Jason quipped.
He disappeared for a moment, then returned with a broom and dustpan. “Your first clean-up mission,” Jason said, handing it to Ventura. She looked down at the mess before her, her stomach churning at the thought she’d imagined this thing to be real.
“I need to talk to the kids,” Richard said, excusing himself.
Two hours later, Richard sat at his large modern desk. A new cyber toad croaked and bounced about in its cage beside his laptop computer. None of her studies had prepared Ventura for a day this wild. The house was a maze, the kids were a mess, and expectations for the nanny were exponential. Richard handed over two hefty day-planners and Ventura squirmed in her chair.
“The yellow one’s Elisa’s. Purple is for Ricky.”
Ventura stared at him astounded. “These are their schedules?”
“Hard copies. Naturally, we’ve got e-files. I’ll have Jason upload them to your smart phone.”
“Um.”
“You do have a smart phone?”
Ventura reached in her purse and extracted her antiquated cell, the kind that came with the most basic plan. And that was six years ago.
“No worries.” Richard shot her a soothing smile, and Ventura’s heart stilled. How she wished he wouldn’t do that. Smile at her in that super hot way that made her wish they were out on a date rather than discussing her business duties. Ventura bit her bottom lip, hoping that thought hadn’t been written all over her face. But maybe it had been. Because at this very moment, Richard had stopped talking and was gazing intently into her eyes. She wondered if he sensed it too, this secret pull between them. Or perhaps it wasn’t mutual at all, and there was no pull—only her overworked imagination futilely tugging.
Richard seemed to snap himself out of it, picking up on his earlier thought. “We’ll work all that out. You’ll definitely need high-tech communication to be part of our team.” Ventura thought of her decrepit old laptop but didn’t mention it. “I’ll get Jason to set you up with a new phone tomorrow.”