by Jenny Hale
She arrived right on time and had to stifle a smile as she saw Adam standing at the front of the lot, his coat pulled up around his chin, his breath billowing out in front of him, talking on his cell phone. One step at a time, she thought.
He looked like something out of a magazine, and she couldn’t believe how in the world, looking like he did, he was still single. As she parked the car, she thought how similar they were. He was still single for the same reason that she was still single—they both worked all the time.
“There’s your daddy,” she said, turning off the engine.
“I can’t wait to get at tree!” Olivia said. David sat quietly, his eyes on his father. His face was curious, watching, as if he were taking in every one of Adam’s movements. Carrie could tell that David was like a little adult himself, and if he were just given the opportunity, he’d probably want to spend every minute with his daddy. Her mind was spinning with ways to facilitate that scenario.
She opened the car door and helped the kids unbuckle themselves. They hopped out, and she quickly assessed the parking lot, worried they’d run to Adam, but they didn’t. They stood right with her, and she noticed again what little bond they had with their father. Adam had looked their way and finished his call, sliding his phone into his pocket. He put up a hand and waved at them. In the sunlight, she noticed that his hair had strands of bronze like Olivia’s, and his face was even more striking when he wasn’t exhausted. She took the children’s hands on either side of her and walked across the parking lot.
“Hi,” she said as they neared Adam.
“Hello.” He had his hands in the pockets of his coat.
He had a quality about him that made her want to walk with him, take her time, get to know him better, but she was there for one purpose: to get the children with their father. “There are a lot of trees here,” she said for the kids’ benefit. “We may want to split up. David, why don’t you go with your daddy, and Olivia and I will go to the other side. We’ll each find a tree and compare them. How does that sound?”
David was still watching his father, a hesitant look on his face. Then, without warning, he leaned toward Carrie and whispered, “I want to go with you too.” He moved closer to Carrie, putting a giant gap between the three of them and Adam.
Carrie had made the suggestion, hoping to give David a little time with his dad, to give them a chance to enjoy each other, and it had just backfired terribly. She could feel the splotches climbing up her neck as she looked over at Adam. How must it feel to have a son who would rather be with his nanny than with his own father? Even given the situation, it had to hurt at least a little. She searched his face, worry swelling up in her stomach, but if it had hurt him, he hid it well. His smile was gone, but his face was pleasant.
“Why don’t we go together?” he suggested. “We have enough time to find a tree, even if we don’t split up. Plus, Carrie knows what would look best in the house.”
“Okay,” she said, glad that she’d have some time with him, and that the atmosphere was still friendly and happy for the most part. They started walking into the rows of spruce trees, all tied to posts, their branches dusted with snow. Big, buzzing white light bulbs hung from tree post to tree post, their light masked by the bright sun. Despite the clear weather, the temperature outside was so cold that the snow hadn’t moved. It still blanketed the field, contrasting with the green of the trees and the blue of the sky. Carrie ran her hand down one of the trees, its short needles springing into place from under her palm, sending a tiny puff of snow down to the ground.
“Do you want a fat tree or a skinny one?” she asked David.
“A big fat one,” he smiled, his dimple showing on his cheek. “That will give us room for more presents!” he giggled.
Carrie thought about this comment. As of now, David didn’t have any presents because Adam hadn’t bought any—and unbeknownst to him, she wasn’t going to do it. Did Adam even know what his children liked? Did he know what would make them gasp and squeal with joy on Christmas morning? She had a lot of work ahead of her if she was going to get him to buy the presents. At this point, it seemed daunting, and she felt a twinge of worry that she wouldn’t be able to accomplish such a task. She worried, too, about the children. What would their Christmas be like if they opened a bunch of gifts that they hadn’t asked for? What if Santa didn’t come? Didn’t Adam realize that he only had a handful of years where the magic was there? And then it would be gone. Forever. He’d never get that magic back. If she didn’t work fast, his children would grow up and look back on their childhood never knowing that kind of magic.
She remembered Christmases with her own parents, how it felt to unwrap that one gift that had been at the top of her list. She remembered the security in the knowledge that her parents had known exactly what to get her. Until adulthood, she’d taken their generosity for granted. She didn’t realize, as a child, how much the gesture really meant. Her parents had looked long and hard to find the very things—down to the right color or model—that she’d put on her list. They’d done it because they loved her. If Carrie bought the children gifts, what would that tell them about Adam? What would they think of his love? Would it be absent in their minds?
Adam was kind and gentle, and she knew that deep down he loved his kids too. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t have worked so hard to get a top nanny, he wouldn’t have made sure that they had everything they needed, he wouldn’t have met them today. Perhaps he just didn’t know how to show that love. Clearly, being the Founder and CEO of Shockoe Brewery—she’d noticed on his letterhead—he knew how to run things. She’d read on the computer last night how his beer was shipped state-wide, and he had a very successful restaurant and brewery. By the ease in which he offered his credit card, things were unquestionably going well for him. Maybe he was like her in that he stuck to what he did best—running the brewery—and let everything else flounder. Maybe he wasn’t as sure of himself when it came to his personal life. Maybe he didn’t trust his instincts. She could certainly relate.
“What presents would you like for Christmas, David?” she asked.
Olivia had run ahead, and was bent over, her scarf now out of her jacket, dragging the ground as she peered under a tree. “There’s not much room under this one,” she called back to them and then ran a little farther up the lot to check another.
“I’d like a racecar set,” David said. Carrie took a mental note.
“Oh, that sounds fun, David,” she smiled. “If you get one, may I play with it too?” David nodded, a grin emerging through his serious expression. Carrie stopped in front of a perfectly shaped tree that stood taller than Adam, and looked it up and down. “What about this one?” she asked, looking at Adam for his opinion.
He shrugged. “I’m sure you’re better at knowing what would work in the house than I am,” he said with that grin of his. “Get whatever you like.”
His cheeks were pink from the cold. Carrie wanted to put her hands on them and warm them up. The thought surprised her, and she quickly turned away from him and looked at the tree. Handsome as he was, she hadn’t until that very moment contemplated what it would be like to comfort him or touch him. Just like her nerves, she thought for the millionth time, she’d better get over it if she wanted to work for him day in and day out. She couldn’t be having thoughts like that. When she had finally cleared the notion from her mind, she looked back at him, and his eyes met hers. He was looking at her almost curiously, and she worried that he could read her mind. Why was he looking at her that way? It was making her nervous. She tried to take a deep breath and let it out like her book had said, but it was difficult to do it in a way that he wouldn’t notice.
Adam’s phone rang in his pocket, slashing through the moment. He turned to answer it, and Carrie finally managed to take that breath. The children were hiding behind trees, giggling, knocking into them and causing snow to puff out in the sunlight, falling to the ground like glitter.
“Andy…” he sa
id, taking a step away, his back to her. He was quiet, listening, and she watched him pacing, spots of wetness beginning to show on his high-dollar shoes. “If we go that route, I’m going to need a cost analysis. I can’t make that type of decision without some sort of discussion. Have you asked the team?” His back was still to her, but his pacing had brought him closer, and she tried to occupy herself with looking at the tree so as not to eavesdrop. “Shall we meet tonight and discuss it over a drink?”
She immediately thought about how late that would put Adam getting home tonight, and the disappointment of that hit her harder than it should. Instead of coming home, he’d be out having a drink. She found herself becoming oddly jealous of this Andy, wishing she, too, could go out for a drink and have a night out with adults. Her imagination started to run wild, and, all of a sudden, worry burned right through the cold on her cheeks. Andy. The heat spread down her neck as the thought occurred to her: What if Andy was a woman? Adam was having drinks to discuss work, but it was still drinks he was having. That seemed like more than a discussion at the office. She imagined a tall, striking woman in heels and the kind of dress that Carrie had never owned, a cocktail in her hand, her head tipping back in laughter at something Adam said. Yes, that would be more like the type of person he’d probably go out with. She looked down at her jeans and coat, her striped gloves and scarf, thinking how casual she looked. It made her feel small and insignificant.
Carrie looked at the tree she’d found. It was perfect in every way, but with nothing on it, it looked empty and lonesome. As the children ran through the lot, their laughter rising into the air, Adam walking away from her again, she felt very plain and alone, like that tree. There she was, having personal thoughts about her employer, trying to meddle in his life, making him suppers. Was she living in some fantasy world? Of course she was. She needed to grow up, get a real life, and move on. Adam Fletcher was not the kind of person she needed to be thinking about. She needed to take a good look at the college brochures she had and sort something out for after Christmas. As much as she wanted to be with children and remain a nanny, Carrie needed to move forward with her life. She knew that now more than ever.
The cold had made its way through her layers, and she was certain that the kids were probably cold too. As soon as Adam was off the phone, she was going to tell him to just buy the tree in front of her. It was a fine tree, and clearly, he needed to get back to work.
Adam let out a long sigh. “I’m going to be working late anyway to make up for the time I’ve lost today,” he said quietly into the phone. “Let’s just make it a night, shall we? You pick the place.” Still talking on the phone, he pulled out his wallet and handed Carrie his credit card, distracted by his discussion and barely making eye contact.
With that one gesture, she felt in the way, and she wished that she hadn’t bothered to ask him to help them get a tree. She imagined that this was how David and Olivia must feel. Again, he’d dismissed her actions as if they meant nothing, and that was probably true. Last time, she’d been frustrated, irritated by his behavior, but this time, her feelings were hurt. This time, he’d completely upset her. She could feel the heat still on her skin despite the cold, and she was glad for her scarf because it would hide the red spots that were now burning her neck. She’d only been trying to get him involved with his family, feel the Christmas spirit a little, but it was apparent that she had been wrong. Who was she kidding? She wasn’t going to fix his family. She wasn’t going to get him to know what presents to get his kids. Swallowing the lump in her throat that was forming from the way he was making her feel at that moment, she took the card from his hand and went to gather the children.
Chapter Eight
Label your bad habits and eliminate them. Carrie underlined the sentence and marked the page with a bookmark. In her journal, she listed her first bad habit: meddling in people’s business, her employer’s family business, to be precise. After the Christmas tree fiasco, there was no way she was ever going to put herself in that position again. She’d care for the children and show them love, but she wasn’t going to intervene anymore. Adam had made it quite clear by his actions where his family fell on his list of priorities: they were at the very bottom.
Not to mention the way it had made her feel when he’d just dismissed her, handing out his credit card with barely a glance in her direction. She couldn’t help thinking that he was missing the point of life. He had a lot of money and very nice things, but he didn’t enjoy any of them. He came in after dark, ate, and went to bed alone. He never sat in his living room and enjoyed a good book or had a nice talk over a long dinner. He didn’t sit back and watch his children play, knowing that every second was gone the moment it happened, and he’d never get it back. He couldn’t enjoy himself. Had he ever? The four days he’d taken off for Christmas should be interesting, she thought.
Carrie tried to see it from his side, and the more she thought about it, the more she realized that she was just spinning her wheels; she hadn’t gotten anywhere with him. He’d seen the trip as just another tick on his list—Get Christmas tree: done. It had not been about spending time with his children at all. And the worst part was that their outing had given the kids yet one more time when their daddy hadn’t made a difference in their lives. He was as absent standing there as he would’ve been at work. Carrie could have just as easily bought the tree herself. She had a sinking feeling, given the way the children acted around him, that it was always this way.
The trouble was that she genuinely liked Adam. He was friendly, usually, and seemed like a nice guy in general. She was rational enough not to expect anything more, but her instincts told her she knew he was capable of more, and that’s what upset her. Did his children ever get to see the look of affection in his eyes when he smiled, the feeling that they were the only ones in the room? Did they know that he was kind?
She thought about all those little moments she’d had with her own dad: The back-yard barbeques when he made smiley faces with ketchup on her burgers and sneaked her soda when her mother wasn’t looking. The Saturday mornings when she’d jumped onto his back while he lay in bed sleeping, and he’d spin around from a sound sleep and become the Sleeping Bed Monster, tossing her into the air. The quiet days when he read the newspaper next to her while she read her favorite Nancy Drew book. None of those were life-shattering events, but collectively, they painted a picture of love that she couldn’t have had otherwise.
This problem was too big for her to solve, and while she wanted to fix it, she knew she was meddling in someone else’s life, and that wasn’t her place. It went against everything she felt in her heart, but she decided she wouldn’t try and orchestrate another meeting like that because all it did was paint him in a worse light, and she didn’t want any more unfavorable memories for the children.
Carrie and the children had decorated the tree today. It had taken all her strength to get it inside, but she’d insisted to Adam that she could manage, knowing he was already in a huff about work and was wearing his work clothes. It was clear that he didn’t like the idea of leaving her to get the tree, but obviously in a rush, he complied, telling her to leave it on the porch if it was too heavy and he’d get it tonight. She’d smiled, the lump in her throat still there but hidden. It had taken three refusals, but he finally relented and went back to work. She’d wobbled the tree into the house, the children attempting to help her, David claiming to hold the most weight, and they’d worked together to get it into the base. Olivia filled it with water after Carrie finally secured it.
David had been in charge of the lights, and he’d dutifully bunched them all down at the bottom. She’d stretched them up to the top of the tree, saying that she wanted to give him enough space to put more lights, and when they were finished, the tree sparkled, the white lights glistening off the window panes. Olivia put on all the ornaments, opting for the ones with the most glitter first. With the angel on top and the deep cranberry-colored tree skirt at the bottom, it sen
t a glow around the room. Carrie finally felt like it was Christmas. She hoped that the kids felt it too.
And now, she waited—with white lights glistening up the greenery on the banister at the front door, the candles in the windows, snow collecting again on the ground outside, the glow of the tree, and the peppermint scent in the air from the candle she’d bought—she waited with no one to enjoy it but her. It was nearly nine o’clock at night, and Adam wasn’t home. He was probably still having drinks with Andy, discussing things Carrie couldn’t ever talk about with him because she worked with children and not in the corporate world. The house seemed so big when she was alone. She wondered why Adam had such a large house in the first place. He had very nice things, but he didn’t seem the type to be showy with his money, and he was never there. Not even late at night. She looked back toward the garage door. Silence.
Her supper plate sat empty in front of her, the food long gone. She’d had supper by herself, and she couldn’t help but think how that had been her fault for asking him to get the tree. She’d pushed all his work back, and now he was working instead of being home in the warm atmosphere that she’d created. Again, while she felt guilty, he’d made her feel like what she was doing and who she was as a person was trivial to him. If he couldn’t even understand her, how could anyone else? No one understood what it was like to have a life that was work twenty-four hours a day. None of her friends understood. Adam should understand, but, clearly, caring for children didn’t hold the importance to him that his job did. As annoyed as she was with him, she’d liked it when he came home the last two days—those evenings were the one time she had when she could be with another adult. His quiet and controlled nature calmed her. She felt sad—the what-am-I-doing-with-my-life kind of sad. Her life was a mess, and she knew it.