Masquerade: a romantic comedy

by Janette Rallison

  After all, Clarissa was a trained professional. During her family science classes she’d studied Piaget, Brazelton, Skinner, Freud, and James Jones. She knew about developmental needs, motivation, consequences, the subconscious, boundaries, and a myriad of complexes. She had years of experience in child care and the experts on her side.

  Now she bent down until she was eye level with her charge and asked cheerfully, “Are you ready to play with us?”

  Bella glanced around the room, taking in Elaina, who sat at the coffee table sleepily chomping on pieces of french toast. “I want to go swimming.”

  “Maybe we’ll do that later then.”

  “Why can’t we go now?”

  “Because we just ate, and we don’t want to get cramps.” Okay, Clarissa told herself, I’m thirty seconds into this day, and I’ve already reverted to an old wives’ tale. Next I’ll be telling her the stork brings babies and if she steps on a crack her mother will be doomed to a life of chiropractic care. But Clarissa didn’t want to tell Bella the real reason they weren’t going outside right now, which was that Clarissa felt she had to get some ground rules down, inside, before they faced another crowd. Bella needed to understand that Clarissa was in charge and that consequences would follow if Bella didn’t obey. Last night, as far as Clarissa could tell, Slade hadn’t even reprimanded Bella for running away. Clarissa didn’t want a repeat of that performance.

  In the same cheerful voice Clarissa asked, “Would you like to color while Elaina eats breakfast?”

  Bella ignored Clarissa’s question and went and stood beside Elaina. “Are you done yet, ’Laina?”

  Elaina shook her head, then slowly lifted another forkful of syrup-drenched french toast to her mouth.

  “Are you done now?” Bella asked.

  Clarissa tried to curb the questioning. “Bella, we’re going to play inside for an hour or so. Then if the two of you are good, we can go to the pool.”

  “I want to go to the ocean and look for sharks.”

  “We’ll try the kiddy pool first.”

  Bella’s brows knitted together, and she frowned at Clarissa. “You’re ’posed to be playing with me.”

  “I’d be happy to play some inside games.”

  Bella crossed her arms tightly. “I want to go to the ocean.”

  “I understand that,” Clarissa said. “Nevertheless the answer is no.”

  Tears sprung immediately to Bella’s eyes. Her face almost seemed to scrunch into itself, and she let out a low wail of, “You’re not playing with me!”

  Clarissa tried to reason with her for a moment longer. Bella’s wails only got louder and more shrill. In between her “I want to see the waves right now!” and “I’m telling my dad that you’re not nice!” she also added “My daddy can make people disappear!”

  How nice for him. Along with being a movie star and a screenwriter, he was also a magician. Life must be easy for someone with so many talents.

  Holding tightly onto the last vestige of her cheerfulness, Clarissa scooped up Bella, sat her down on the desk chair, and called over the din, “You can get off of the chair when you’re quiet.”

  Clarissa then walked over to the coffee table and wiped Elaina’s face and hands off with a wet napkin. Elaina sat, wide-eyed and unblinking, staring at Bella. She was quite done with her breakfast now and clearly wondered what horrible thing would happen next.

  “Bella just needs to learn she can’t always have her way,” Clarissa told her daughter softly. “Let’s look at a book while we wait for her to calm down.”

  Elaina allowed Clarissa to propel her to the couch, still keeping her gaze fixed on Bella. Clarissa picked up a book filled with farm animals and set it on her lap. For half an hour she made animal noises in an attempt to ignore Bella’s screams, which rose by octaves as time progressed. Any moment now, they would shatter glass.

  If this were to go on for much longer, the hotel staff would probably call to see who was being tortured. Perhaps the security guards were even now on their way to the room—or worse yet, Slade himself might be striding down the hallway.

  And what would Slade do if he found out that his daughter had sat screaming on a chair all morning? Perhaps for her job’s sake, she ought to take Bella off the chair, go directly to the beach, and decide that if Slade wanted to teach Bella discipline, he could do it himself. Clarissa wasn’t her parent. Clarissa just got paid to keep Bella happy while Slade worked.

  Clarissa glanced over at Bella and then at the hotel room door. If they left now, they could reach the beach in ten minutes. Ten minutes to quiet, happiness, and job security.

  But even as she thought about it, Clarissa knew she couldn’t give in. She couldn’t let Bella get her way by screaming. Bella had already had a succession of revolving caregivers, and someone, somewhere along the line, had to be firm with this child. If for no one else’s sake, for Bella herself.

  Clarissa shut her eyes, remembering the text she’d studied on the subject. Somewhere in those pages were the tools she needed. The experts, the men with the doctorate degrees, she reached out to them.

  Skinner: yes, he said behavioral extinction takes time. Sometimes a lot of time. Jones said a parent couldn’t control a child’s behavior, just the consequences that followed. So she was on the right track. And Freud: he said repressed anxiety needed psychotherapy. Well, rather than go into dream analysis, Clarissa would ignore Freud. It had been her standard practice during her years of studying family science.

  She took a pack of cards from the table and said in an overly-loud voice to Elaina, “Why don’t we play a game of Go Fish while we wait for Bella to calm down?”

  Bella’s voice dropped to a low whine, and in between broken sobs, she asked, “Can we go to the beach if I calm down?”

  Clarissa shuffled the deck of cards. Without looking at Bella, she dealt them out into three stacks. “If you calm down, you can get off the chair and play cards with us. Then later on we can go to the swimming pool.”

  Bella crossed her arms over the chair back and buried her head in her arms. From underneath her mass of curls she moaned, “I’m telling my daddy I want you to go away.”

  Clarissa handed one stack of cards to Elaina, then picked up her own hand and arranged the cards. “I understand that you’re angry with me.”

  Bella continued to lie half flung over the back of the chair, muttering things into her arms. Clarissa supposed it was quiet enough to count as “calmed down” and softly called to her, “Would you like to play Go Fish with Elaina and me now?”

  Bella lifted her head, looked at the cards, and then sniffed. Clarissa expected the little girl to snarl “no” and turn away. Instead, Bella slipped from the chair, went to the third stack of cards, and plopped down in front of them.

  “Can I go first?” she asked.

  “That would be fine,” Clarissa said, and then, while Bella arranged her cards, Clarissa let out a slow breath. It was only one hurdle, she knew, but it felt like success to have cleared it.

  After three rounds of Go Fish, four storybooks, and two trips to the bathroom, Clarissa decided she was ready for an outing at the pool with Bella.

  But to be certain, she decided to take along Piaget, Brazelton, Skinner, and Jones anyway. Freud would undoubtedly bring his id and tag along too. That was the thing about Freud. Once he popped up, it was hard to get rid of him.

  Clarissa gathered up towels, sunblock, snacks, toys, keys, the cell phone, and basically anything and everything else she could think of that might come in handy at the pool, then put it all in a big plastic beach bag.

  Bella looked like a fairy princess in her swimsuit. It was covered in ribbons and ruffles—no doubt created by some fashionable boutique on Rodeo Drive. Elaina, although less conspicuous, also looked darling in a pink-checked suit with small white ruffles. Clarissa looked considerably less darling in her old blue suit. As she slipped the straps over her shoulders, she noticed some snags in the material she hadn’t seen before, and
the elastic sagged a little around one of the legs.

  She had meant to buy a new one last summer, perhaps even the summer before that, but every time she spent money, it led to a fight with Alex. And so finally she just stopped buying herself anything. Since the divorce, she hadn’t had the means to buy such frivolities as swimming suits. Not when Elaina needed so many things.

  Clarissa took one last depressing look at herself in the mirror, then tossed her white terry cloth robe into the beach bag. It was short and thin and could pass for a swimming suit cover-up.

  As they walked to the kiddy pool, Clarissa told the girls several times that whether or not they went to the beach depended on how well they minded her at the pool. Bella, in her haste to play, only half listened. She skipped all the way there, stopping every few feet to turn around and call “Come on. I can see it!”

  A large clover-shaped pool with a fountain spraying up in the middle spread out in back of the resort. The kiddy pool lay right beside it. It was also a large pool, with fountains tossing water in different directions and a slide shaped like a sunken ship.

  As they weaved through the sunbathers, Clarissa said, “Remember, I’m responsible for you, and the first time you even go near the big pool, we’re done swimming, and we’ll go back to our rooms for naps.”

  “I don’t take naps anymore,” Bella said.

  “You will if you go near the big pool,” Clarissa told her.

  Neither child seemed especially worried about her threats. Without looking back at her, they both ran, squealing, into the fountains.

  Clarissa tossed their towels on a patio table, pulled a beach chair closer to the pool, and sat down to watch the girls. Bella had no fear of anything. She jumped from one fountain to the next, then slid down the slide with hands raised, reaching to take hold of the sky. Elaina eyed everything cautiously. She tried something new only after she saw Bella do it first.

  Clarissa wished her daughter were more confident. Had Alex’s criticism made Elaina this way—cautious and insecure?

  After Clarissa watched the girls for about twenty minutes, a middle-aged woman sat down in the chair next to her. The woman’s dark hair was pulled back in a bun and wrapped in a brightly-colored tropical scarf that matched her skirted swimsuit. She trained a red lipsticked smile on Clarissa. “It’s a beautiful day to sit out at the pool, isn’t it?”

  “Yes, it’s gorgeous out.” Clarissa vaguely wondered why the woman had come to the kiddy pool. She looked too old to be the mother of any of the children tromping about in the water, but then sometimes women had children late in life, and other times they were early grandmothers.

  “Of course, kids don’t care what kind of day it is so long as they can play,” the woman said. “Mine always liked the rain as much as the sunshine. Rain made mud, and that, as you know, is great fun.”

  Clarissa nodded. “And fun to clean up after too.”

  The woman gazed out over the pool. “Which children are yours?”

  “The one coming down the slide and the one . . .” Clarissa searched for a moment to find Bella. “And the one sitting on that fountain.”

  “Two girls. How sweet. Are they twins?”

  “No, I’m just tending the fountain-sitter.”

  The lipstick smile grew. “Well, that’s a generous thing to do while on your vacation. I hope her parents appreciate it.”

  “I’m being paid to do it,” Clarissa said. “I’m here as a nanny.”

  “Oh, a nanny.” The woman turned her gaze back on Bella. “I had a friend who nannied years ago. It didn’t work out very well for her. The boy she watched was a terror, and the parents were impossible to deal with.” The woman shook her head. “I’m afraid most nannies are vastly underappreciated. It’s a hard job.”

  It has been so far, Clarissa thought, but she didn’t say it. When Clarissa didn’t comment, the woman went on. “Of course, you’re watching a girl, and they’re not half the terrors boys are.”

  “I don’t know,” Clarissa said. “I imagine Bella could take on anyone for that title.”

  The woman laughed lightly and stretched her legs out a bit farther. “Oh? Does she give you trouble?”

  Clarissa didn’t answer right away. She suddenly felt pangs of disloyalty for saying what she had.

  Skinner: Labels damage a child’s self-esteem.

  Jones: Bella needs positive reinforcement.

  Freud: Your subconscious is trying to assert itself independently of your ego.

  When you came right down to it, Freud didn’t make a lot of sense.

  Clarissa shrugged. “I imagine all children, both boys and girls, come with their own amount of trouble. I’m just happy I can work and still have my daughter with me.”

  The woman turned her gaze to Elaina. “Yes,” she said slowly. “That is wonderful. Some employers wouldn’t allow it. Yours must be fond of you.”

  Not really. “He’s a very nice man,” Clarissa said.

  The woman leaned in a bit closer. “How lucky for you that you get along. How much time do you spend together?”

  Before she could answer, a booming voice came from behind her. “Sylvia! Yes, I thought that was you. How are you doing?”

  Clarissa turned around and saw Landon striding toward them. He wore a pair of khaki swimming trunks and had a towel draped around his neck. His hair was wet, and water droplets glistened all over his tanned body, as though he had just stepped out of the pool and hadn’t had a chance to dry off yet.

  Sylvia slipped the sunglasses from her face and smiled up at him. “I’m fine, Landon. And I don’t need to ask you. I can tell you’re doing wonderfully.”

  Landon sat down on the other side of Sylvia and gave Clarissa a forced smile. “I see you’ve met Sylvia Stanfield. She’s one of the reporters for The Scoop magazine.”

  Clarissa didn’t say anything. She shut her eyes and gulped. A reporter. She’d been talking to a reporter—something her employment contract specifically stated she could not do. But it wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t known. And she hadn’t said anything bad. Well, except that Bella could compete with anyone for the title of “Terror.”

  Clarissa laid her head back against the chair and gulped again. Slade was not going to be understanding about this.

  Sylvia’s attention turned to Landon, and she didn’t seem to notice Clarissa’s discomfort. She tapped her sunglasses against Landon’s leg with an air of familiarity. “When are you going to let me interview you for The Scoop? I’ve always wanted to do you, you know.”

  Landon’s smile was still forced. “Oh, I think your magazine has already done me quite a few times. The last time I read it, I learned I was secretly engaged to half a dozen showgirls and in drug rehab all at the same time.”

  Sylvia didn’t even wince. She leaned toward Landon and grinned. “Consider it your opportunity to set the record straight.”

  Landon’s gaze traveled back to Clarissa. His voice was still light, and yet felt heavy to her. “Is that what you were doing talking to Slade’s nanny? Getting the record straight?”

  Sylvia glanced back at Clarissa as if only now remembering she sat beside her. “We were just passing the time. Friendly chitchat. That’s all. Weren’t we, dear?”

  “Bella is a lovely child,” Clarissa said quickly, “and Slade is only nice to me in a professional sort of way.”

  “Yes, of course, dear,” Sylvia said.

  Landon rolled his eyes, but before Sylvia turned back to him, he put on his smile again. In a low voice, as though he and Sylvia were conspirators, he said, “Don’t use anything Slade’s nanny said in your magazine. Slade likes to keep his family life private. I’d hate to see her in trouble, since I’m the one who got her the job as nanny.”

  Sylvia tilted her head a bit, seeming every bit as surprised as Clarissa was by this information. “You’re in the nanny business now?”

  “No. Slade needed a nanny, and . . .” Landon hesitated only a moment before he came up with her name. “Clari
ssa is a friend of mine, so I hooked them up with one another.” Landon leaned forward and put one tanned hand on Sylvia’s not-so-tan knee. “How about this: You forget you talked to Clarissa, and I’ll buy you lunch. While we eat, you can interview me to your heart’s content.”

  Sylvia’s smile grew so wide it seemed to cut her face in half. “I’ll take you up on that offer, and I happen to be famished right now.”

  “Great,” Landon said. “Let’s go see what the hotel is serving.”

  They both got up, and Sylvia didn’t even give Clarissa another glance as they walked away from the pool. That was all right, though. The look Landon shot her was enough.

  For quite some time Clarissa sat in the chair, limply watching the girls splash around while she chastised herself.

  She should have known better. Well, okay, she wasn’t sure how she should have known better, but she should have. She was in a different world now, a world where words—where the mere innuendo of words—was a dangerous thing. She couldn’t forget that again. If needs be, she’d take up sign language and pretend to be mute . . . that was, if she actually had a job after this afternoon.

  Chapter 11

  A little after eleven Slade called Clarissa, asked where she was, and then said he would join her. He hung up without say much else. Which was probably for the best. If he’d asked, “How did things go this morning?” she would have had to tell him something. At least this way she could tell him in person his daughter had spent half the morning screaming and threatening to get her fired. And then Clarissa could mention that she’d told a reporter that Bella was a terror and at this moment, Landon was out having lunch with the woman to rectify the situation.

  This wasn’t going to be a good afternoon. She didn’t want to face Slade right now.

  As she put her phone back into her bag, she noticed the snags in her bathing suit again. And she especially didn’t want to face Slade wearing this beat-up old bathing suit. She pulled her robe out of her bag. If she was going to be fired, she should do it with as much dignity as possible.