You'll Never Nanny in This Town Again: The True Adventures of a Hollywood Nanny

by Suzanne Hansen

  Nolan was inquisitive and loved exploring, and he reveled in digging through the Tupperware drawer, banging wooden blocks, and ripping up magazines. Debra said it was great that his name started with the word no, because she didn’t like the thought of saying no to him. She wanted him to have a “yes” attitude toward life. So she said his name worked well because if we accidentally started to correct him, we could say, “No-No-No-lan.”

  I had been hired primarily to give Debra time off at night so she could rest and spend nearly the entire day with Nolan. But we soon found that when I tried to take care of him at night, he only wanted his mom. We gave in, not wanting to upset him. So Debra took the night shift. And the day shift. On the rare occasions that I did take Nolan for walks, Debra wanted to come as well. I spent my days mostly talking to the cook in the kitchen, folding Nolan’s tiny clothes in his dresser, and generally trying to help Debra around the house.

  But I was beginning to feel like a third wheel on a bicycle.

  One afternoon, the three of us went to a park in Malibu. I put Nolan in one of the swings and pushed him gently, and he began to giggle. Debra giggled, too, and climbed into one of the “adult” swings. She kicked off her shoes and began thrusting her legs into the air to gain momentum. Just then an older man walked up to us and said, “Hello, Debra.”

  I glanced over. Jack Lemmon! Wearing shorts, a golf shirt, and tennis shoes. Though he was getting up there in years, I recognized him right away because I had seen The Odd Couple, one of my dad’s favorite movies, about twenty times. When Debra introduced us, I gulped before shaking his hand and smiling. I thought I was over my celebrity shock, but apparently not.

  “Can I buy you two a falafel?” he asked.

  I was too embarrassed to say I didn’t know what a falafel was, so in unison, Debra and I said, “Yes. Thank you.” I just hoped and prayed that whatever the thing was, it didn’t have mushrooms on it.

  As I munched my odd concoction, which appeared to be the Arabian equivalent of a taco, I glanced around at the hordes of mommies and nannies. Parks were a popular place for moms to go “steal” other people’s nannies. You could find someone by the merry-go-round and avoid paying a hefty commission to a placement agency, and there were plenty of women living in five-million-dollar homes who thought nothing of heading out to the swings for a day of stalking. I mean, who wouldn’t want to save a thousand dollars on something as unimportant as the person who would be spending more time with your child than you would?

  It would be years before the real stalkers came along, before the paparazzi peered out from behind the jungle gym with any sort of regularity. The day would come, though, when media-savvy celebrities would station themselves and their adorable offspring by the sandbox, angling toward the lenses as if to reassure the public that they were regular parents. They, too, got their knees dirty! Photos of the stars and their adorable offspring playing in the park or shopping for organic produce would run almost weekly in People. Undeniable proof that they were just average working moms—except that they had two assistants, an accountant to pay their bills, a housekeeper at each home, a chef to cook Zone-perfect meals, and a personal yoga instructor.

  Yep, just a typical family.

  Suddenly I spotted someone I recognized. “Oh my God,” I leaned over to Debra and whispered. “That’s Michael’s brother’s wife. What do I do?”

  “Just act like you’re having the time of your life.” She laughed. Of course Debra would find this amusing.

  The woman walked toward the swings with her son. Closer to us. I gulped.

  “Hello, Linda,” I said as casually as I could.

  “Oh, uh, hi, Suzy,” she said awkwardly. “What are you doing here?”

  “Oh, I work for Debra now.” I pointed and smiled. “You know her, don’t you?”

  What else could I say—How ’bout those Lakers? I knew she’d heard plenty about my resignation. What would she tell her sister-in-law?

  “Umm, of course,” Linda mumbled, nodding at Debra, and then she left as fast as she could. She was probably going to break her ankle running to her car to relay the news that I was now working for the original mutineer from the CAA ship.

  I voiced my fears to Debra, and I could anticipate her response even as I was telling her. For the second time that day, we spoke in unison: “So what?”

  So what! So what! So what! A new mantra. As long as I could remember it, Michael and Judy had no control over me. I was voting for myself, starting now.

  Just weeks ago it had been far too painful to hear Delma describe how Brandon wandered hopefully in and out of my old bedroom, but I finally thought I was ready for another update.

  “Oh, Suzy, it’s you!” Delma exclaimed when I called. “You should hear how they’re talking about you around here.”

  “What are they saying?” Why was my stomach suddenly churning?

  “Judy and Grandma Ovitz are saying bad things because you are working for Miss Winger,” she whispered. “I can’t tell you the horrible things they said.”

  I didn’t really want to know, anyway. I could just imagine. She left us high and dry to work for a traitor!

  “Amanda has had me try and call you many times at your sister’s, but there’s no answer.”

  That figured; Amanda could only call during the day, when Michael and Judy were out, and everyone was at work then. My heart sank. On the one hand, I was happy that Amanda wanted to talk to me, but on the other, that meant she did in fact miss me. It hurt to know that I was another loss in her short lifetime. I gave Delma the number of the new phone I had installed in my bedroom at Debra’s.

  “Delma, how’s Joshua?” I asked, switching topics.

  “You know, Josh is Josh. He will always be the same.” Neither Delma nor Carmen understood the reason he was so difficult, and I hadn’t helped matters. In a way, I had confirmed his belief that if you start to love someone, they leave. And now that I was banned from ever seeing the children, there was no way to show him that I did still care about him and that I saw more in him than a defiant little boy. As far as he knew, I never loved him enough to ever call or visit.

  Then the conversation took a turn for the better.

  “Would you like to see Brandon?” Delma blurted out of nowhere.

  “Oh God, I’d love to!”

  “They just left for Aspen last night. I could sneak him out and meet you at the park. Carmen will stay with Joshua and Amanda, so they won’t know,” she said in a conspiratorial tone. I couldn’t imagine what Michael would do if he ever found out that Delma sneaked his son out to see me.

  “He hasn’t been himself since you left,” Delma continued. “He’s walking now, but he still seems so sad. It would do him good to see you.”

  “Don’t tell me any more, Delma. Please,” I managed to get out. I missed him so much that my throat constricted as I tried to hold back tears. As much as I wanted to see him, I didn’t know if I could do it. No matter how long the visit, I’d just have to leave him again. I paused and caught my breath.

  “Let’s do it,” I said emphatically.

  I met them the next afternoon in the park where I had often taken Brandon. I gently glided in a swing, waiting, anticipating. Then I spotted Delma’s car, parking in a far lot.

  I could see that she was telling Brandon I was here by the way she whispered to him and pointed to me. Sweet little guy. So cute. So innocent. He craned his head up, looked around, and finally saw me. I stood up. He toddled off across the grassy field straight for me. He threw his little arms around me and squeezed me with all his strength, not uttering a sound.

  My heart felt like it would collapse in on itself, aching, yet joyful. How could it be possible to feel all these things so strongly at once? I had guessed it would be hard, but I had never had an inkling of the reality. I squatted there, holding him for a long time. When I pulled away slightly to look at his beaming face, I had to quickly wipe my eyes so I could see clearly.

  Delma and I embra
ced silently.

  “Suzy, I didn’t tell you, but I’m the nanny now,” she confessed. “When you left, Judy asked me if I wanted to quit doing the housework and start taking care of the kids. I jumped at the chance. I knew it would make you happy.

  “Plus I get to wear regular clothes now!” she beamed. “I don’t think she likes it, but I told her that the other nannies didn’t have to wear a uniform.”

  “Oh, Delma.” I hugged her. “That makes me feel so much better—for both of you.”

  I was grateful Delma had brought me some of my mail. She said she had begged Judy to stop sending all my mail back, saying that she could take it to me. But apparently Judy didn’t like that idea. She had been marking everything, bills and bank statements, with “return to sender.”

  I hoisted Brandon into a swing as Delma and I kept chatting. Knowing someone he trusted and loved was his nanny made me feel so much better. He wouldn’t have yet another person coming into and then leaving his life. And even though Joshua had always been hostile to Delma, even more than he was with me, I was glad he, too, didn’t have another new person he felt he had to put his guard up against. This was the best situation possible for all three of the children. Maybe I didn’t need to feel so guilty anymore.

  But was I in the best situation?

  The scene at the park really tore me up. I loved that little guy so much. And even though I wasn’t paid to worry about him anymore, I still had a big emptiness in my heart. I almost felt like I was holding myself back from giving Nolan the love he deserved because I didn’t want to go through another gut-wrenching departure. Maybe I should give some serious consideration to moving home.

  Delma and I arranged a few more clandestine meetings, but I could feel that Brandon’s memories of me were slipping away. I was happy he was bonding with Delma. It would be best for me to duck out. I thought of what a woman at one of the placement agencies had told me, that some Hollywood mothers were so paranoid that their children would become more bonded to the nanny than to them that they changed nannies every year, regardless of how good a job they were doing or how much their children liked them.

  How could anyone be so cruel?

  The third-wheel feeling grew, and eventually I couldn’t ignore the fact that Debra didn’t need me at all. Once I accepted that, I started feeling really guilty about the great salary I’d negotiated. Just when I’d decided to say something, Debra came to me and said that she realized that she didn’t really need help with Nolan, especially full-time. She said she just wasn’t the kind of mom who would give time with her child away to someone else just because she was paying for it. Relieved, I confessed how awful I felt for taking so much money for so little work. Debra said not to worry about it, but she thought it would be best if she went to visit Tim in Baton Rouge with the housekeeper, who could serve as a backup babysitter if needed. No entourage of trainer, makeup artist, psychic, chef, masseuse, and hairstylist for this movie-star mom.

  “I liked you as soon as I met you, Suzy,” Debra said. “The karma of living with yet another castoff was great. Don’t worry; I’ll be happy to give you a good reference. Actually, why don’t you stay here while I’m visiting Tim in Louisiana? You can take the time to find a new job.”

  So I did, luxuriating in the quiet of the house for two full weeks. I checked in with Tammy, perhaps the happiest woman to ever hold the title of nanny. Every single time we chatted, she told me how great it was to be working for Sally and Alan. During our last conversation, she’d been all excited because her name was going to appear in Cosmopolitan magazine, in an article on Sally. When I wasn’t overwhelmed with envy, I loved her upbeat attitude.

  “Hi, Tammy, what’s the latest with you? Go on, share with me your latest tale of nanny bliss,” I joked. “I can take it.” I braced myself, anyway.

  “I got to fly on the Concorde,” she said joyfully. “I brought some pictures back for you.”

  “Of what?”

  “I took a whole roll of film of the interior of the plane. Every time Sally and Goldie turned their backs, I took a picture. I wanted to send some to my mom to show her what it looked like. I even took a photo of the hors d’oeuvres. I’ve never seen butter in the shape of a swan!”

  “Silly girl, don’t feel bad. In Hawaii I took a picture of my room-service cart. I felt like a knight at the round table; there were so many silver serving trays. Even my pizza had one of those huge covers you see in the movies, and it came with cloth napkins.” We both laughed.

  “Yeah, our idea of fancy dining was hanging out at Pinocchio’s pizza parlor after football games,” Tammy said. “I miss the times we had there.”

  “And I really miss the pizza,” I said wistfully.

  “Oops, gotta go,” Tammy said abruptly. “Sally and I are off to go shopping.”

  “Great! Have a wonderful time!” I replied with forced cheer. It was time to hang up, anyway. As much as I hated to admit it, her experience grated on my nerves. If I had to hear one more thing about Tammy’s wonderful life, I was going to have to borrow one of Nolan’s pacifiers to soothe myself.

  By the time Debra and Nolan flew back to LA, I still hadn’t decided what the next episode of my Hollywood career would be. I wasn’t sure I even wanted another role as a nanny. But I had to go somewhere, so I moved back to my sister’s Brentwood box. Five, sometimes six of us, crammed ourselves and our stuff into that tiny five-hundred-square-foot space. She didn’t have a closet big enough for me to fit in, so I just used a sleeping bag.

  I was confused and lonely and instinctively reached out for Ryan. We’d been talking frequently since we’d gotten “back together,” and I finally asked him if he wanted to come for a visit. He was more than happy to come to LA to lend moral support. He got the couch.

  Why do I feel compelled to stay and take another nanny position in LA? I know I don’t ever want to get attached to any children like I did with Amanda, Josh, and Brandon. But I have to get some sort of job; I need money for my car payment. I should have taken the SATs when I had a chance.

  The percentage of working mothers is very high, and they end up with two weeks off a year to be with their children. They don’t have help. I don’t know how they do it. So I certainly cannot complain.

  —Demi Moore

  chapter 20

  get shorty

  Living like a sardine motivated me to get serious about finding a new job, pronto. I quickly revised my résumé to reflect my stint at Debra’s. I couldn’t stop the nagging voice in my head, though. What if Michael still wouldn’t give me a good reference? For most people in this town, Debra’s word wouldn’t trump his.

  I called the placement coordinator at Malibu Mommies, but the openings they had were farther away from Cindy. I wanted to be close to her in case I did get some evenings off, so I decided to keep searching. Driving to a new placement agency I’d found in the phone book, I tried to stay positive. Ryan, who had thus far spent his days soaking up the California sunshine, rode along.

  This agency was named after the founder, Beatrice Dart. It occurred to me that the same woman who greeted me had probably opened the original doors sometime back in the sixties. The room smelled as musty as she looked. I introduced myself and sat down, sliding my résumé over to Beatrice, who peered at it over a pair of granny glasses perched on the end of her nose.

  “Hmm,” she muttered after giving it only a cursory glance. “I think I might have someone for you right away. Sit down over there,” she said, motioning to a waiting area without ever looking at me. She buried her nose in a Rolodex and dialed an ancient black rotary phone, which had probably been installed the same day she opened.

  “Hello. This is Beatrice down at Beatrice Dart’s,” she said.

  Silence.

  “I think I have someone for that position you called me about.… Yes, uh … let me check.” She stood up, scrutinized me, and went back to the phone. “Yes, she’s attractive. What? Oh, can you hold a moment?” she said, cupping her hand ove
r the mouthpiece.

  What was she going to say now? On second thought, she’s not drop-dead gorgeous, so your husband probably won’t make a pass at her like he did with the last girl I sent you.

  “Can you go over to Paramount Studios right now, dear?”

  “Uh, yes … yes,” I stammered. “I suppose so. How far away is it?” She didn’t answer me.

  “Okay then, right away.” With that she banged the phone down.

  She handed me a slip of paper with directions and a name. R something, something, Pe something, something, something. Set of chairs. Poor old Beatrice’s handwriting reminded me of a doctor scrawling out prescriptions. Completely illegible. Was I going to be a nanny or a furniture mover? Maybe Beatrice hadn’t spent enough time reading my résumé. She did look nearly eighty. Perhaps she was placing me as a domestic house manager?

  “Ms. Dart,” I ventured. “Uh, I can’t quite read what you’ve written. Does this say set of chairs?”

  “No, dear.” She laughed and coughed. “It says, set of Cheers—you know, Cheers the TV show.”

  Cheers? Oh, Cheers!

  “You’re going to talk to Rhea Perlman, my dear. Don’t worry. The studio isn’t far. I’ll show you how to get there.”

  Oooh. I’d never been on a studio lot or on a sitcom set. (Well, except for the time Cindy and I got tickets to a Dolly Parton special and we got to wait in the green room with Patti LaBelle’s family.) Sure, I knew that it was probably a waste of time. Beatrice hadn’t even checked my references, and obviously the person whom she was talking to hadn’t asked. Once I mentioned my little problem, I knew I wouldn’t get a second interview. But maybe I’d try to enjoy the Hollywood glamour for what it was.

  Suddenly I remembered the hayseed sitting in my car. Who would have known that Beatrice would send me on an interview that day? There was no way I was going to drive onto the Paramount lot with Ryan in the car. To be honest, he was the kind of guy who looks a lot better in his own habitat. Did I mention that he was a fourth-generation lumberjack? His rugged good looks and casual style belonged in a small logging town, not Southern California. Ryan truly believed that ain’t was an actual word, because they used it on his favorite show, The Dukes of Hazzard. (He prided himself that people often remarked that he looked just like Bo Duke.) This—and many other things—drove me crazy. I always wanted to change him. This is what happened every time we got back together. I realized I loved him in a “can’t live with ’em but how am I ever going to get over him” kind of way. Why I didn’t just leave the poor guy alone, let him live his life and forget about things like trying to convince him that the WWF wasn’t real, I will never know.