by Sal Conte
With Shay watching the kids, she went to Google and discovered Ionic is a framework for building mobile applications. Aha! She found a website with a guide for building HTML5 mobile apps, and began boning up.
She had a week to learn enough about Ionic to talk herself through an interview.
Things were looking up.
Chapter Six
She’d been living under their roof for five days now, and Peter had done everything he could to never be in her presence.
He purposely came down to breakfast late so he had just enough time to wolf down a slice of toast before heading off to the office. He worked later than he needed to, even though Molly continually extolled him to go home.
You need to spend time with your family.
Yet once he was at home for the night, he couldn’t avoid her. He was forced to be in close quarters with her as she told Robbie a bedtime story, or he’d find her in the nursery when he snuck in to kiss Dinah goodnight.
To Kim’s credit, she never tried anything. Their conversation was small-talk.
Did you have a nice day at the office?
Yes.
Is your case going well?
Yes.
It’s a wonderful thing you’re doing, defending the defenseless.
Yes.
He refused to allow her to draw him out.
This went on for several days. Fortunately, Emma was none the wiser. Her head was mostly buried in the computer, or a book, boning up for the job interview. She had no idea how hard he was working to stay away from Kim… err… Shay.
Monday was a particularly rough day at the office. They got word that their co-councils at the Death Row Project felt they needed more substance to their argument. It was a setback, and to keep things moving forward in a timely manner, they needed to work another late night. Molly insisted they work from his home office.
“You’re spending too much time away from your family. You should always be home to kiss your children goodnight,” she counseled.
He couldn’t agree more.
*
They brought in takeout from Wolfgang’s so they could go straight to Peter’s home office and work. No stopping off at the kitchen where Peter might run into Kim/Shay.
Molly and Peter holed up in his office for several hours working on the brief.
“What do you think?” Peter said, reading through it for what felt like the thousandth time.
“I think we need a break,” Molly said. She leaned back in her chair. “We need to clear our heads.”
“Just a little bit more, and we can quit for the night.”
“If you want to go on that’s fine, but I need a break. I’m going to make some coffee,” Molly said. She looked him in the eye.
“Yeah. You’re right. Break time!” he said with a smile.
Molly started from the room, then stopped when she realized he hadn’t moved. “Aren’t you coming with me?”
“I’m good. I’ll be here when you get back,” Peter replied. He looked down at the stack of pages on the desk in front of him.
“For a man who claims to love his family so much, you spend an awful lot of time away from them.”
Food for thought.
*
Molly eased shut the office door—Peter insisted they keep it closed—and moved down the hall to the kitchen. The Hathaways lived in a nice-sized, well-kept home. She knew they could afford more, but Peter was unpretentious. She liked that about him. She enjoyed coming there, even though they spent most of their time in the office.
When she entered the kitchen, she was surprised to find a woman at the fridge—more than surprised, she was shocked. She knew the Hathaways had hired a nanny, had been hearing about her for weeks now. Surely, this stunning creature could not be her.
“Hello,” she said.
Shay looked up. She had baby bottles in her hand. She had gorgeous blue eyes. Her short hair was perfectly styled, not a hair out of place.
“Oh, hi. You must be Molly,” she said. There was kindness about her eyes.
“Yes,” said Molly, still taken with young girl’s beauty. “Are you the—”
“Shay. I’ve heard a lot about you.”
“I’ve heard about you, too,” said Molly smiling. “I hear you’ve got Robbie wrapped around your little finger.”
Molly couldn’t help but wonder if the attractive young woman was trying to get someone else wrapped around her finger. She’d seen it before, read about it in the gossip rags. It happened to celebrities and movie stars all the time: Cute, young nanny steals husband. It probably happened even more in the real world.
“Oh, I see you two have met,” Emma said, entering the kitchen. She was wearing dowdy sweats. Her hair was a mess. Not good.
“Yes, we have,” said Shay. “Well, I need to get back to Dinah. Nice meeting you,” she added. She threw a brief smile in Molly’s direction, and left the room.
“What are you doing?” Molly practically screeched as soon as Shay was out of earshot. “Is that the nanny?”
“Yes. She’s wonderful,” said Emma. She moved to the coffee maker, and poured herself a cup. Black. “I have some more of those cookies you like so much.” She started for the pantry.
“Sweetie,” Molly said, stopping her. She moved in closer, and lowered her voice. “Never hire a nanny who’s young and beautiful. You’ve heard the stories. Do you want to become a statistic?”
Emma laughed. “Peter hardly notices Shay. He avoids her every chance he gets. Peter only has eyes for Horace Booker.”
“That’s good for now. But what about those late nights when you’re at the office, and he’s alone at home with her?”
“I don’t even have a job yet.” Emma said, laughing it off.
“You will, Sweetie. And when you do, you’d better keep a close eye on that one.” She cast an accusing eye toward the doorway to drive her point home.
“I trust my husband,” Emma said, her tone turning defiant, and Molly could tell it was time to back off.
“Of course you do.”
*
Emma may not have seen the threat, but Molly did. She started back to the office. Peter was waiting. They had work to do. She tried telling herself that maybe she was wrong. The young girl didn’t act like a threat. She definitely wasn’t wearing anything provocative.
That’s how they steal them, with innocence.
She knew she should head back, but something pulled her down the hall, past the office, to the nursery.
Shay was sitting in the rocker, singing to the baby when she arrived.
She had a lovely voice. The lights in the room had been dimmed to induce sleep. Shay’s sweet lullaby drifted up to her from the shadows.
“Hi, there,” Molly said softly. She stepped inside. “So this is the nursery. As many times as I’ve been to this house, I’ve never been in this room.”
Shay stopped singing. The room went quiet. She could hear the baby breathing rhythmically, sound asleep.
“He’s taken, you know.” Shay’s voice, measured and calm, came to her from the shadows.
“Who?”
“Peter. He’s spoken for. You can’t have him.”
Chapter Seven
Molly was momentarily thrown by the brazenness of the girl.
Is she accusing me?
“Excuse me,” she said, puffing herself up with outrage. She wanted to storm across the room, and get in the brazen girl’s face. But she’d been so thrown off kilter by the woman’s wild accusation she wasn’t sure how to respond to the charges.
“You heard me.” The girl emerged from the shadows holding the sleeping baby in her arms. The eyes that had seemed so kind earlier, now had an edge to them. Molly realized she’d misjudged the young woman in the kitchen. This woman was more than a threat—she was dangerous.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, but I’ve got my eye on you.” She managed to stammer out the quick sentence of denial as she tried to regain her composure.
The woman laughed, and moved to put the baby in the crib. It was a ridiculing laugh that lingered in her ears.
“You’ve got your eye on me? I see the way you look at him,” Shay said.
Molly was more thrown than earlier. “What are you talking about? I don’t know you. This is the first time I’ve laid eyes on you.”
Shay turned from the crib and faced her. “But it’s not the first time I’ve laid eyes on you.”
The danger in the young woman’s eyes was completely unnerving her. She took a step back. “Wh…wh…what?”
“Families research nannies, nannies research families. A girl’s got to know what she’s getting herself into. Am I right, darling?”
“Y.. yes, I suppose so.” She took another step back. “You’ve been spying on me?” Her intended outrage came out sputtering and weak. She sounded like a frightened child.
“I see the way you look at him, and I’m warning you. Stay away! He is spoken for.”
“I work with Peter. That’s it.” Molly said, taking another step back. “I’ve got my eye on you,” she added quickly, and rushed from the room.
She felt like a fool as she practically sprinted down the hall to Peter’s office. The young, brazen girl had bested her. She knew she couldn’t mention the encounter to Peter. He might suspect the truth, and decide to hire another assistant.
She couldn’t afford that. They couldn’t afford it. Not now, with the Horace Booker hearing hanging in the balance. The girl, of course, was right, had seen what no one else could see. Molly was in love with him.
*
Emma was pleased.
The following Tuesday, they had gotten the news that Judge Toliver had read Peter’s motion, and agreed to review the Horace Booker case.
It was a first step, a small step, but a step in the right direction. Emma was so happy for him, as happy for him as she was for herself.
She, too, had received exciting news. She’d aced her interview with Mobilsift. The next step was to meet with the head honcho in Palo Alto.
She felt a twinge of guilt over the job prospect, not because things were moving so quickly, or because she’d be going back to work, leaving her precious children with a nanny all day. She felt guilty because she hadn’t told Peter the job wasn’t local, in Los Angeles, as she’d led him to believe. If she landed the job, she’d need to commute to Palo Alto in Northern California.
While it was a short commuter flight—just an hour, flying didn’t make sense. It would cost about a thousand dollars a week to fly there every day. Palo Alto was a five hour drive from Los Angeles, so driving didn’t make sense, either. She’d need to leave the house at four a.m. to get to work on time. The only thing that made sense was taking a small, cheap apartment in Palo Alto and coming home on weekends.
But that didn’t make sense, either. Did it?
She tried telling herself there’s plenty of time to figure it out. This is just the second interview. But on the inside, she felt like a liar.
Peter was taking her to a nightclub to celebrate both of their good fortunes.
“But I haven’t gotten the job yet,” she protested.
“And I haven’t won Horace Booker’s freedom yet, either. Honey, we need to celebrate the small victories,” He’d said.
He came over and massaged her shoulders. She loved when he did that. At least she used to love it when she wasn’t a liar. Now she sat there feeling more and more guilty. Eventually, she placed a hand on top of his.
“That’s enough. Thank you.”
He turned her around, and looked her in the eyes.
“Honey, relax. You’re an excellent programmer. By your next interview, you’ll know Ionic inside and out. You’ll get it.”
That’s what I’m worried about, she thought.
He was keeping the location of their celebration a surprise. “Someplace posh and perfect,” he’d said.
This made her feel even more guilty.
She wanted to tell him. She really did, but she didn’t want to spoil his celebration. He’d worked so hard to get Judge Toliver to even consider reading the brief. He needed this celebration. She wouldn’t ruin it for him.
At least, that’s what she told herself. So she waited.
*
The woman was an unforeseen circumstance.
A possible fly in the ointment. She realized she needed to speed things along. Right now the silly woman didn’t seem to pose a threat. The woman knew she’d be watching her. And if she got wind that the woman had spoken to either of them about her…
She always knew there might be casualties. In the battle for love, sometimes there is death.
*
Emma hadn’t worn the dress in quite a while.
Peter had surprised her with the dress from an upscale boutique as a birthday present a year ago. She had admired it in the shop window one day while they were out for yogurt. They wandered in. She didn’t realize he noticed her admiring it, but a few weeks later, the morning of her birthday, she found it laying across their bed.
It was an elegant dress, something she never would have picked out for herself. It was a deep red flair made of a silky fabric with a pleated skirt.
Emma was not the elegant type. She had always been a jeans and sneakers girl—a tomboy her grandmother had called her. For Emma, dressing up was to throw a sport jacket over a V-neck tee.
The dress was different. She loved it, loved the way she looked in it, the way it made her feel. Most of all, she loved that Peter had chosen it for her. The fact that he could picture her in something so soft and lovely made her feel warm inside.
“It’s in here somewhere,” she said, digging for it in the back of her closet.
She was taking a break from practicing Ionic, and had a small audience of Shay and Robbie.
“It is like Princess Leah’s dress, Mommy?” Robbie asked.
“No,” she replied, giggling. “It’s nothing like Princess Leah’s dress—thank God!” She threw a teasing smile in Shay’s direction.
“When’s the last time you wore it?” asked Shay.
“Just the one time—for my birthday. It made me feel so…” she searched for the right word. “Sexy.”
A few weeks ago she would never have revealed this to Shay. But during that time, Shay had become more than a nanny. She was a girlfriend that Emma could tell things she’d never tell Peter. After the kids had breakfast, she and Shay would have tea in the morning, and grown up conversation. She loved that.
“What’s sexy?” asked Robbie.
Uh-oh. Now there was a good chance Peter would hear of the conversation. She had to keep reminding herself that Robbie was at the age where she had to watch what she said in front of him.
“Sexy is happy,” Shay responded, shooting a side glance at Emma.
“Yes, happy,” Emma said, with a relieved smile.
“When Shay makes my lunch, I feel sexy,” said Robbie.
That got a good laugh out of both of them. There was no doubt Peter was going to hear how sexy Robbie felt all the time.
“Here it is,” she said, pulling the dress from deep in the closet. It was sandwiched in the back, protected by plastic from the dry cleaners.
“It’s wrinkled,” she said, frowning, as she pulled it out of the plastic.
“It’s pretty,” said Shay, moving in to get a closer look. “Kind of retro, like from another era.”
“Yes, I suppose it is,” replied Emma, realizing this for the first time. “It’s definitely not my usual, but I love it so much. And I love that Peter picked it out for me.”
“It’s a very thoughtful gift,” Shay replied. She ran a hand along the dress. “It feels nice. The wrinkles aren’t too bad. You should be able to steam them right out.”
“Put it on, Mommy,” said Robbie.
“Not now.”
“Why not? It’s just us. And we’ll never tell. Will we?” Shay said, and tickled Robbie’s belly. A wave of giggles went up.
&nb
sp; “Later,” Emma said. The guilt was returning, affecting her mood.
“Everything okay, darling?” asked Shay, her voice lowering.
“Yes. I just think I should get back to studying Ionic.”
“Of course,” said Shay. “You’re lucky to have a husband who wants to see his wife in elegant things.” There was an odd flatness to her tone.
“I am,” replied Emma, her own voice a near whisper, as another wave of guilt drowned her out.
*
“The Daily Good wants to do a profile of you,” Molly said. She walked into Peter’s office holding a letter in her hand.
“What’s The Daily Good?” asked Peter, looking up from his computer.
“An online magazine. It’s not very big, but this is just the kind of thing we need to attract attention to the firm,” said Molly. She smiled at him, and waved the letter.
Molly was right. If the small firm was going to survive, they needed some publicity. While Peter enjoyed his work on The Death Row project, they both knew he couldn’t do pro bono work forever. They had to bring in some revenue.
“We haven’t gotten a ruling yet,” Peter protested.
“I keep telling you it doesn’t matter. People are looking at you now, Peter. Do you know how big it is the get a judge to consider overturning his own ruling?”
“No, but I like when you keep telling me,” Peter replied. A small smile appeared on his lips.
Molly was a keeper. She always had her eye on the big picture.
“What do I need to do?” he asked.
“Just say you’ll do the interview. You can do it over the phone. I’ll take care of the rest.”
Peter’s expression darkened momentarily. “But suppose we don’t—”
“Don’t say it,” Molly quipped. “You’re in a good place right now. Let’s enjoy it.”
Peter’s smile returned. “I’m trying. It’ll be a lot more enjoyable when the judge rules in our favor.”
“There ya go. That’s the positive Peter I’ve come to know. So should I tell them you’ll do it?”
“Yes. And thank you.”
Molly started out, turned back.
“I’m glad to see you’re spending more evenings at home,” she said.