by Haley Oliver
"I though the two of you fired your nanny?" Valerie raises a questioning eyebrow.
I sigh. "Don't remind me." I don't try to take her arm, but steer her with the small of her back toward the restaurant doors.
"For the record, I think you made the right decision in letting that woman go," Valerie remarks. "But if you've relied so heavily on a nanny that even your secretary, who has been with you for three years, didn't know you had a son..."
"Two years seven months," I correct mildly.
"What?"
"You've been my secretary for two years and seven months."
Valerie exhales in frustration, and I can't help grinning. I push harder on the small of her back to let her know it's all in good fun, and she obediently takes the seat at the table that I've steered her towards. My secretary may think she knows how to guide me toward the most favorable resolutions, but she'd be astonished to find she isn't the only one with manipulative powers. I take the seat across from her and open the menu to shield my face. One of her fingers creeps up to pull it back down again. She is intent on commanding my attention. Not that she has to try tonight. She grabbed my attention the second I saw her when I picked her up at her door.
At first glance, she had me stunned by her appearance. Tonight, she's traded her glasses for contacts, her hair is down and flowing in gentle waves past her shoulders, and... do I imagine it, or did she put on a darker lipstick? The wine-red matte of her scowling mouth is, despite the best efforts of her expression, infinitely attractive. How is it I never noticed what a knockout my secretary is?
I set my menu aside and fold my hands. "Your most expensive sake," I order from the waiter without even bothering to look in his direction. "You were saying?"
"You've distracted me completely from what I was saying!" Valerie complains.
"You mentioned something about the fact that I have a son."
"Yes, but you never mentioned that you did!"
"He's been living with his mother for the past five years." As the waiter returns with the sake, I pour a shot for Valerie, then one for myself. "Now he lives with me."
"I see." Valerie eyes me skeptically as I lift my glass in toast. Hers hovers out of reach. Those enormous hazel eyes of hers command my attention. I'm caught in them and held despite myself. "So what are you going to do now?" she asks quietly.
I can feel the amused smirk on my lips expire. I try to hold onto it, anyway, but it feels like a lost cause with this intelligent, intuitive woman staring me down. After our usual teasing banter, her serious tone surprises me. Not that Valerie is ever anything but serious, yet there's something in her tone, in the directness of her look, that makes me realize she's not passing judgement on me. She's speaking to me almost like a friend who is concerned about another friend.
But that can't be the case. We have a strictly working relationship, Valerie and me. It is an unspoken rule. Tonight is just a minor exception to the usual rule. This has been a week of truly exceptional circumstances, but I'm rolling with the punches.
"You're not drinking," I taunt as I pour myself another. Valerie rolls her eyes, sighs in exasperation, and rises to my challenge, throwing back her shot like a champ. "Good girl." I take her glass to pour a refill.
"Don't call me that," she says automatically. It's the same response I get to calling her 'Val' rather than 'Valerie', or at least, the one I used to get. I think she's given up on that front. "And is this all you intend to do this evening? Distract me?"
"I'm distracting us both," I admit as I hail the waiter. "Have you decided what you'd like to order, honey?"
Valerie nearly chokes on her sake. Her face erupts in a violent blush across from me, and I grin evilly at having won another round against the Ice Princess. The waiter awaits her response, pen poised, unaware of anything being amiss. There are couples dining all around us, after all. It's more unlikely that we aren't on a date.
"I'll have... this." Valerie flips to the last page and points to the top of it. A cursory glance down tells me it's the most expensive item on the menu.
"A very good choice," our waiter replies.
"Yes," Valerie nods. "And I'll take two of them."
Touché.
I put in my own order and our waiter departs. "You really think you can eat all that?" I ask incredulously.
"Yes," Valerie says confidently. She holds her glass out to be refreshed, and I oblige her by keeping the sake flowing.
"You don't even know what it is you ordered, do you?"
"We were discussing you and Henry," she reminds me. "And what you're going to do now that you're minus a nanny."
"Oh, I'm sure something will turn up," I say vaguely.
Valerie shakes her head so hard her dark blond hair whips around her shoulders. It's extremely captivating. I begin to watch her gestures more attentively, with something bordering on amusement. Has she had so much to drink already that she's letting her hair down, figuratively and literally? Never in my life did I think she would let me see this side of her. "This isn't Mary Poppins," she tells me. I sit back, my brow furrowed in confusion. Perhaps I should go easier on those heavy pours I've been giving her. Valerie notices my look. Her bright eyes narrow, and she shakes her head, obviously having read my thoughts. "What I'm saying is nannies don't just drop out of the sky, Daniel. And when are you going to have the time in your schedule to actually, properly vet one? I assume you hired the last girl without spending any significant amount of time observing her around Henry?"
I let out a slow, guilty breath. "I've been extremely busy, as you well know." I redirect all my attention to my glass.
"He's your son."
"I'm aware he's my son."
"He's your son, and he almost..." Valerie cuts herself off abruptly when I glance up. She doesn't meet my eyes. She stares off over the heads of the other diners and fixes on something she sees out the window... or is pretending to see. I wonder if she's back in that intersection with Henry, the ball… the bus. I know I've imagined the scenario over and over again, building it off the details I've been given. But Valerie was there. She experienced it first-hand. She was with my son when no one else was. The guilt gnaws away at my insides, but I don't let on. It's as though the moment I express my own horror or awareness of the extreme danger, it becomes real. The moment I accept just how close Henry came to ending up in the morgue is the moment I forsake sleep for every foreseeable night to come and welcome the nightmares.
"You're so good with him," I say. "Today. In the office." She watches me as a take a sip of sake. "I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little jealous."
"He's a kid," Valerie protests. "You can't be jealous of him."
I look at her for a long moment. "Can't I?"
"No," she replies. "Wait. Oh," she blushes. "You meant you're jealous of me and the way I got along with him, not that you're jealous of him hanging out with me… I... darn it, Daniel, quit refilling my glass!"
"You're cute when you're flustered," I chuckle as I withdraw with the bottle. "
"Just tell me something. Why are we here tonight?" Valerie asks. "We both know it's more than just to thank me for doing the right thing. What's the deal?"
I feel a small prickle of annoyance, perhaps even shame, at this. It surprises me that her words—her opinion of me—matters. Yet, it does. "Is that what you think?" I ask quietly. "That I have to have some other motive behind inviting you to dinner with me?"
Her brows raise. "Prove me wrong." She stares me down, and I chuckle inwardly. What a pair we are. We both want to lead this dance, convinced we know the steps, until the other interrupts the samba with a bit of swing.
Maybe I'm only annoyed because Valerie is right. I hate feeling so predictable, and I hate that she knows me well enough to always anticipate the worst. Why does it feel so wrong to have an ulterior motive? Pursuing what I want should not make me feel as uncomfortable as it does now.
"All right, Val. You win."
"I doubt it."
The
waiter returns and sets two heaping giant sushi platters down in front of Valerie, and her eyes go wide. "Okay, Daniel. Out with it." She begins to redistribute some of her sushi onto a smaller plate and passes it to me. I sigh and pick up my chopsticks.
"I want you to be Henry's nanny," I state.
A piece of nigiri drops from Valerie's chopsticks. "You want me... what?"
"Easy now." I grin, enjoying the resurgence of her blush. "I can't think of anyone better suited for the position."
"Because I'm practically the only blue collar woman you know?"
"Because he likes you," I correct. "And because I know you. And I trust you. And, apparently, you have quick instincts."
"How many buses do you foresee Henry stepping out in front of?" she asks skeptically. I watch her toy with a slice of ginger on her plate. It hasn't escaped me that she hasn't said "no" to my offer.
I reach across the table with my chopsticks and pin hers. She looks up at me. "Valerie," I say. "Please consider my request. More than that, please consider it alongside a very generous pay raise. You know I'll make it worth your while. Henry's starting all day kindergarten, so while he's there you could continue working at Sway, with reduced hours, of course. There's nobody I trust with this more than I trust you."
"Are you sure you're not just asking me because it's convenient?" Her eyes search mine, and for a moment, I'm lost for words. I withdraw my chopsticks and pick up my drink.
"It hadn't even crossed my mind to consider someone else," I admit. I wonder if this is the right thing to say. Valerie has a way of exacting the truth from me, whether I like it or not. I'm a far better negotiator when it comes to cutting deals in the boardroom with cutthroat business tycoons than I am with my own secretary.
A silence descends as I give Valerie time to consider my offer. "One question," Valerie says after a moment. "Are you going to Owen and Amanda's wedding?"
"Why?" I spear a sushi roll. "Do you need a date?" I grin.
"Ugh!" she exclaims. "No! I was... I'm just wondering if you intend to take Henry with you to Tahiti. If I'm going to be his nanny, I need to know these things."
"Yes, I will be attending the wedding and if you agree to be his nanny, then I'd need you to accompany us," I point out. "I'll of course take care of all expenses."
Valerie stares for a long moment at her lap. I'm itching to know what she's thinking. She always struck me as a deep thinker and I live for the moments when I can draw her out of her own thoughts. What goes on in that head of hers? I realize at this moment that outside of work, I know very little about her. Nothing about where she lives or what she does for fun. I can hardly imagine Val having fun. She's always so serious. What does she wrestle with? My problems are all out in the open. I'm an open book.
But, Valerie gives nothing away.
"All right," she replies finally. She raises her drink, and I realize she actually intends to toast properly. "We'll work out a contract. I'll come on as Henry's nanny—but just until you find someone else."
"Until I find someone else," I solemnly repeat.
"And so long as it doesn't interfere with my work at Sway."
"It won't," I promise.
We clink our glasses together. "And here's to you having a date to Owen and Amanda's wedding," I say wickedly. Valerie's already raised the sake to her lips, and she chokes at my addition.
I think I've struck a pretty good deal, if I do say so myself.
Chapter Five
Valerie
Wherever Henry Sway goes, his soccer ball always accompanies him. And wherever that soccer ball goes, I generally go running.
"Henry!" I try not to scold, try not to laugh (and thus encourage the number of times he intends to lose his ball) as it once more rolls beneath my dressing room door. "This is not a goalie net!"
"If it was, I would have scored a ton of points already!" the little voice crows from the other side of the door. I bite back a grin and shake my head. He's precocious, but I'd be lying if I claimed he wasn't a lot of fun to be around. This time, rather than pass it back under the door, I lob it up and over, eliciting a delighted squeal.
It's been two weeks since I agreed over dinner to become Henry's temporary nanny. I signed the contract with Daniel, and just received my first paycheck. I should have known he would make it a shockingly exorbitant amount. I intend to have a chat with him about overpaying me... right after I work out which dress I'm going to buy for Tahiti. I decided to limit myself to one new purchase. That, on top of my bridesmaid's dress, will have to be sufficient. Everything else I'm going to wear around the resort and beach will come out of my existing wardrobe at home. I'll probably be spending most of my vacation time running around after Henry, anyway.
I have never nannied for anyone before in my life, unless you include my younger siblings. Maybe it's not the most honorable of motives, but it had been on the tip of my tongue to refuse Daniel's offer out of principle. Then, he dangled the wedding in front of my like a juicy carrot. Fly for free and avoid embarrassing myself, or worse, impacting the friendship I have with Amanda by not attending the most important day of her life? I could hardly refuse Daniel's offer.
And I'm so glad now that I said yes to it. Turns out I'm actually a pretty good nanny... and I adore Henry and enjoy spending time with him. I more than adore him. Who knew a girl could fall in love in as little as two weeks?
"Okay. So what do you think?" I unlatch the door and step out in a pearl pink dress. I smooth my palms down the front of the skirt and look at Henry expectantly.
"Is that your dress for Panini?" Henry bounces his ball, and looks up at me with somber, bored eyes.
"For Tahiti," I correct mildly. I do a turn in front of the mirror, and tuck my chin to gaze down the length of my back at the coverage. My eyes inevitably stray to Henry's reflection in the mirror. I'm reminded of The Emperor's New Clothes. Even if this is the activity he'd most like to avoid doing right now, a kid's honesty is telling critique. I shouldn't take it for granted. "And no, I don't think this is the dress I'm going to wear."
"Good." Henry tosses his ball up and catches it. I head back into the changing room, pull on another item, and exit again. "Bad," Henry declares. This goes on for several more changes until the boy sighs in frustration. "Why don't you just let my dad buy you a dress? He always buys dresses for his girlfriends."
"Does he?" I'm still preoccupied checking my reflection in the mirror. Daniel's spending habits are no surprise to me. He dates casually and often, although I've never known him to hang onto a prospective girlfriend for longer than a few months.
"That's what my mom said."
I turn to study Henry. He's looking down, bouncing his ball, so I don't mind taking a prolonged moment of observation. I've been incredibly curious to hear more about Henry's family situation, but it's not something I'd ever press the child about. I'm sure it will all come out in time.
"Well, I thought maybe we'd change it up today," I say. "I think you have better taste than your dad. So I'm relying on you to help me."
Henry tips his chin up suddenly and grins, pleased to be conspiring with me. I wink and go back into the stall to change. "You know, you remind me of my brothers," I remark over the door.
I can tell this captures his attention even more. "You have brothers?"
"Yes. Two younger ones. And a younger sister, too."
"I wish I had brothers and sisters," Henry laments as I exit the changing room ready to surrender. "That one's great," he says. I double-check my reflection. To my surprise, it is good. A festive ruby-red hemmed in gold that drapes down around my slender legs—those are going to need a tan, though. The dress has a plunging back that I never would have imagined myself wearing out in public.
"Are you sure? Red's not usually my color." But Henry's right. This is the one. I'll just have to get over myself and learn to live a little. Grinning, I go back behind the door to change.
"I think red should be your color." Henry dribbles the ball. "Red's
my favorite color. I bet it's my dad's too after he sees you."
I blush to match the fabric of the dress. "Nah. I don't know about that." I vaguely hope that Henry doesn't have the wrong idea in his head about his dad's and my relationship.
We leave the dressing room together. Henry drops his ball and I steal it out from under him, dribbling it with my feet to the front register with him laughing, and the store employees scowling. "Hey, what do you say we go for ice cream?" I offer as soon as I've made my purchase. "Dad's treat."
"Yeah!" Henry pumps his fist and bounces in celebration all the way down the block. As we near the park, his pace noticeably slows, and he suddenly appears uncertain.
It was something I had suspected. I pretend not to notice his trepidation, and casually take his hand as the green light bids us to cross. I don't have to tell him to hold onto his ball as we brave the busy intersection.
Then we're home free, the park entrance smiling open at us. I pretend not to notice his obvious relief, either. "This place has the best ice cream," I enthuse as we go in. "The man with the cart by the pond. He sells snow cones, too. Which do you think you'd like?"
"My old nanny never let me get ice cream here." Henry's eyes shine as I push a couple of bills into his hand and clap him on the shoulders. He doesn't need any more encouragement. He's already running headlong for the ice cream man, leaving me in the dust to hold his ball. I laugh to myself and settle onto the bench to wait for him, watching him like a hawk.
"Get two of whatever you choose!" I shout. He turns and nods, a little man on a mission. My grin stretches. The ice cream offer was a ploy. It hasn't escaped my notice that Henry has avoided wanting to go to the park the past two weeks since his near-miss with the bus. I'm no expert, but I've found that some of life's traumas are easily defeated with a little bit of sugary incentive.
"Don't you want to go play?" I ask Henry when he returns. He barely looks over his shoulder at the other kids frolicking on the grassy green lawn. He shakes his head.