I was recently divorced and needing a change when I saw the ad online. "Live-in nanny needed A.S.A.P!" It read. Noticing that it was in the New Jersey area, I decided to check it out. I had been living in the Midwest, and I couldn't think of a bigger change. I hadn't had any formal nanny experience, but I loved kids and I had taken some childcare courses in college. Deciding to take a risk, I sent in my resume and continued on with my job search. Little did I know how much my life was about to change.
I received a phone call a few days later, and I was shocked that I had even been considered. I had honestly forgotten all about applying. The call actually came from the family's current nanny, Beatrice. After introducing herself and asking a few preliminary questions, Beatrice went on to explain the situation. Apparently, she had been the nanny ever since the parents had gotten divorced and the children's father had needed help when he had the kids every few days.
"Wait a minute," I interrupted.
"Yes, dear?" she replied.
"Why does he need a live-in nanny if he only has the kids every few days?"
"You know, I wondered that very thing when I first started here. Apparently the divorce was very amicable, and they don't live very far apart. The children's visits are different every week, and they have changed at a moment's notice before. Other times they'll go a week or two without visiting at all. Between that and the fact that Mr. Stein works a great deal, he felt more secure having someone here all the time to be ready for anything."
"But what do you do in all that down time?" I asked her.
"Well, I've been doubling as a sort of housekeeper. I keep things tidy and organized around the house, I do the laundry, sometimes I cook, but he's usually working late and grabs his own dinner."
"Doesn't that get lonely?" I asked her.
"No more lonely than living alone. My room is on the other side of the house, and I rarely see him. When both children are here, though, this place can become a madhouse. They're very sweet, but by the end of their visit you're thankful for the downtime," Beatrice said with a smile in her voice.
She further detailed the position for me, explaining that she had been there for five years. However, she was pushing sixty and her elderly mother was ailing and she wanted to spend her last years with her. When I asked her why Mr. Stein wasn't calling me himself, she said that he had such faith in her, he wanted her to do the interviewing for her replacement on her own. I personally thought that he was just too busy to care, but I didn't want to judge too quickly.
We ended up talking for almost an hour. I told her all about myself and why I wanted such a drastic change. She understood, said that something similar had happened to her five years ago, and claimed that this was the best thing that could have happened to her.
The next thing I knew, I was on a plane to New Jersey, the only thing to my name being a useless Bachelor's Degree in studio art and a failed marriage. Beatrice greeted me at the airport, and drove me to the house in Mr. Stein's minivan that he kept around for her to run errands and pick up the kids in. We picked up our conversation like old friends, and I thanked her again for taking a chance on me.
"Don't be silly, dear," Beatrice replied, "I have a feeling that you will be very happy. It just takes some getting used to." Once we arrived, she showed me to her now empty room and helped me get unpacked. After that she gave me a tour of the house and showed me all the essentials. After an hour or two, Beatrice looked at her watch and frowned.
"What's the matter?" I asked her.
"Well, Mr. Stein said he would try to be here in time for me to introduce you, but I guess he got held up. I just hate to leave mother alone this late in the evening." Hmmm...This Mr. Stein was beginning to look like a real asshole.
"Beatrice, this is silly. You go ahead and go. I'll be fine," I assured her. It took me a good ten minutes to convince her to leave, promising to call her if I had any questions. As I walked around looking at framed portraits of two adorable children, I realized I was hungry.
With my head buried in the fridge, thinking about making an omelet, I didn't hear the back door open. And so it was that the first impression I made on my new employer was my jean-clad ass sticking up in the air while I dug in his fridge, rifling through his food. Didn't matter that he was extremely late and I was told that I could do this, I still felt like an idiot when I heard him yell from behind me.
"Just who the fuck are you?"
I was so startled that I jumped up, smacked my head on the refrigerator shelf and dropped the carton of eggs I'd been holding onto the ground. Wincing at the loud cracks I heard from the carton and the pain in my head, I turned to look at the reason for my reaction.
That's when my breath caught. He was a distinguished middle-aged man, probably in his mid forties and dressed in an immaculate suit. He had thinning, dusty blond/almost brown hair, that looked like it would be curly if he let it grow. A strong build, a chiseled jaw, and the look was topped off with a pair of angry green eyes. He looked arrogant and obnoxious, and he was sexy as hell. I always had a thing for older men, I just never realized how much until I was already married to someone a year younger than me.
"I...uh, I'm...Amy," I stammered, feeling more stupid by the second.
"Amy who?" He snapped, looking me up and down with an expression that said he found me lacking.
