The Nanny & Her Scrooge Page 9

  Gritting her teeth, Nicki pulled herself off the chair, and headed for the adjacent bathroom to get a washcloth. Dampening one corner, she debated whether she could wipe some of the crayon off. Maybe an eraser would work better.

  What was she doing? she suddenly asked herself. She hadn’t seen a child this rude and unruly in the entire two weeks she’d worked as a Santa Claus. It would be easier to tell Jared to have at it, and just quit.

  Madison yelled from the other room. “Hey, lady! Hey, what’s-your-name! Come here! Look what I’m doing!”

  Violently jerking both the faucets to the off position, Nicki rushed into the bedroom.

  Madison, at the end of the sleigh bed, her arms akimbo, walked across the footboard as if it were a balance beam.

  Nicki gasped. “Madison. Don’t!”

  “Why not?”

  “Because it’s a brand-new bed. Because you’ll scratch it.”

  She wheeled on the narrow piece of wood, teetering as she stared at Nicki, defying her. “So.”

  “Because you’ll fall,” Nicki went on, moving toward the child, her hands extended. “You might get hurt.”

  “No, I won’t. Watch.” That said, the child spring-boarded off the end and took a flying leap right into Nicki’s arms.

  Nicki clutched at her writhing body, staggering, and half afraid they’d both tumble to the floor. Behind her, she distinctly heard Jared clear his throat. Nicki, horrified, struggled to stand. She raised her eyes and turned to the door.

  Jared’s gaze, dark and brooding, met hers. His fury, barely contained, lit up the room.

  Madison locked her legs around Nicki’s middle, and attached herself like glue. “Hi, Daddy,” she sang.

  “Madison,” he said firmly, “I don’t ever want to see you on the furniture again.”

  “Yes, Daddy,” she said meekly, her mouth rounding into a pout.

  “Nicki, as for you, I’ve been called back to work, but I want to see you immediately in my office after I return. I assume you’ll have everything under control by then.”

  Although Madison put her in a chokehold, Nicki managed to nod dumbly. It occurred to her she was probably losing consciousness. Why else would she agree to such a preposterous ultimatum? Why else would she stay?

  After Jared left, Madison leaned back, surveying the damage she’d done. “So,” she said, “are you gonna stick around or what?”

  Chapter Eight

  The afternoon was a disaster. Nicki had tried to interest Madison in unpacking her suitcase, but soon discovered the child had arrived with a motley collection of summer clothes, most worn out, or outgrown, and all despicably dirty. The ultimate revenge, Nicki thought soberly; send your child packing back to your ex, with an attitude and a suitcase of dirty clothes.

  How in the world was she going to turn this around?

  Gone were the visions of sugarplums dancing in her head. She was trapped, veritably trapped—with a five-year-old terror and a father whose surly attitude was not destined to improve.

  The condo, her only refuge, was closed—the furniture given away or sold. She didn’t have another job prospect on the horizon and she didn’t have a car; she’d told the mechanic to sell it for scrap—and what she received for it was not even enough for a bus ticket out of here.

  She dreaded, absolutely dreaded, facing Jared tonight. He was going to rake her over the coals, she just knew it.

  Dinner had been a fiasco, but the housekeeper had finally knuckled under to Madison’s pleading, and taken away chicken, peas, and mashed potatoes—and replaced the plate with a peanut butter and jelly sandwich.

  In two hours Nicki had managed to bathe Madison, wash her hair, and cut her bangs. Along the way, she discovered that the child didn’t know any Christmas carols, not even “Jingle Bells,” but she knew the whole raucous version of “Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer.” She learned that Howie drank too much beer, and her mother liked partying better at the Spiral rather than the Soggy Bottom.

  “How about a story before bed?” Nicki invited, pulling a book off the shelves.

  “Nah. I’d rather just watch TV before I fall asleep. Most of the time I stay up and watch the late show. I like to sleep on the couch, too.”

  Nicki smiled, pleasantly, and refused to give in. “Not an option, Maddy. I can either read to you, or tuck you in.”

  Madison stared at her, obviously debating whether this was an argument she was going to win. “Oh, all right, I guess.” Madison climbed up into the big bed and pulled the covers over her. She patted the spot beside her. “You’re going to sit here, aren’t you? That’s the way they do it in the movies.”

  Nicki smiled. In spite of everything Madison had put her through, there was still an innocence about her. “Sure, I can do that. I’m glad you know how this storytime thing works.”

  “Mmm, my mom reads me the back off the cereal boxes, but that’s in the morning. We don’t do this night stuff. I usually have a baby-sitter at night—and you know baby-sitters, they always have their boyfriends over and they’re busy with them.”

  “Interesting,” Nicki commented, settling onto the mattress and wedging her shoulders against the headboard. “Mmm, you smell pretty after a bath,” she said, looking down at Madison. She couldn’t resist patting one of Madison’s curls back into place. “And your hair is so pretty, too. You know, I think this story is about a little girl who has long blond hair, just like you.” She showed Madison the book jacket.

  In moments they were chuckling together over one little girl’s search for the perfect star for the top of her Christmas tree. Though Madison’s eyes were heavy, she intently studied each page, tracing the illustrations with her finger. When they turned the last page, she yawned. Nicki asked her if she liked the story, and she nodded.

  “I hate to interrupt,” Jared said from the doorway. He appeared tired, his expression bemused as he loosened his tie. “But it’s getting late, and I want to see you, Nicki.”

  Nicki straightened. She pulled her shoulders off the headboard, then swung her feet down from the bed. “We just finished the last page,” she said hastily, “and were looking at the pictures.

  “Fine.”

  Nicki rose. “Good night, Madison, see you in the morning.”

  Madison slid further under the covers, effectively avoiding any hug Nicki could give her. “Don’t forget you said we’d do the decorations for the tree tomorrow,” she reminded her.

  “I won’t forget,” Nicki replied softly, patting her arm. She put the book away, and moved toward the door, but Jared still stood there, blocking her escape. Hesitating, she sidestepped his bulk. “Is there anything else?” she asked, feeling strangely on the defensive.

  “I’ll meet you in your room. Ten minutes.” He turned away, to head for his room.

  Nicki stared at his broad back, unable to comprehend he hadn’t said a word to Madison. “Jared,” she called after him. “I believe you wanted to say good-night to your daughter?”

  Jared pivoted on one heel, a quizzical expression running through his dark eyes. He tugged on his tie, freeing it from his shirt collar.

  “Madison’s waiting,” she reminded him. “For you.” With that, she turned and walked down the corridor, to await her fate.

  Madison pulled the covers over her head and turned her back on her father. The message couldn’t have been any more succinct and a knife twisted in Jared’s heart. But what could he expect, really?

  “Good night, Madison.”

  Madison didn’t move a muscle. Her face was to the wall.

  It took everything in him, but he tried again. “I heard you and Nicki are going to decorate the tree tomorrow.”

  She remained silent.

  “Anything I can do to help you out with this tree-decorating stuff?”

  She jerked the covers around her neck as though she was battening down the hatches, then she twisted beneath them as if she couldn’t quite get comfortable. Several seconds slipped away. “Why would you care?
” she asked belligerently. “You left me here. You went back to work. You don’t care what I do.”

  So that was it. “Maddy, I wanted to be here with you today. Really.”

  “Yeah. Right.”

  “I worked late last night, just so I could be the one to pick you up at the airport.” She flipped onto her back and stared straight ahead, at the wall, where two prints, scarred by her childish scrawls hung. “This is Christmas,” he explained, “and it’s the busiest time of the year at the store.” Her eyes flickered, and he hoped, fleetingly, that he was getting through to her. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad.”

  One finger wiggled out from beneath the comforter to stroke the satin binding on the pillowcase. “You could have called,” she accused.

  Jared sank a hip onto the bed, figuring this was the closest he was going to get to a concession or an invitation. “You’re right. I could have. How about if we make a date every day for me to call you? Say, three o’clock.”

  “Kind of like when I live in California and you live here?”

  “Just like.”

  “Okay. I guess.” Her shoulder leaned back toward him, just slightly, just enough to indicate she was open to the suggestion.

  He paused, wondering what to say next. “How are you going to decorate the tree?”

  “Candy canes and gumdrops and licorice whips.”

  “No?” He exaggerated the question. “You’re decorating the tree, not planning to eat it?”

  A hint of a smile played around her lips. “Daddy.”

  “So how do you like Nicki?”

  Madison considered, her head tilting. “She’s okay. But she made me play Candyland all afternoon.”

  “Made you?”

  “I kept beating her, and she doesn’t like to lose.”

  “Oh.”

  He was about to say good-night, when she said, “Daddy? Do you like Nicki?”

  “Of course. She’s fun, she’s funny, and did you know she has a hotline to Santa Claus?”

  Madison rolled her eyes, ignoring the suggestion. “No. I mean, do you like her like Mommy likes Howie?” Jared opened his mouth, then promptly closed it, aware of where this was leading. “You know, all that mushy stuff,” she prompted.

  “M-mushy stuff?” he repeated. Thoughts of the kiss he’d shared with Nicki on the dance floor made him uncomfortable. Memories of the encounter he’d orchestrated had plagued him for a week. Every time he looked at Nicki, he thought of it. “She’s just a friend,” he said, “that’s all. And she’s going to be staying with us for a while. Until you’re situated, and she finds another job.”

  “She’s not going to stay?”

  Hearing an edge of hysteria in Madison’s voice made Jared revise his statement. “Of course, she’s going to stay. For as long as we want her to. For as long as it works out for all of us.”

  Jared didn’t know what had come over him. He should be thinking about Madison, but instead he was thinking of Nicki.

  Maybe it was seeing her all curled up with Madison, their heads together, whispering softly, as they turned pages and looked at pictures. Or it could have been Madison’s inferences about “mushy stuff” that had done the job on his male hormones.

  Life sure had a way of challenging a man’s self-control. That, and his best intentions.

  He loved his child dearly, but it would always grate on him that he’d chosen the world’s worst mother for her. While he was talking to Madison, it had come to him in a flash that she actually needed someone like Nicki, someone who had her priorities straight, someone who knew how to laugh, and who knew what was important.

  Sandra had duped him. Sometimes he didn’t know if it was she who had changed the minute he’d slipped the diamond-encrusted ring on her finger, or if he had been foolishly blind to her hunger for money, to her quest for fun-loving irresponsibility. She had been delightfully impetuous at twenty-two, and self-serving and rash at twenty-five. When she wanted a child at twenty-seven, Jared had thought it was because she was ready to grow up—he’d never realized it was because she wanted, as had her other friends, a child to trot out at her convenience and show off.

  Sandra had had all the qualities that could have taken her far in life—but she’d chosen not to use them, she’d chosen an alternate lifestyle he couldn’t tolerate.

  The only thing he truly regretted about the past—his past—was that Sandra was not the woman he wanted as a wife or as a mother to his children.

  Seeing Nicki like that…made him remember all his hopes for a big family, for a committed family grounded in principles, bound by loyalty. Now, he realized, that those were just high expectations cloaked in fantasy. You never got what you really wanted out of life, it would be absurd to think otherwise.

  Still, the last few days, he hadn’t treated Nicki right—and he knew it. He’d treated her like hired help because he couldn’t fend off the stirrings she created in him. He’d told himself—wrongly—if he didn’t see her, or talk to her, she couldn’t affect him. If he dismissed her, she wouldn’t come to him willingly, not about anything.

  Yet he’d been conscious of her everywhere in the house.

  She’d unwittingly started laying her brown leather purse on the kitchen chair nearest the window, and he’d have to move it because that was his favorite breakfast chair. At night he’d find her shoes paired outside the back door because she didn’t want to track across Irene’s clean floor, and he’d wind up bringing them in so they wouldn’t be cold when she next slipped them on. Yesterday he’d opened the coat closet and found a familiar blue wool coat hanging next to his leather jacket. He’d pulled on the jacket, and realized, too late, the scent of her perfume lingered on his own clothing.

  He couldn’t escape her. And some days he didn’t know if he wanted to.

  His child had come home to him a heathen—unskilled in social skills and manners—and he had walked off and gone back to work, expecting Nicki to fix it, without complaint. The least he owed her was an apology. Or maybe an explanation.

  After he’d left Madison’s room, he hadn’t gone directly to talk to Nicki. He’d gone down to the kitchen for a peace offering—and even that, he knew, wasn’t a good idea.

  He paused at the top of the landing and peered down the long corridor. Nicki’s door hung open and light streamed into the hallway. He imagined her there, waiting, and his heart gave a little jump. He counted the steps to the door, then, with the back of his knuckles, rapped on the door-frame.

  Nicki came around the corner. She’d taken off her cardigan sweater, and kicked off her shoes. Her blouse had been pulled from the waistband of her dark-colored dress pants. “Come in. Sorry for the mess,” she said, indicating the packing boxes stacked just inside the door.

  He shrugged, ignoring them. “You haven’t had enough time for yourself.”

  Nicki’s lips parted, as if she were surprised he’d noticed.

  He tilted the bottle of wine in her direction. “This was supposed to be a fairly good year. I thought we could share it.” She glanced at the date. It was recent, but she’d never grasp the implication. “The year Madison was born,” he said, extending two wine flutes. “Back then it seemed pretty significant. As a parent you figure your firstborn is going to make a real impact on the world. Well—” he half laughed “—she certainly made an impact today, didn’t she?”

  Nicki avoided his eyes, and shrugged, her smile tight. “She did.” Then, she backed up, and out of his way.

  Jared indicated the kitchenette, and they both slipped into the tiny turn-around, standing side by side at the counter, their motions automatic. As he peeled the foil off the neck of the wine bottle, she set the flutes to the back of the counter, out of his way.

  He concentrated on getting the cork out of the bottle. “Hard day?” he asked.

  Nicki fiddled with the flutes. “We managed,” she said carefully.

  “I have to tell you, Nicki. This was not what I expected, not at all.” From the corner of h
is eye, he watched Nicki nibble her lower lip. “It was a pretty rough start.”

  “I guess you were wrong about me, and what a whiz I am with kids.”

  He cleared his throat and reached for a flute. “We may need to talk about how long you’re going to stay, because—”

  “Listen, about what happened to the prints, and her jumping off the bed, and—”

  “Stop,” he commanded, pouring the wine. “This isn’t about that.”

  “Jared, before you say anything else, I’ll admit I wasn’t doing my job. At least, not the job you hired me for.”

  “What?” Eyes narrowed, he looked at her, then set the filled flute aside.

  “I know you’re angry with me, I could see that this afternoon. You don’t have to cover it by bringing in a bottle of wine and dulling my senses when you yell at me.”

  “I didn’t have any intention of dulling your senses,” he said, frowning. “And I didn’t have any intention of yelling at you.”

  “You didn’t come in here to fire me?”

  “Hell, no. I came in here to beg you to stay.”

  “I…”

  “Don’t tell me you didn’t think about quitting a dozen times today,” he accused.

  Her attempt to laugh was pathetic, but her shoulders shook as if the irony was too much. “Where would I go?” she said. “Everything I have is here.”

  A corner of his heart twisted.

  “Besides, have you ever tried to find a real job at Christmas?” She chuckled at her own absurd question. It was common knowledge Jared’s father built the store from the ground up, and had groomed his only son to take over the reins from the day he was born. “No, I guess not.”

  “Nicki, stay here, with us, and I’ll make it worth your while. Get the thought out of your head. I have no intention of firing you. Not twice.”

  Her smile was strained. “You’re sure about that?”

  “Positive.”

  “Okay, then I’ll admit I thought about leaving. I thought about packing a suitcase and walking out the door. But…” Nicki hesitated, chewing her lower lip. “Madison needs me. I realized, after you left, and I looked like an idiot and got over my initial shock, that she was testing me. Jared, she wanted to know if I’d stick around, no matter how bad she was.”