The Summer Nanny Page 2

  And with those words Vera was gone, letting the back door slam behind her.

  Some people have really rotten luck in love, Leda thought, turning back to her work. If only a little bit of the luck Vera enjoyed in the financial sector could be inserted in the sector of romance, Vera might be a whole lot happier.

  For many years Vera had worked in various administrative office positions until about eighteen years ago, when she had inherited a fairly large amount of money from an aunt that allowed her to quit her job and move to Yorktide, where she set up her dream restaurant. Over Easy, a high-end breakfast place, closed in mid-October, after the last of the leaf peepers had gone home, and reopened in late May to catch what business the very earliest vacationers might bring. During the dreaded Maine winters Vera traveled, visiting her parents in Arizona and indulging in spa retreats in Santa Fe. She often asked Leda to join her, all expenses paid, but Leda, while not stupidly proud, wasn’t comfortable taking expensive gifts from anyone, not even her dearest friend. If ever she could afford to join her friend on a spa retreat, she would. Until then she would be content with stories of hot stone massages and naked yoga classes. Well, the naked yoga stories she could do without. Too much flapping around.

  Vera had come to Yorktide not long after Leda’s husband, Charlie, Amy’s father, had passed. She had met Leda at the real estate office where Leda was working as a receptionist. The two women grew friendly, and over time Vera had become a sort of aunt and even a friend to Amy. Like Amy, Vera was interested in au courant fashion, something Leda wasn’t particularly, so she made a better shopping buddy for Amy than her mother.

  Leda went to her worktable and opened one of her sketchbooks. A vague idea had come to her the night before as she was on the verge of sleep. Now, pencil poised over the blank page, Leda tried to empty her mind of all extraneous noise, but it was not so simple. Vera’s news of her latest romantic fiasco had brought to the fore of Leda’s mind her own romantic situation—or lack thereof. She had been on her own since Charlie’s death not long after the birth of their child Amy, now twenty-one and soon to graduate from college. In odd moments, but only in odd moments, Leda felt a pang of loneliness. Growing old might not be a lot of fun and games, but if you were in a couple then at least you weren’t alone when arthritis made it difficult to get into and out of the car or gastrointestinal issues took much of the fun out of eating dinner out.

  Still, Leda knew that being on her own was a far better way to live her life than to spend it side by side with someone she didn’t love or who didn’t love her. She knew that without a shadow of a doubt.

  Shadows. Moody, crepuscular light. That idea that had come to her the night before just as she was about to fall asleep.... Leda began to draw.

  Chapter 2

  It was a beautiful spring day with temperatures reaching the low sixties for the first time since who could remember when. Purple and yellow crocuses had bravely begun to poke their little heads above ground and the rare daffodil had been spotted, a sure harbinger of better weather to come.

  Hayley Franklin, otherwise sensitive to beauty in all of its shapes and forms, was untouched by the scent of green wafting through the open window of her car. She was on her way to meet her boss, Judy Speer. Hayley had a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach. She knew that she had done nothing wrong. Still, when your employer summoned you to the office for a chat, things could not be good.

  Hayley stopped at a red light and immediately became aware that the guy behind the wheel in the car to her right was staring at her. She ignored him. She was used to the effect she had on men. The bolder sorts did more than stare. For the pigs, Hayley always had a few choice words that managed to shut them down. The unwanted attention drove her crazy.

  But what could she expect when she looked the way she did? Hayley was five feet, ten inches tall and slim, with long legs, a small waist, and what she had once been told was an “enviable bust.” The ridiculousness of that assessment had almost caused her to smack the woman who had said it to her—a body part enviable? An intellect, sure. An excellent moral character, yes. But a body part?

  The light changed and Hayley drove on, glad to be leaving the creep in the other car behind.

  For the past four years Hayley had been working for Squeaky Clean, a small local company that specialized in cleaning private homes. Judy Speers had started the business when her husband had run off with another woman, leaving her to support two little children on her own. Hayley’s pay was good, but the work could be exhausting and sometimes a bit stomach turning. A surprising number of otherwise civilized people didn’t seem to mind hair accumulating in drains or spatter marks on toilets and floors. And on occasion the people whose houses Hayley cleaned could be a bit high-and-mighty with her and the other women on her crew. Hayley resented this borderline callous treatment, but she always remained polite and took pride in doing her job thoroughly. After all, she had no choice but to keep quiet and carry on. She couldn’t afford to be fired.

  Hayley still occasionally babysat in the evenings, though when her father was in one of his bad states she stayed home. It wasn’t safe for her mother to be alone with Eddie Franklin when the demons were upon him. Her longtime clients understood that she couldn’t always be available and had never abandoned her for the simple fact that Hayley was great with children. And maybe also because they felt bad for Hayley and Nora Franklin. Hayley didn’t like being pitied, but when it came to an extra forty or fifty dollars now and again she could ignore the pity. You did what you had to do.

  And that was a lesson her mother had learned all too well. Nora Franklin was forty-seven years old. Photographs proved that she had once been attractive, but the joy in her smile was long gone, her once shiny hair was now dull, and the lines around her mouth were deeper than they should be.

  For the past nine years Nora had worked as a bagger at Hannaford, the local grocery chain. The job was steady and Nora was treated well. The only trouble arose when the family found themselves temporarily without a second car due to Eddie’s failure to make a loan payment or some other Eddie-instigated disaster. Then, if Hayley couldn’t drive her mother to and from work, Nora had to rely on a fellow Hannaford employee.

  Hayley’s mouth set in a grim line as she drove past Forest Road. The Franklin family had lost their home on that quiet little street to foreclosure when Hayley was ten. She didn’t know the details of how it had been taken. All she knew was that you couldn’t dwell on what had once been, good or bad. You had to keep facing ahead. You had to be ready for whatever was to come.

  Like more substandard living quarters. Since losing the house Hayley’s family had been living in a series of apartments in buildings that were once grand single-family homes but that had become generally run-down and broken up into strangely configured living spaces. One apartment had only a stall shower and no tub. One apartment was so small there was no room in the kitchen for a full-size fridge. Another apartment had an illegal second bedroom about the size of a large closet in which Hayley was forced to sleep. At least she had had some privacy. Her brother had slept on the old couch in the living room, his long legs draped over the couch’s arm.

  Hayley’s relationship with Brandon, six years her senior, was pretty much nonexistent. He had never been the least bit interested in being a big brother, and when he wasn’t ignoring Hayley he was torturing her in ways he thought were funny—tripping her when she came into a room, taking her stuff without asking permission, once even cutting her hair when she was asleep. Their mother had tried in vain to control him. Their father had paid no attention whatsoever to his son, other than to take him along to the pubs when Brandon came of age, where too often they ended up getting into fights with other patrons, which most often resulted in their being tossed out into the street, markedly worse for wear.

  No, there was none of that Hallmark domestic coziness in the Franklin residence, none of that sense of loyalty you were supposed to find in a family, the knowledge that no m
atter what happened, someone had your back. A long time ago Hayley had decided that happy, devoted families were the rarity after all, in spite of those holiday commercials that depicted laughing grandparents bonding with doting grandchildren while moms and dads looked on fondly.

  Dads. The sad truth was that Hayley had only one memory of “special” time alone with her father and she would never share it with anyone, not even her closest friend, Amy Latimer. It was too pathetic.

  Back when she was about eleven there was a popular show on network television called Prison Break. It probably wasn’t an appropriate show for a kid her age, but no one had protested when she had joined her father in front of the old TV. Her father would sit on the couch, right in the middle, his legs spread wide. Hayley would sit on the floor. He never spoke to her during the commercial breaks other than to tell her to get him another beer from the fridge. He never thanked her when she did. But he never told her to go away.

  A child would take what attention she could get and interpret it as affection. At least that was what Hayley had done, until one night Brandon came home about halfway through the show, boasting that he had scored thirty bucks. Eddie Franklin had turned to his son, eyes suddenly bright. Then he reached for the remote, turned off the TV, and taking his son’s arm had led him to the door. “Let’s go to Mike’s Tavern,” he had said.

  When her father and brother had left the apartment, Hayley continued to stare at the blank television screen. Deep down she supposed she had known all along that the weekly hour in front of the TV hadn’t meant anything to her father. Still, to have her intuition proved in so final a manner had hurt.

  Hayley pulled up outside the Squeaky Clean headquarters, located in a tiny strip mall, and went inside. Judy Speer was sitting behind the old card table that served as her desk. “Hayley,” she said. “Thanks for coming in. I hope it wasn’t inconvenient.”

  Hayley assured her that it wasn’t. She was anxious for Judy to say what she had to say. The sooner you knew bad news, the sooner you could start to figure out how to handle it.

  “I’ve decided to retire at the end of June,” Judy announced, “and I’m closing down the business. My daughter is due in July, and without the father around she’s going to need all the help she can get.” Judy shook her head. “It’s far from an ideal situation, but I know it’s my duty to do what I can for Charlotte and the baby.”

  Judy’s reason for retiring was one you simply couldn’t argue against, Hayley thought. Besides, the company was hers to do with what she wanted. Judy didn’t owe her anything. “I understand,” she said.

  “I’ve prepared a reference for you.” Judy handed Hayley a typed sheet of paper. “You’ll see I’ve given you a glowing recommendation. You’re the best employee I’ve ever had by far.”

  After thanking Judy for her consideration, Hayley took her leave. Grimly she got into her car. This was bad news. Similar jobs paid far less than what Hayley had been paid working for Judy. But she wasn’t really surprised at this turn of events. Nothing good ever happened no matter how hard she tried to make it happen. Hayley started the car and headed for home. If it could be called a home.

  Chapter 3

  “Where is it?” Amy asked her room. Her room did not reply, though if it could it might have said, “If you ever bothered to put things back where they belong you might have found your headband by now.”

  Clothes were strewn across the unmade bed, heaped on the rocking chair, and spilling out of the closet. The trash can overflowed with used tissues and makeup removal pads. An empty bottle of juice had been sitting on the windowsill for more than a week. A crumpled candy wrapper had been lying on the rug since Amy had dropped it there the night before. A slipper had gone missing over a month ago and had still not made an appearance.

  “There it is!” Amy cried, spotting the missing headband in a corner.

  Amy Latimer was five foot, three inches tall, neither overweight nor underweight. Her dark curly hair was unruly but not problematically, which was good because hair products were seriously expensive. Her eyes were dark like her father’s eyes had been. As for her personality, well, she was open and friendly and honest, and her mother was those things, too, though Leda Latimer was a better judge of character than Amy had ever been. In that way, too, Amy was like her father, happy to think everyone she met was as nice as she was. Not that Amy remembered her father, having been a baby when he died. But her mother and grandparents had told her all about Charlie Latimer, and Amy had loved hearing the stories.

  Amy went to her small desk, the one her mother had used as a child, and opened her laptop. Checking her bank statement was a task she dreaded. There always seemed to be a nasty surprise. This time was no different. Amy frowned. How could she have so little in her savings account? Okay, she had sort of lost track of her goal of putting away one hundred dollars every week—or had it been every two weeks?—but still. Her expenses weren’t huge. Her mother paid the mortgage and electric bill and whatever else needed to be paid to keep the house running. Sometimes Amy bought the groceries, but only sometimes. And her mother paid her tuition, too. Whatever money Amy made from a variety of part-time jobs was earmarked for day-to-day expenses, like coffee drinks and lunch at the college cafeteria and gas for her car, which her mother owned outright because it had once belonged to Amy’s grandfather, who had paid off the loan before he died.

  And then Amy remembered. She had bought that new leather wallet earlier in the month, hadn’t she? Not that she had really needed a new wallet but it was the prettiest shade of purple. And she had also bought those cool sandals in two colors, black and light brown, because you needed some things in multiple colors. You just did.

  “Darn,” Amy muttered. She was supposed to be saving for her move to Boston come September. She would be sharing an apartment in Allston with three girls she knew from school and working at a cool new clothing shop called The Aces. Her mother had promised to help cover the cost of the move, but the last thing Amy wanted was to take advantage of her. Maybe she could find two jobs for the summer. The question was, What sort of jobs would pay the most? Maybe she would ask around at school. Someone might have a brilliant idea of how to earn a lot of money in just a few months.

  School. Amy had almost forgotten that there was an assignment due the next day. She reached for the spiral notebook on the floor by the desk and began the search for a pen. It was ironic. Here she was, an average student at best, about to graduate with a degree from a four-year college while Hayley, always an excellent student, hadn’t even been allowed to complete a two-year course at the community college. Life, Amy thought, could be so unfair. Though it hadn’t really been unfair for her. In fact, life had been pretty darn good so far.

  Chapter 4

  “A bank robber?” Amy said, handing her mother a can of peeled tomatoes. “As in someone walks into a bank holding a gun and wearing a ski mask?”

  “I can’t be sure about the ski mask,” Leda admitted as she put the can into the cupboard and then reached into the second grocery bag. “But I’m pretty sure a gun is required.”

  Amy sighed. “Poor Vera. Why does this sort of thing always happen to her?”

  “I don’t know,” Leda admitted. “She’s so savvy in every other way, but when it comes to romantic partners, her discrimination fails. That or she falls in love with someone expert in fooling people into thinking she’s normal.”

  “Rats!” Amy exclaimed, holding up a box of cereal. “I got the wrong kind. I like the kind with raisins, not almonds.”

  Leda smiled. “Did you take a moment to actually read the box before tossing it into the cart?”

  “Probably not,” Amy said. Then her phone rang. “I have to get this, Mom.” Amy dashed from the kitchen, leaving her mother to continue the unpacking.

  And if Amy couldn’t be relied upon to read the label on a package of cereal, Leda thought, how was she going to handle living on her own (roommates didn’t count), reading bills carefully before pay
ing them and remembering to turn the oven off before going to bed? Leda sighed. Amy was a rather naïve young woman, still a virgin, impressionable, and prone to see only the positive and the obvious. And she was terrible with managing money. Rather, she was terrible about spending it before it could be managed. Leda continued to try explaining the basics of home economics and personal financial responsibility but to no avail.

  As for a direction in life, Amy had never expressed an interest in a particular career path. In fact, it almost seemed as if she didn’t much care what she was doing as long as she was making money and having a good time doing it. There was nothing wrong with that attitude, even if some people might consider such a life as directionless.

  Leda experienced a pang of guilt. There was no doubt in her mind that she was partly responsible for her daughter’s immaturity. She and her parents had coddled the poor fatherless child Amy had once been, and it had been a difficult habit to break. But now it was high time for Amy to grow up. So, while Leda was nervous about Amy’s moving to Boston in the fall, she was also supportive of her daughter’s decision. Amy needed to learn how to live an independent life.

  Amy returned to the kitchen as suddenly as she had gone. “Sorry, Mom,” she said. “That was Stacy. She wanted to remind me that Victoria’s Secret is having a major blow-out sale this weekend. We’re going to drive to South Portland on Saturday.”

  “What do you need at Victoria’s Secret?” Leda asked, hoping her tone didn’t betray the trepidation she felt. None of the items in that store were necessary, and all were overpriced. At least they were overpriced for the Latimers.

  Amy shrugged. “Nothing, really. But I’ll find something to buy.”

  Leda gathered the empty bags and began to fold them neatly, one into the other. So much, she thought, for her lessons in home economics.