It was four o’clock in the afternoon as Finley gazed out the window of the plane. She still couldn’t quite believe she was going to be in California in another hour. So much had happened since the night she gave her notice to Alan Livingstone.
So. Much.
In the end, because of what Alan had done and said, no one, not even her own family, believed her except her friend Marina and Liz at Holford. God bless the two of them. If she hadn’t had their support, she’d have gone mad.
He had produced “evidence” for that she’d abused Giles. The evidence was obviously fake because she’d done nothing but taken the best of care of him, even loved him. There were photographs of the diaper rash he’d caused himself and a diary he’d had supposedly kept of his “suspicions” about Finley.
There was also the not so small matter of the prime minister taking his side. When Rowena issued a statement that she believed her husband, Finley regretted not going to her in the first place. She should have done the courageous thing instead of the cowardly thing. But the damage was done now. The entire country believed Finley was a child abuser. She'd been found guilty in the court of popular opinion and she couldn't escape it. She’d kept waiting for the police to knock on the door.
She now understood that old adage of not judging a person until you’d walked a mile in their shoes. Women who had been victimized by a man in power didn’t speak out because resistance was futile, as the Borg said on “Star Trek.” If she came out now and accused Alan of sexually harassing her, people would assume she was making it all up in response to his accusations. There was a scale of justice with an anvil on Alan’s side and a feather on her side. Even if she spoke up and told her story, it wouldn’t even jiggle the scale, let alone balance it.
What made it even worse was her family deemed her behavior, not courageous, but short-sighted.
Both her mother and Delia had told her she should have taken advantage of Alan’s interest. And it hadn’t mattered that he’d harassed her and threatened her or that she didn’t find him even the least bit attractive. From their viewpoint, she’d finally caught a man’s attention and she’d let him slip away. But even with her dismal dating history, she couldn’t see _______
For weeks, every time she tried to venture out, she was set upon by the paparazzi. They converged on her like a rabid wolf pack, shouting questions, shoving their microphones and phones and cameras in her face. They had neither shame nor a modicum of respect for her person. One reporter had tried to get into her car. Luckily, she'd locked the door before he could open it.
In the past, she’d mocked celebrities who wore hats and sunglasses to disguise who they were. It had seemed pretentious to her, as if they were seeing attention rather than shunning it. Poor me. It’s so hard being famous. Now she realized they were doing their best to live their lives, to escape being under the microscope for a little while. But at least they had chosen fame. She’d had it dumped on her through no fault of her own.
Now, here she coming to America. Alan had followed through on his threat to make her unemployable but somehow, Liz had found her a position in the States and Finley hadn’t asked questions. She couldn’t imagine having to throw away the three years of her life she’d spent at Holford and beggars couldn’t be choosers.
She didn’t know much about her new boss. She knew he was a professional hockey player with a newborn. Finley looked forward to caring for a newborn. Infants were clean slates, as were the parents, if it was their first child. There were no nasty habits to undo, like whining or throwing tantrums, or, more importantly, giving into them.
He also had a stalker threatening him and his daughter. Finley was fine with that. Although she was no longer a Holford nanny, she had still graduated first in her class. She’d also aced the SFPs—special forces portions—of the curriculum.
“Ladies and gentlemen, we’re beginning our descent into San Diego. Please return your seat backs to their upright position and stow away any large electronic devices. Thank you.”
Finley had been calm during the entire eleven-hour flight, but now that the plane was about to land, she felt anxiety begin to churn in her stomach. All the worst things she’d heard about Americans entered her thoughts. They were loud and obnoxious. Most of them owned guns and weren’t shy about defending their homes with them. They walked around all the time crowing about religion and how wonderful America was. And they were slovenly and fat.
What if her new boss was like that? What if she’d made a horrible mistake?
He probably wasn’t fat, not if he was a professional athlete, but he could be slovenly which meant she’d have to look up her notes on how to deal with a client who expected her to clean the house. Still, she’d do her best to remain professional and teach her young charge manners, no matter how rude her papa was.
As she deplaned, she braced herself for the worst.
Walk tall, she told herself. Smile and keep calm. If all else fails, fake it.
She entered the terminal and saw a tall, rough-looking unshaven man holding a sign with her name on it. He had a baby carrier hooked on his arm, which made his bicep flex rather impressively. He must be Jason Locke, her new employer.
An older woman stood next to him, a smile of anticipation and welcome on her face. Finley assumed she was his mother. They had the same mouth, the same deep brown eyes. But the woman was smiling broadly. Jason was not.
She stopped in front of them and held out her hand. “I’m Finley Pigott-Smith,” she said with a cheery smile. She had found most people would return a smile if given one.
Jason apparently wasn’t one of those people.
Even so, he was a man in his prime. His lean body was fit and muscular but not overly so. Except for his bum and thighs which were spectacular and mighty. She supposed all that skating provided him a lot of opportunity to develop those muscles. She wondered if he bought his pants off the rack or if they had to be custom-made. Or maybe, she thought with a giggle, he wore stretch pants.
He was handsome too. Dark hair, deep-set brown eyes and a strong jaw. He had lines around his eyes and mouth that suggested he did smile, just not today, apparently. His five o’clock shadow suggested, should he want to, he could grow an impressive beard. A day or two’s worth of stubble always revved her engines and made her want to scrape her fingernails lightly across it.
“Jason Locke.” He tucked the sign under his arm and shook her hand. “This is my mother, Glenna.”
“Such a pleasure.” Beaming at her, Glenna handed her a tiny American flag. “Welcome to America.”
“Thank you. This is quite sweet of you.” Finley took the flag, not sure what to do with it. She ended up tucking it into her carry-on. “This must be Aria,” she said turning to the infant in the carrier.
The baby wore a long-sleeved blue shirt decorated with cheerful yellow and pink hearts and yellow leggings. Sucking vigorously on a dummy, she looked at Finley with wide brown eyes the color of coffee with the tiniest splash of cream.
“Hello, my darling,” Finley said to her.
Aria turned her face away. Undeterred, Finley turned to the big hockey player. He seemed much bigger now that she was standing in front of him. “Mr. Locke, how would you like your daughter to address me?”
He looked at her as if she were daft. “Ah, Aria can’t talk.”
“Yes, but we must remember she is always listening and learning, so I want to introduce myself to her properly.”
Well, that sounded a bit pretentious. No help for it now. She’d already said it.
“Once she’s able to talk, I guess she can call you Finley. I’ll call you that too, if that’s okay with you. And you can call me Jason. No more Mr. Locke stuff.”
“That’s perfectly all right. Miss Pigott-Smith is a bit of a mouthful anyway.” She tickled the baby on her tummy. “I’m Finley, Aria. Finley. You and I are going to have such a lovely time together.”
“Finley,” Glenna said, “I adore your uniform. You look like you stepped out of a children’s book.”
“Thank you. I like it too.”
It made her look the part and stiffened her spine a bit. Moving away from everything she knew had been daunting. At least with her uniform on, the pride she felt from graduating from the premier English institution for early childcare infused her with more confidence than she could summon up at the moment.
After collecting Finley’s two bags, Glenna insisted on rolling one of them. Jason took the other. It was a short walk to the parking lot where he stopped in front of a shiny dark blue Honda Odyssey.
“Why don’t I strap in the baby?” Finley suggested.
“No,” Jason said quickly. “I’ll do it.” He must have registered her slight flinch at his sharp tone because he said more calmly, “You’ve had a long flight. Just get in and relax.”
As she got in behind the driver’s seat, she took a moment to absorb the fact that cars and driving were topsy-turvy here. She had an International Driver’s Permit and had exceeded expectations in the defensive driving course, but that was with British rules of the road. Here, she was terrified she’d go up the wrong side of the street and cause a collision. She hoped she might be able to get on by walking or using public transportation. If the weather was as nice as she expected, she planned to go out walking with Aria as much as possible.
When Jason was done loading her luggage in the back, he came around to show her how to strap in the baby carrier.
"You've probably done this kind of thing before,” he said, “but it doesn't hurt to get a refresher. Let's pretend the base of the car seat hasn't been installed yet..."
He then proceeded to give her a very thorough how-to—how to attach the base with the seat belt, how to tighten the strap, how to make sure that it was securely fastened. Then, after all that, he removed the seatbelt from the base.
"But you don’t actually need to use the seatbelt,” he said. “Every vehicle built after 2002 has a latch system. The latch system straps on this seat are here and if you look, you can see these little plastic buttons. That's where you connect the straps. Make sure you hear them click. It’s important to hear the click."
Something about the way Jason was explaining things was rubbing her the wrong way. He was talking to her as if she wasn't very bright. Maybe it was the overly slow cadence. Maybe it was the way he kept pausing for confirmation that she understood. Whatever it was, it grated on her and she fixed a bland smile on her face.
Glenna who was playing a game on her phone. Maybe she was accustomed to his mansplaining.
Minutes later, when he finally placed the carrier into the base, Finley gave an inward sigh. He was a bit of a wanker, wasn’t he? Was he going to overly explain every little thing about the baby’s care? Why hire a professional if you didn’t expect that professional to be sufficiently trained?
Feeling cheeky, she said, “Would you mind going over that one more time?”
Glenna snorted softly as Jason looked at her incredulously.
“I’m kidding.” She gave him a jaunty wink. “I’ve got it. I’m a quick study.”
His scowl was back. “You sure?”
“I’m positive.”
After a moment of direct eye contact, he removed the carrier from the base and said, “Show me.”
She immediately revised her earlier assessment. He wasn’t a bit of a wanker, he was a full wanker. He’d effectively just accused her of lying.
Irritated, she gestured for him to remove the carrier after which she popped the base free of its latches. Then, almost word for word, she parroted back his instructions but without the pauses.
Glenna said, “Brava.”
Jason said nothing. He just got behind the wheel. But Finley felt vindicated.
A few minutes later, they got onto got onto the Interstate. It was packed with so many cars that they were only going maybe 20 kph.
“Is there always this much traffic?” she asked.
“It’s rush hour,” Jason said.
“I should have chosen a more convenient arrival time.”
“Don’t be silly,” Glenna said. “We’re in no hurry. I’ve got a Mississippi pot roast keeping warm in the Crockpot. It’ll keep until we get home. Are you hungry?”
“Famished.”
“Good. I made a lot. Jason has a big appetite. I also whipped up some garlic mashed potatoes and a green salad. Oh, look!” She pointed out the window. “See that building? That’s where Jason plays.”
Finley saw a large silvery structure whose walls looked like they were made of undulating sheets of brushed aluminum. The way the sheets were cut reminded her of ocean waves. Some of the players’ faces were displayed on several large banners. She recognized none of them, but expected they would soon be familiar. Hollander. MacDonald. Two of them said Griffin. She surmised they were related.
“That’s the Mesa Arena,” Jason said. “And over there is Petco Park where the Padres play.”
“Play what?” she asked.
He looked at her in the rearview mirror. “Baseball.”
“Have you ever seen a baseball game?” Glenna asked.
“No. I’ve never seen a hockey game either.”
“We’ll have to fix that,” Glenna said.
“No, we won’t,” Jason said. “It’s too loud for Aria at the arena.”
“She can watch on TV, Jason,” his mother said. “You know, it’s that thing they invented for people who can’t go to see live games.”
Finley smiled. She liked Glenna.
For a while, she answered Glenna’s questions about her flight, what the weather was like in England right now, if she’d ever met any of the royal family, if she drank coffee… Jason remained quiet. When the baby stirred, Finley reached out and rubbed her tummy and cooed softly at her.
Eventually, they turned onto what Glenna said was the Coronado Bridge which connected ____________. As if Mother Nature arranged it, the sun was setting on the water and Finley was struck at how beautiful it was. The sky stretched into forever and the sea sparkled is if a net of diamonds had been cast over it.
The neighborhood was quite grand. It reminded her of Beverly Hills—at least what she’d seen of Beverly Hills in the movies. Lots of mansions, manicured front yards, flashy cars motoring down well-maintained streets. Jason turned into the driveway of a large white house with black and grey accents. A remote opened the garage door where she saw a luxury SUV in a very clean and organized interior space.
“Here we are, home sweet home,” Glenna said. “I’m going to check on the roast.”
“I can get the baby, if you’ll get my bags,” Finley said.
After a moment’s hesitation, Jason grunted in agreement and went to pop the hatch, but she knew he was keeping an eye on her.
Overprotective much? she thought.
Aria started fussing and Finley checked her nappy.
"Aria needs a nappy change,” she said.
“Okay, let's get your luggage upstairs. Then I’ll change her.”
He removed Aria from the baby carrier then grabbed her big bag and left her with her carry-on and the smaller suitcase.
As they walked through the house, he pointed out the various rooms and she was immediately struck by how spacious everything was. And the view... The Pacific Ocean was right there. Although it was almost dark, she could see a wide expanse of sand which meant the tide was out. She could walk out the front door and be on the shore a few minutes later. It was unreal. This property had to be worth millions. How much did hockey players make? Enough for him to own this house, those cars and hire a fulltime nanny for his child, that was how much.
"This is your room,” he said once they were upstairs. “But if you don't like it, once my mom goes home, you can take that one across the hall instead. That one has the view but this one has a bigger closet."
He left her suitcase just inside her room and she did the same with everything she was carrying.
"And this is the nursery," he said.
The room was quite a contrast to Giles'. The Livingstone nursery had been a study in traditional decor. Strong patterned wallpaper, British landscapes on the walls. Aubusson carpets.
Aria's room was bright and cheerful with cream colored walls and beautiful wood furniture. A rocking chair sat in one corner along with, strangely, a microwave and small refrigerator. Glenna had said Jason had a large appetite. Did he need to have a food supply upstairs? If so, why was it in the baby's room?
As Jason expertly changed the baby's nappy, he showed her where all the supplies were—the wipes, nappies, rash ointment.
“Her pants are wet,” he said. “Would you mind getting me another pair? Second drawer from the top.”
Finley opened the drawer and saw a large selection of leggings and pants. She pulled out some pink ones and handed them to him.
“Thanks,” he said, tossing the dirty ones in a laundry basket. “Here we go, sweetheart. Nice and dry.”
The quiet tones with which he spoke to Aria made it clear that he loved her very much. Seeing him interacting with her warmed Finley’s heart and made her wonder if she'd judged him too harshly before.
Dinner was an interesting and delicious affair. Mississippi pot roast turned out to be shredded beef in a rich brown gravy. The meat was fork tender and the potato mash, creamy and rich.
"Glenna, this is delicious. Is this something Mississippi is famous for?"
"You know, I’m not really sure. Maybe? All I know is, it's a cinch to make. The Crockpot does all the work. Do you have Crockpots in England?"
"We do."
“Do you like to cook? Is cooking part of your duties?”
“That’s one of the things we’ll need to establish. I do like cooking and I have cooked for the family in the past.”
She glanced at Jason, who nodded. “That’d be good. I can cook too, but if you take that off my hands…”
"That's well within my job description. We'll need to talk about your nutritional requirements. I imagine as an athlete you've a regimen you follow."
"If you just cook healthy food, we should be good."
As if she planned on cooking unhealthy food. Another point in the wanker column.
"Does your wife not cook?" she asked. He was wearing a wedding ring, but she hadn't seen any sign of another woman in the house except Glenna.
"No," he said.
She waited for more information, but none came. The silence that followed was definitely tense.
Glenna finally said, "Brit never cooked much."
Cooked as in past tense.
"I'm sorry. Is Mrs. Locke no longer with us?"
Liz at Holford hadn't given her much personal information about him. Was Jason a widower? The baby was only two months old. If Mrs. Locke had passed away it had to be recently and no wonder he was so surly. People processed grief differently. And wasn’t anger one of the five stages?
Jason let out a harsh laugh. "That's one way of putting it." With that, he stood up and gathered Aria in his arms. “I’ll take care of her for the night. You’re on duty tomorrow morning at 7. See you then.” And he left the room.
Finley blinked in surprise. "I don’t understand.”
Glenna shook her head. "I’m sorry. Brit—his wife, who is still living—is a sore subject. She packed her things and left them."
"Oh, my."
"It happened about a month ago and it came as a complete surprise."
"Is she...coming back?"
“Well, that’s the thing. Jason got a letter from her lawyer this morning saying she’s filing for divorce.”
That explained a lot.
"I'm sorry to hear that.”
“Honestly, it might be for the best.”
“Why is that?”
Glenna took her time answering. “Their marriage has been on the rocks for a while now and the baby was only going to make things harder. I’d anticipated the process to take a while, but Brit being Brit made a decision and that’s that. Better to rip off the Band-Aid and get it over with. It just breaks my heart that Aria will be essentially motherless.”
Finley already had a great fondness for the baby and said, “I will do my utmost to take care of and love her until she gets a new mother, and maybe even afterward.”
Glenna’s eyes filled. “Thank you, Finley. That’s a comfort.”
“It’s my job.”
"Anyway, long story short, it will just be you three in the house after Saturday. I have to go back home."
"Where do you live?"
"Frisco, Texas."
"Texas. Here’s what I’ve heard about Texas. It’s full of cowboys, guns and oil. And everyone drives a truck.”
Glenna laughed.
“I also heard that all your food is deep fried.”
“Not everything. Well, except for at the state or county fair. At the fair, you name it, they fry it.”
“What is the oddest fried food you’ve eaten?”
“Fried Coke,” she replied.
“The fizzy drink? How can fry a liquid?”
“It’s a bit of a misnomer. A misnomer is a name for something that isn’t quite correct.”
Apparently, Jason came by his habit of overexplaining honestly.
“They deep-fry balls of batter with Coke in it and top it with whipped cream and Coke syrup and a cherry on top. It’s actually very good. You’ll have to come visit me when the fair is in town. I think you’d like Texas. It is a special place, big and bold and brash, but at the same time filled with friendly people who go out of their way to help a neighbor or friend."
“I’d like that,” Finley said. “I’d like to visit all of the States someday.”
“That would be quite an accomplishment. Maybe, in the future, Jason would let you accompany him on a road trip or two. Not all the states have NHL teams, but the ones that do, he visits at least twice a season.”
Finley said, “That sounds like fun,” but it actually sounded like torture. She wasn’t at all sure she liked Jason and strongly suspected she would end up wanting to spend as much time as possible away from him.
Glenna insisted on cleaning up so that Finley could get to bed. Although they’d just finished supper, at home it was past midnight and she was knackered. As she unpacked, again she was struck by how much space there was. The closet alone…she shook her head. She couldn’t imagine having enough clothing to fill even half of it.
In the bathroom, she found a small basket of scented amenities. The Livingstones had provided similar luxuries when she’d moved in.
Hoping this was not a bad omen, she unscrewed some sugar scrub and it smelled so heavenly—a lovely mixture of orange peel and ginger—that she decided to take a shower before bed. As the water heated, she found herself thinking of Jason. He didn’t speak much, unless, of course, he was giving directions. That lecture about how to attach the baby carrier had been over the line. Then, on top of that, he’d insulted her comprehension skills and challenged her to prove she’d understood. Infuriating. The next time he behaved that way, she’d tell him she didn’t appreciate being patronized. Best to begin as you wished to go on. It was easier that way than letting him get away with it for weeks and then objecting.
But his gruffness disappeared completely when he was talking to Aria. She couldn’t completely hate a man who acted so tenderly around his daughter. Watching him with her warmed her heart quite a bit. If she were perfectly honest, the sight of him warmed other parts of her as well.
Once the water was hot, she stepped under the spray. It felt like heaven. All the stresses of her travel seemed to melt away as she massaged the scrub into her skin. The fresh citrusy fragrance filled the steamy air and when she was finished her skin felt soft and supple. She changed into her pajamas and slid between the soft sheets, sighing with pleasure as her body relaxed, supine at last.
She could at least be glad that no one in America seemed to know about the scandal she’d been embroiled, just as Marina had assured her. Thank goodness. If it had, Jason would never have let her near his daughter, let alone hire her.
But just because he wasn’t aware of the scandal now didn’t mean he wouldn't learn of it by happenstance sometime in the future. She didn’t like keeping a secret like this from her employer but Marina made her promise to wait a month before telling him the whole story.
“That way he can get to know you first,” Marina had said. “Gain his trust, become invaluable to him and then tell him all of Great Britain thinks you’re a child abuser.”
“Not funny.”
“My point is, if you tell him too early, he’ll probably sack you, so be smart.”
“It seems dishonest not to tell him,” Finley said.
“You are going to tell him. Later. So it’s not dishonest. Now tell your conscience to piss off or you’ll muck things up.”
She knew Marina was right, especially after seeing how devoted Jason was to his daughter. She would wait a few weeks or however long it took for her to prove herself trustworthy and then she’d tell him what happened with the Livingstones. Hopefully, he was the type of man who gave a person the benefit of the doubt. He would weigh the evidence of her devotion to Aria with his own eyes against the tabloid’s baseless accusations. He would see that she would never intentionally harm one of her charges. All she had to do was do her job to the utmost of her abilities and pray that luck was on her side.