“WHAT IF SHE’S MEAN?”
“What if she’s ugly?”
“I want Marin.”
“Or Angelica.”
“Or Carla back.”
Sitting between his two kids on a bench down by the marina the next morning, Adam waited for the ferry to dock. “Look.” He put one arm around each child. “I know this is hard, but we need to give her a chance, okay?”
Neither said anything.
“You’ll be in school all day and I’ll be home right after supper, so at most you’ll be spending a couple hours a day with the new nanny.”
“Except for weekends,” Julia muttered.
“I do have to work Saturdays, but I promise to spend every Sunday with you.”
“You really promise?”
From now on he was keeping his promises. “I can’t promise that I won’t have to do some work, but I can promise it’ll be just us three on Sundays.”
Stephanie Moore, the new nanny, had requested Sundays off and if she was like Carla, she’d spend any free time she had during the evenings and on weekends to herself in her own quarters. They’d likely see neither hide nor hair of her at least one day each week, giving everyone a break.
The ferry docked, and given Mirabelle’s current state of flux there were no tourists disembarking, only a few locals returning from the mainland. Spotting the new nanny was easy. A medium height young woman with a pleasant, somewhat broad face and long, sandy-brown hair, she came off the ferry toting two rolling suitcases behind her. Dressed in tan wool pants and a belted brown plaid jacket with a hood, she looked well prepared for the cold autumn day and awfully mature for her age.
“Stephanie?” Adam approached her.
“Yes.”
“I’m Adam Harding.” He held out his hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“Good to meet you, too.”
Adam put his hands on his children’s backs, but didn’t urge them forward. They’d advance at their own pace. “This is Julia and Wyatt.”
Julia’s brow furrowed and Wyatt frowned. This was worse than the first day of school.
“Well, I for one can’t wait to get to know you both.” Stephanie gave them a big smile. “I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you two from Carla.”
Mentioning Carla. Good move.
“You talked to her?” Julia asked.
“I most certainly did. On the phone. She assured me that I would love being your new nanny.”
“How is she?”
“She sounded all right, but her mother isn’t well. She needs Carla now more than ever.”
Ice officially broken. “Well, should we go home?” Adam asked. He took the young woman’s suitcases and held back, letting her get acquainted with the kids as they walked up the hill. The entire time, she kept the kids talking, answering questions about school. Carla had been quiet. Stephanie, on the other hand, seemed quite talkative. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a difficult adjustment, after all.
“WELL, THERE SHE IS,” Angelica murmured as she stood at the patio door glancing outside. “The new nanny.”
“That so?” Feigning disinterest, Marin kept her hand on her paintbrush and the brush on the paper in an attempt to keep her focus on her latest illustration for Missy’s book. The Harding children were no concern of hers. Absolutely no concern whatsoever.
“She’s younger than I expected.”
Marin pulled more color onto her brush, deepening a few shadows of the trees on a shoreline scene.
“She looks so…stern.”
Determinedly, Marin rinsed out her brush and loaded up with another color. Red. She needed red on the sail of the boat on the water.
“Oh, for heaven’s sake,” her mother said, clearly exasperated. “Let the boy do it himself.”
At that, Marin glanced up. “Do what? What are you talking about?”
“Oh, it doesn’t matter.” Angelica waved Marin’s concern away. “I’m sure you couldn’t care less.”
“All right, I’ll bite.” Marin dropped her brush into the water and stalked into the kitchen. “What’s going on?”
She went to stand next to her mother and together they looked out into the backyard, analyzing the scene. The new nanny, a surprisingly young woman, was playing some sort of a game with the kids that seemed to combine memorizing with calisthenics.
“They’ve been in school all day.” Marin couldn’t seem to take her eyes off what was happening. “You’d think she could give them a bit of a break.”
“I’m sure she’s perfectly capable.”
Marin turned away from the backyard and returned to her painting. Maybe now was the time to start that stormy scene she’d been putting off since she first started Missy’s Lake Superior book. Capable was one thing. Loving and caring was quite another.
“MARIN, CAN I COME IN?” That was Missy at the door.
“Yeah,” Marin said, straightening. She stretched her stiff back. She’d been bent over this painting for hours, and it was almost time for the kids to get out of school. She still hadn’t gotten used to not having to walk down to pick them up.
Missy stood in the doorway. “Looks like you set up an art studio in here.”
“Yeah. Basically.” She’d pushed the dining room table against the wall, covered it with several drop cloths to protect the wood, and moved all of the chairs into the basement. Then she’d put up makeshift shelving along one wall with all of her supplies.
“Can I see what you’re working on?”
Fairly happy with the way this picture was turning out, Marin shrugged.
Missy stepped into the room and within seconds she was grinning. “Oh, my God, you’ve captured the stormy chapter perfectly.”
“You think?”
“Marin, it’s beautiful.”
“Thanks.” But her mind wasn’t on her painting.
“You don’t like it?”
“No, I like it. I just…” Marin dropped her brush into the water. “How did you know you wanted children?” She blurted the question out before giving it a second thought.
Missy raised her eyebrows. “Hmm. I don’t remember ever not wanting them.”
“Oh, come on. You always knew you were going to be a mother?”
“It’s not that. I simply didn’t think much about it at all. Until I met Jonas.” At that, her expression softened. “Having children with him seemed like the most natural thing in the world. I never questioned it.” She sat in the only chair in the room and frowned. “And then when I miscarried that first time and I thought I’d lost Jonas, too, having children was the only thing I wanted. A family. I missed you. Artie, Max, Mom. Even Dad sometimes.”
“Why didn’t you come home?”
“I didn’t know how, and I was already here on Mirabelle by then. Everyone here became my new family.” She reached out for Marin’s hand. “It wasn’t you, you know. I just didn’t know how to be me around our family.”
Missy always had been different from the rest of them. Soft-spoken, kind and generous, not a competitive bone in her body. Marin, on the other hand, had been assertive enough for both of them. She’d had to be first in everything. Second just hadn’t been good enough.
“I used to think you were a sissy,” Marin said, smiling. “Now I know you’re stronger than any of the rest of us.”
“Well, that’s not true. We’re just different.”
If nothing else came of her extended stay here on Mirabelle, Marin would be more than satisfied at having forged a new, adult relationship with Missy.
“So do these questions have anything to do with you and a certain neighbor?” Missy asked.
“You know I’d be lying if I said no. If Adam didn’t have children, I think I’d be all over him. But he does.” She sighed and decided to come right out with it. “Weren’t you ever afraid that by focusing so much of your life around kids that you would lose yourself?”
“How do you mean?”
“The way Mom did. While we were growing up, she seemed to live solely for us. She was our chauffeur, cook, laundress, counselor, tutor, coach and secretary all rolled into one. I don’t ever remember her not being there if I needed something. What does that say about her life?”
“That she had pride in being a mother. That she took her job very seriously.”
“Or that she had no life of her own.”
“Marin, that’s unfair.”
“Why? What was the point in her getting an English degree, anyway? Of ever working for that publishing house to begin with, if she was just going to throw it all away to stay home with us? She lost her career. Her life. For us.”
“We were her life by her choice. She didn’t lose herself. She gave herself. There’s a difference.”
“The end result is the same.”
“Maybe so, but not the attitude. I would drop anything if my boys needed me. If one of them was sick, I’d stay up all night caring for him. I’d stay home from the shop. I’d cook his favorite foods. I’d do whatever he needed to get well. Because it’s what I’ve chosen to do. Taking care of them makes me happy. But I’ve also chosen to keep Whimsy, my gift shop, because it’s important to me. I’ve continued to make jewelry because I enjoy the process. And I’ve picked up writing children’s books because it’s fun. Do I seem like I’ve lost myself to you?”
Unconvinced, Marin grunted. “Look what Mom is going through right now with Dad. How do you know that won’t be you twenty years from now?”
“Because Jonas is not our father.” Missy smiled. “And there’s no doubt in my mind that if you choose to become a mother, you’ll put everything you have into being the best mother possible because you never do anything halfway.”
“Maybe that’s exactly what I’m afraid of.”
“I’M TIRED,” WYATT GROANED. “Do I have to vacuum?”
“At least you don’t have to clean the bathroom,” Julia muttered. “Like me.”
The office door wide-open, Adam sat behind his desk listening to the Saturday afternoon goings-on in the main part of the house. He was uncertain as to what exactly amounted to age-appropriate chores for a five- and seven-year-old, but the duties Stephanie had them doing seemed a bit of a stretch.
“As soon as we’re finished with Saturday cleaning,” Stephanie said, “we can go outside and play.”
It was an unseasonably warm November day with the temperature hitting close to fifty degrees, so Adam would’ve rather they skipped cleaning entirely in favor of enjoying the weather, but a little time outside was better than nothing.
“Play by ourselves or with you?” Julia grumbled under her breath.
“Excuse me? Did you have something to say to me, Julia?”
“You make us play your games, and I don’t like them. I wish you’d just…I wish you’d die.”
Adam closed his eyes and sighed. Oh, Julia, baby.
“That comment, young lady, was out of line. You may go to your room until suppertime.”
That was at least three hours from now. Julia’s feet pounded sullenly up the steps and a moment later her bedroom door slammed shut.
“I wish you’d die, too,” Wyatt said. Obviously, the kid was no dummy. Get out of chores? Why not?
“To your room, too, Wyatt.”
More pounding. More slamming.
Adam stood and went out into the kitchen where Stephanie was scrubbing the kitchen sink. “Stephanie?”
She turned toward him.
“Can I talk to you a minute?”