Chương 6
Something in her expression made him pause.
“That’s my life,” she said.
“My children are my life.”
“That doesn’t mean you get to quietly search everybody connected to me.”
“I have an obligation to protect them.”
“And I have an obligation to decide who gets access to my personal life.”
“They’re one-year-olds, Evelyn.”
“I know exactly how old they are.”
“Then act like you understand the risk.”
The sentence landed badly.
He knew it immediately.
Evelyn became very still.
“Excuse me?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Yes, you did.”
“I meant—”
“You meant that you’re their father and I’m an employee, so your fear matters more.”
“That isn’t what I said.”
“You didn’t need to.”
She turned.
“Where are you going?”
“To finish my shift.”
“Evelyn.”
She stopped at the door.
“I did not leak the photograph.”
“I know.”
She turned back.
The answer surprised her.
Adrian looked exhausted.
“I know you didn’t.”
“Then why are we having this conversation?”
“Because I don’t know who did.”
For the first time, she heard what existed beneath the control.
Helplessness.
Not accusation.
She remained angry.
But anger became more complicated once fear entered the room.
“Then say that,” she said. “Don’t treat me like evidence.”
She left.
Security eventually discovered that the photograph had been taken by a freelance celebrity photographer who had seen the stroller leaving the townhouse from a parked car and followed at a distance.
No staff leak.
No conspiracy.
No betrayal.
Just somebody making money from strangers’ children.
Adrian apologized.
Badly.
He found Evelyn in the nursery while she folded tiny pink dresses.
“The security review is complete.”
“I heard.”
“The photographer followed you.”
“I heard.”
“You were right.”
Evelyn kept folding.
“That sounded painful.”
“It was.”
She looked at him.
He stood beside the crib with both hands in his pockets.
“I should not have investigated people in your personal life without telling you.”
“No.”
“I was trying to protect the girls.”
“I know.”
“That does not excuse it.”
Evelyn stopped folding.
That was better.
Adrian looked toward the babies sleeping nearby.
“I have spent a year assuming that if I control enough variables, nothing else catastrophic can happen.”
His voice stayed quiet.
“I’m beginning to understand that this is not a realistic operating principle.”
Evelyn stared at him.
“Did Denise tell you to say that?”
“No.”
“Margaret?”
“No.”
“Therapist?”
He looked offended.
“I can apologize without professional assistance.”
“Evidence suggests otherwise.”
His mouth moved.
A reluctant smile.
Then it disappeared.
“I am seeing someone.”
Evelyn blinked.
“A therapist?”
“Yes.”
“That’s good.”
“I don’t need approval.”
“I didn’t say you did.”
“I know.”
He looked embarrassed.
That made her strangely protective of the moment.
She returned to folding clothes.
After a while, Adrian picked up a small dress.
He attempted to fold it.
It looked terrible.
Evelyn glanced at it.
“What happened there?”
“It’s folded.”
“It has sleeves coming out of three sides.”
“There are only two sleeves.”
“Which makes your achievement more impressive.”
He unfolded it.
Tried again.
They stood side by side at the changing table folding baby clothes.
Nothing important happened for several minutes.
Evelyn liked those minutes.
The next complication arrived wearing pearls.
Madeline’s mother, Virginia Hale, visited on a Sunday afternoon.
Evelyn knew who she was before Margaret introduced them.
Virginia had Madeline’s eyes.
Not similar.
The same.
Dark blue, slightly downturned, giving her face a permanent expression of private skepticism.
She was sixty-two, elegant without seeming ornamental, and she studied Evelyn for several seconds too long.
“You’re the new nanny.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You were the maid.”
“Yes.”
Virginia’s gaze shifted toward Adrian.
He was holding Claire.
That changed her expression more than Evelyn’s employment history had.
“You’re holding her.”
Adrian stiffened.
“Yes.”
Virginia walked closer.
Claire looked at her.
Virginia touched one finger to the baby’s hand.
“She has Maddie’s mouth.”
Adrian looked away.
Virginia saw it.
Something old passed between them.
Not tenderness.
Not entirely hostility.
Grief sharpened by history.
Lunch was uncomfortable.
Virginia asked Evelyn about qualifications.
Evelyn answered.
Childcare coursework.
CPR certification.
Ongoing training with Denise.
Experience accumulated since accepting the role.
“Any formal experience before this?”
“No.”
Virginia looked at Adrian.
“You hired an untrained housemaid to care for four infants.”
Evelyn set down her fork.
Adrian did not.
“I hired someone the girls trust.”
“They’re babies.”
“Yes.”
“They trust anyone who makes funny noises.”
“That isn’t true,” Evelyn said.
Virginia looked at her.
Evelyn continued calmly.
“They’re cautious with unfamiliar adults. Emma warms up fastest. Sophie usually needs ten or fifteen minutes. Lucy watches facial expression. Claire cries if someone approaches too quickly.”
Virginia’s eyebrows lifted slightly.
Evelyn picked up her fork.
“But funny noises help.”
Adrian coughed into his napkin.
Virginia stared at him.
“Are you laughing?”
“No.”
“You are.”
“I swallowed incorrectly.”
“Apparently.”
Later, Evelyn found Virginia alone in the nursery.
She was standing beside the rocking chair.
The gold bracelet lay on the dresser.
Adrian had left it there.
Virginia touched it.
“Maddie hated this chair.”
Evelyn smiled faintly.
“I heard.”
“She wanted a blue one.”
“He said Queens.”
Virginia looked at her.
“You talk about her?”
“Sometimes.”
Something softened.
Then hardened again.
“My daughter died in this room.”
“I know.”
“Adrian was alone with her.”
Evelyn felt the sentence change the air.
Virginia looked toward the crib.
“He called me at one fourteen in the morning. I remember the time because I stared at it afterward. One fourteen. As if understanding the number would change something.”
She folded her arms.
“I blamed him.”
Evelyn said nothing.
“I still do sometimes.”
“For what?”
Virginia’s eyes flashed.
“For not noticing. For not saving her. For being alive.”
The last part was barely audible.
She looked ashamed of it.
“I know that isn’t fair.”
Evelyn leaned against the dresser.
“Knowing something isn’t fair doesn’t always stop you from feeling it.”
Virginia’s eyes moved to her.
“No.”
They stood quietly.
Then Virginia said, “The first nanny didn’t quit because of the schedule.”
May you like
Evelyn’s attention sharpened.
“She quit because of me.”
