2. Jessica

2

JESSICA

I had never been hired on the spot before. Not for any job, ever. Not even when I worked as a shop girl in various stores in the mall. They always had to review my information and think about it. It made sense when I was in the corporate world, but in high school? My resume basically listed where I went to school and what my last job had been. It took up half a page at most. It wasn't as if they needed to verify my college degree or whether I had actually worked for the State Bank in mortgage financing, or why I was looking to advance my career.

Of course, job hunting in the corporate world had been all about background checks and education and employment verification. And then I managed to hitch my wagon to a man I thought was a shooting star. He took me with him, and my career launched. Only, it turned out he was a disaster. He was nuclear waste on legs, the very definition of toxic.

When the agency agreed to take me on as a nanny, I had gone through all of the hiring process backflips for them—the job confirmations, background check, criminal check, I had to get fingerprinted, tested for a handful of diseases, and had many inoculations so I didn't pass anything along. They told me to expect to go through at least the background check when being considered by any family that might shortlist me for hiring. It was all understandable, and I wouldn't have expected anything less.

So when the insanely good-looking Dylan Anderson directed me to take his sleepy son out of the back of his car and carry the boy inside, I was completely taken aback when he offered me the job as soon as I walked in the door. I still held the half-asleep Max when I accepted the position.

I was relieved. I desperately needed the placement.

"How soon can you start?" Mr. Anderson had asked.

I wanted to blurt out immediately. I was running out of emergency funds and didn't want to spend all of my money on hotel rooms until I got a new live-in position. Hotels in the area were ridiculously expensive, and the police had been cracking down on people sleeping in their cars. Also, finding a place where it was safe to sleep in my car was getting harder and harder to do.

"How soon are you looking to fill the position?" I tried to sound professional and not desperate.

"Immediately. And Max likes you. What do you say?"

"Yes, but I should probably get the details before we sign any agreements. I mean, I don't even know what your expectations are, and you are aware the agency sent me with the expectation that this is a live-in situation?"

Max had been in my arms the entire time. When he woke up a bit more and held himself more upright, I more than half expected him to squirm to be let down. He didn't. He didn't even whine and reach out for his father. He seemed content looking at me and playing with my hair.

"Max had a rough afternoon. He's typically a bit more independent. Let me know if he gets too heavy," Dylan said.

I was going to have to remember to call him Mr. Anderson. Dylan was a bit too familiar. Even though I wouldn't object to calling that man by even more familiar terms.

Max was slight for a four-year-old, at least compared to the ones I had dealt with previously. "No, I can manage. He's a sweet little boy."

"He is. He can be shy, but he can also be rambunctious."

"That can be said for most four-year-olds. He's four, right? That's what the agency said."

"Yes, four. You didn't tell me how soon you would be able to start," he reminded me.

"The agency said this was for an immediate vacancy. I guess your last nanny left you rather suddenly?" I asked. I really should know why she up and left before accepting the job, but there was something very comforting about this house and being in this man's presence. Or maybe it was Max. He seemed like a little boy I could take care of.

"She did. I have my theories, but all she said was that it wasn't working out for her, and she packed her things," he explained.

I followed him as he led me through the house. We walked up a set of split level steps until we were on the upper level. I followed him until he opened the door. "This is the nursery."

It was the size of a very small living room with a large screen TV, scaled down furniture, and it was full of toys.

Mr. Anderson gestured to the side. Several doors were partially open onto dark spaces. Closets, I guessed. The wall of the room sort of zig-zagged, and it looked like it would be an oversized closet with a folding door. I stepped in behind him. It was a comfortably sized bedroom full of baby furniture that had been modified to accommodate the needs of a toddler.

"This is Max's bedroom. That door leads back out to the hallway." Mr. Anderson pointed to one door, and then to a door on the opposite wall. "And that will be your room."

I shifted Max more comfortably on my hip. "Should we look at it?" I asked him.

His eyes were big and round. He nodded.

"Okay, let's go see my room." I was going to take the job. I already knew what the pay was, and it didn't suck. But most importantly, it came with a place to live. I had burned too many bridges and made some poor life choices. I needed a place to keep my things and myself.

I opened the door. It was dark.

"Light should be on the wall just inside the door."

I felt around in the logical location for the switch. I found it, and the overhead light came on, letting me see my new home. The room was the same size as the baby's room. A single bed was pushed against one wall, with a small desk against the opposite. I opened the other door in the room expecting it to be a closet, but it opened to the playroom.

"No closet?" I asked as I stepped back into the playroom.

"That's the door here." Mr. Anderson brushed past me.

I closed my eyes as the scent of his aftershave wrapped around me. Bad timing , I reminded myself and opened my eyes in time to see him open the next door along the wall. There was a large bathroom with a walk-in closet. The closet was easily as large as the previous bedrooms.

He walked up to one of two matching dressers and opened the top drawer. "This one has Max's things, and you will have the other one. You will have to share closet space, I'm afraid."

I was shaking my head. I was perfectly fine with sharing closet space with a four-year-old. "No, no, this is fine." The last placement I had been at barely had a closet with a bed in it for me.

"Join us for dinner. We can discuss the specifics," Mr. Anderson suggested.

I nodded and followed him out of the nursery. He began telling me what rooms were what. We went down a different set of stairs and along another hallway. I was going to need a map to find my way around this place.

"Wait here a moment. I want to see if my mother is up for a quick introduction."

I nodded. "Do you like your grandmother?" I asked Max.

"She my nana," he said in a small voice.

"Nana? Okay, I'll remember that."

"Jessica, would you…?" Mr. Anderson gestured for me to step inside.

An older woman, not nearly as old as I was expecting from his manners, sat in a recliner, slowly twisting yarn around a crochet hook.

"Mom, this is Jessica Kobble. She's going to be Max's nanny."

"I thought you were interviewing. I guess everything is going well?" Mrs. Anderson asked.

"Just look at Max. He's taken to her immediately. He won't let her put him down."

She smiled up at me and gave me a weak smile. "I do hope you like it here, Jessica. Max is a dear boy."

There was something about the quality of her voice. She was frail, not that I could tell with her sitting under a lap blanket.

"What are you making? I crochet too," I said, happy to find something I could chat about that wasn't the weather. Weather was a boring topic.

"I'm working on an Afghan. I'm afraid it will take me a long time. My hands, you see." She held out one hand, showing off her swollen knuckles. "But it gives me something to do."

"You're using a lovely fiber. I'm sure it will be amazing once it's finished," I said. It was lovely fiber, and I wanted to rub it between my fingers to get a feel of it. I was concerned that the hook she was using was a thin aluminum one and not one with an ergonomic or easy hold grip. I could bring that up later. That wasn't something to mention on a first meeting, or maybe…

"I don't mean to be presumptuous, but if your hands hurt holding the hook, have you tried one of those fat grip hooks?" I asked.

Mrs. Anderson smiled and gave a slight shake of her head. "I've had this hook for years. I couldn't imagine using anything else."

Just then, a clamor at the door caught my attention. A middle-aged woman carried in a tray covered in plates. When she lifted her gaze and saw me and Mr. Anderson, her neutral expression changed to a very obvious glare. "I thought I told you your mother needed her rest. What is he doing back here?"

"Mother said she was up to meeting the new nanny. We didn't simply barge in on her," Mr. Anderson said.

"Well, you need to leave now," she ordered us.

"It was lovely to meet you, Mrs. Anderson."

"I'll look forward to seeing you again, and chatting about what you like to crochet next time. Come let me give Max another goodnight kiss. I'll be going to bed after dinner."

"You want to give your nana a kiss?" I asked the boy. He gave me a wide-eyed nod. I set him on the ground so he could walk over to her.

"What do you think you're doing?" the middle-aged woman snapped at me.

"Clara, it's fine. She's just letting Max give me another hug." Mrs. Anderson bent to the side and gave Max a light hug.

His father scooped him up so his mother could reach the boy better. I felt stupid. No one had bothered to tell me what her limitations were. How was I supposed to know?

"She can't pick him up. He's too heavy," Clara barked at me.

I looked from her to Mr. Anderson. I was out of my depth here, but she was being outright rude. "Who exactly are you to be yelling at me right now?"

Clara's entire face pinched up and her eyes went a bit crazy.

"Take Max. I'll be out in a moment," Mr. Anderson said as he handed me his son and nodded for me to step back out in the hallway.

"You can't let her speak to me like that. She is completely unacceptable." There were more words, but they were cut off when the door closed.

Great. I had just gotten hired and was probably about to get fired in record time.