3. Dylan

3

DYLAN

M ax settled into his new routine with the nanny. Or rather, she settled into his routine. She was a reasonably flexible woman. It was refreshing. The last few nannies always had some complaint about how the household was run or the expectations I had of them, that they'd agreed to when they took the job. Not Jessica. She seemed perfectly fine with everything, and she smiled a lot.

Even first thing in the morning. I don't know how she did it, but she always had herself and Max ready to go for the day by the time I showed up in the morning.

The nursery was directly across the hall from my bedroom suite. I knocked before opening the door. Every morning, Max acted like it was a surprise to see me.

"Hey, buddy," I said, catching his attention.

He and Jessica were sitting on the floor with building blocks. Some sing-song kids' music was playing. Max looked up, his eyes widened, and a smile split his face. Immediately dropping the blocks, he darted over to me with a "Daddy!"

I scooped him up, and he giggled. "Are you ready for breakfast?"

"Oh, is it breakfast already?" Jessica asked as she pushed to her feet. "Max and I have a very busy morning planned, lots of blocks, and?—"

"You don't have to give me a report," I interrupt. "I trust you. Besides, I can see the pile of books next to you. Books and blocks, sounds like you have your time planned out."

"We do. I'll let you two enjoy your breakfast." She turned toward her room.

"Why don't you join us? There is always a spread and too much food," I said.

She gave me a soft smile, and I swear a faint hint of pink flushed her cheeks.

"I, uh… Thank you, that would be lovely." She stammered her first few words before accepting.

"Great, come on." I hefted Max up a bit more and buzzed the top of his head with a kiss before putting him down and taking his hand.

Jessica followed us out of the room.

"You know, I never see you eating. When do you eat?"

"You never see your maids or cook eat either. That's kind of part of the job," she said.

"But Clara always has her meals and snacks around Mother."

"Clara isn't exactly staff the same way. She's also sort of a paid companion and eats meals with your mother."

"Fair point. So, when do you eat?"

Her laugh was more like a nervous giggle. "I typically eat when you have Max. Only you don't see me because I'm not in the dining room."

"But you're always waiting for us in the nursery."

"Not always. A lot of times, I come and pick Max up. So, I eat my breakfast or dinner in the kitchen, and then I come and pick Max up so you can get back to work. It's all very coordinated behind the scenes," she said.

"How very Disney of you."

"What does that even mean?" she asked.

"The amount of work that goes on behind the scenes at the theme parks so that the visitor has a magical experience," I pointed out.

"You never watched any of those British shows that showed the dynamics between the servants and the family of the house, did you?" she asked.

"Can't say I did. Mother did. She loves that kind of thing. I find those drama shows too boring. Why?"

We crossed into the dining room, and I let the kitchen staff member know we were going to need a place setting for Jessica.

"Breakfast is buffet style," I pointed out. "Serve yourself."

I hiked Max up to my hip so he could look into the covered dishes and make his selection. I gave him scoops of scrambled eggs and a few sausages before putting his plate on the table. He climbed into his chair and grabbed a sausage and began eating with his fingers.

I wasn't until Jessica had filled a plate and was settled before we got back to our conversation.

"You were saying something about servants and television shows?" I prompted.

Jessica nodded. "But you don't watch them, so my point is kind of lost."

"Explain it anyway," I told her.

"The shows illustrate the dynamic of how the family living in the house perceive reality and how things are done versus the perspective of the servants doing all the work. You don't really think about the logistics. You just expect results."

"I think about logistics all the time. That's part of my job. It's what I have to do to ensure that properties are acquired and developments happen. I do think about logistics. Why do you say I don't?"

She held up a bagel covered in cream cheese with a bright red jam across the top of it all. "Take this bagel, for example. Is it fresh or did it come out of a plastic bag from a grocery store?"

"I assume it's freshly baked. I know the cook likes to bake."

Jessica nodded. "Freshly baked and delicious. What time did you get up this morning?"

"What's with all the questions? Just say what you are trying to say," I said. I didn't need pop quizzes along the way to whatever point she wanted to make.

"You got up at six forty-five. You always get up at six forty-five unless it's the weekend. You don't come to check on Max until almost eight, yet you are almost always amazed that Max and I are up and dressed and waiting for you. You come down to breakfast by eight thirty, and you expect breakfast to be waiting for you, including freshly baked bagels."

"Your point?"

"At what time does the cook have to start making the bagels for you?" She smirked like she caught me out.

I shrugged. "I don't know, and I don't care as long as… Oh, I see what you're doing. As long as my life continues as I expect it at home, I don't pay attention to what others are necessarily doing to get their work done. And that includes when you eat your meals."

She smiled and spread her hands in a wide gesture as if she were presenting something. "Exactly."

She folded her arms and her hands rested on her chest. "And as a member of the staff, I'm part of what goes on behind the magic curtain. Max sees me eat because he doesn't really care. And I can't leave him alone with your mother, even to go to the bathroom, without bringing the wrath of Clara down on my head."

"But she makes no pretense of hiding the amount of work she does," I mentioned.

"Definitely not. And she likes to remind everyone that she is not normal staff." She ended her statement with a small huff.

"Are you getting along okay with everyone here?"

"Do you mean, am I getting along with Clara?" Jessica cut straight to the real question.

"Everyone on staff is great, very welcoming. Lori, your cook, is actually the best. She suggested that I take cookies when I go see your mother. Not a lot, just a few, and she even makes them for me. Of course, that's how I discovered there is a small war of wills going on between her and Clara. Apparently, Clara likes to be the one to take cookies to your mother, and she can be very territorial about it."

My brow furrowed as I thought about her words. "Lori wasn't trying to?—"

"No, not at all. She honestly thought your mother would appreciate some freshly baked cookies, and the timing was just that Max and I were headed there next. To be honest, anything can and does set Clara off. I lent your mother one of my ergonomic crochet hooks, and Clara took offense because she hadn't thought of it."

"That was very kind of you. She hasn't said anything. Did she like it?"

Jessica shrugged. "I don't know, but I did see it wrapped up in her work in the basket she keeps everything in the other day."

"Let me know what kind it was and I'll have yours replaced. You can send me a link over text. This has been a very informative breakfast, but I have a very full day ahead of me." I stood and wiped the corners of my mouth on the linen napkin before setting it on the table. "I'll see you tonight, Max." I reached over and mussed his hair. "Jessica."

I left them in the dining room finishing their breakfasts, and I thought about logistics. The cook would have to get up around five a.m. or earlier to make bagels. That was ridiculous, especially since she also made dinner. I was going to have to have a chat with her about reasonable work hours and making sure she didn't think I was taking advantage of her. As much as Jessica likened my situation with staff who ran my house behind some magic curtain, this wasn't feudal England, and my staff were employees making good wages and not indentured servants.

Once in the office, I mostly forgot about the issues with home and focused on my work. Managing multiple development projects while always keeping an eye out for other ways to expand kept me busy. Even with a home office, the days between one nanny quitting and Jessica starting had set me behind. A week later, I still felt as if there were items falling through the cracks.

I got to work. At some point, my admin had a deli sandwich delivered for lunch. The bag sat on my desk for at least an hour before she called me over the interoffice intercom and reminded me to eat.

Eventually, the sandwich was eaten, and I continued to work.

"Have you gotten out of that chair at all today?"

I looked up and my admin was standing inside my office door, her tote bag on her shoulder, her coat over her arm.

"You headed out for lunch?" I asked.

"Dylan, it's time to go home. You've been so focused all day. Did you remember to eat your sandwich?"

I glanced out the window. The light was changing, the fog starting to come in as it did in the early evenings. "Yeah, I ate the sandwich," I mumbled.

"Maybe you need to wrap everything up and go home before it gets dark, or I'm afraid you'll be at it and still sitting there when I walk in tomorrow."

I nodded in agreement. "No, you're right. I'll just send this last email and then head home. I need to see Mother and Max before they go to bed." A pang of guilt hit as I realized I hadn't checked on Mother for a few days.

She left, and I stared at the computer. I reoriented my focus and reviewed the email before hitting Send . Done.

I Shut the computer down and had all the papers I thought I would need for the evening in my messenger bag when the phone rang.

"Dylan Anderson," I said as I answered it.

"Dylan! Ryan Carmichael here. How have you been?"

I hadn't heard from Ryan for a long while. I sat down. "Ryan, what has you calling? How have you been?"

"I have this proposal I want for your group, but I was hoping to schedule some time to run it by you before making it all official. You know, see if you think it's worth pursuing," he said.

"Yeah, I know exactly what you mean. Are you in town? Why don't you come over to my place on Saturday? We can hit a round of golf and you can tell me what you're thinking."