Seventeen: Harlow

SEVENTEEN

HARLOW

A completed yacht sailing & a full day later

D r. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde are at it again…

“Can you hear me, Miss Hawthorne?” Mr. Dawson spoke to me for the first time since we returned to New York. Via FaceTime.

“ Miss Hawthorne ?” He pressed his lips into a thin line. “I’m talking to you.”

“ Shocking .”

“What did you say?”

“Nothing.” I stared at him. “I thought you were still purposely avoiding me by sending notes through your staff to get your messages my way.”

“That was a temporary situation.”

“Any chance we can make that permanent ?”

He sat up straighter in his office chair, staring at me like he did in the steam room, looking as if he wanted to taste my mouth.

“You haven’t picked up my niece from school yet,” he said. “Are you struggling to get back into work mode since your vacation?”

“That was not a vacation.”

“Everyone else said they had a great time.”

“Because they’re not your nanny.” I rolled down the window and showed him where the twins and I were currently parked.

The Hudson School for Girls.

Olivia sat alone on a bench, her head buried in a book.

“Olivia?” I called out to her. “Olivia, can you come to the car, please? I have to get the twins to their yoga class.”

“Leave and come back for me.” She flipped the page. “I need some time alone.”

“You know I’m not allowed to do that, Olivia.”

“Leave me alone.” Her voice cracked. “ Please .”

I rolled up the window and returned the screen to her uncle.

“Anything else, Mr. Dawson?”

“Try asking the driver to get her into the car,” he said. “She likes him more than you.”

“Will do.”

“Oh, and Miss Hawthorne?” He ruined my chance of ending the call before him.

“Yes?”

“I meant what I said to you days ago aboard my yacht.” He leaned closer. “You’ve always been sexy as hell to me, and you really don’t need to wear makeup.”

“I’m only wearing eyeshadow.”

“And fake lashes.” He smirked. “You don’t need them.”

“Thanks…” My heart skipped a beat, and I tried to think of a way to stay on this friendly lane of conservation.

“Instead of staring at me, focus on getting my niece into the car.” He crashed us back into Asshole Avenue. “The twins don’t need to be late for their appointment.”

He hung up first, and I groaned.

“I’ll get Miss Olivia for you.” The driver smiled at me through the rearview mirror. “Give me about fifteen minutes.”

“Thanks.”

I watched him step out and approach Olivia. She looked up from her book and hugged him. Then she patted the spot next to her, and they chatted as if we didn’t have somewhere to be.

Ugh…

Dealing with Mr. Dawson’s hot-and-cold act was one thing, but my patience was wearing thin with Olivia’s.

She had everything in the world at her fingertips, but whenever she was with me, she behaved like I was a villain who wanted to take it away.

In desperate need of advice, I FaceTimed my stepmom Lauren.

“Hey there, top chef!” She smiled. “Your father and I were just bragging about you to a neighbor!”

“About what?”

“The usual,” she said. “We’re so proud that you’re kicking butt in culinary school and working under that world class chef you’ve always admired.”

“Yeah, well…” I held back a sigh. I’d nearly forgotten the web of lies I’d spun for them.

“I’m calling because I need to ask you a question.”

“I’m listening.”

“It’s about a kid I’m watching. I mean, Sasha is writing a brand-new romance novel that involves a single dad and his kid.”

“Ooooh.” She fanned herself. “Is there spice?”

“Always.” I nodded. “Anyway, it’s about a nanny who has to deal with a difficult nine-year-old girl. I figured you’d have some tips since that’s when you and I met. I know I wasn’t that difficult, but?—”

“Bahahahaha!” She tossed her head back, laughing. “Oh my goddddd!”

Wheezing, she patted her chest.

“I’m so glad I could provide you with some comedy today, Lauren.”

“You were god-awful to me when we met, Harlow.” She wiped her eyes. “Hell, you were downright mean.”

What? “No, I wasn’t.”

“You called me Cruella De vil for an entire year.”

“Because you ran over my dog’s favorite plushie.”

“It was an accident,” she said. “Plus, I bought him a new one. Anyway, tell Sasha to make the nanny show interest in things the little girl likes. She needs to treat her like she’s intelligent.”

“She’s beyond intelligent,” I muttered. “She’s practically a genius.”

“Show her she cares about her emotions, but make sure the nanny is serious about discipline.”

“Should I recommend Scared Straight Prison Tours?”

“Only if she starts stealing.” She laughed. “Tell Sasha she can call me about this book anytime.”

“What book? I mean—yeah, of course.” I noticed Olivia walking toward the car. “I’ll definitely let her know everything you said. Gotta go! Bye!”

Olivia slid onto the seat across from me and buckled her seatbelt.

“How was your day at school?” I asked.

She didn’t answer.

“Whenever you want to talk to me about your emotions or your friends, I’m here for you, okay?”

“Hmmm.” She nodded, giving me hope we were close to a breakthrough. “You suck ass and you won’t last.”

Okay, I give up.

I inhaled the fresh lavender scent from the twins’ linens and placed them on a shelf with their newest blankets.

Laundry time was quickly becoming my favorite task.

Since I handled it during their second afternoon nap, I enjoyed utter peace and quiet. I also used the time to catch up on my favorite podcast, When You Want to Murder Your Boss .

“Nanny May was only twenty-seven years old when she realized her boss was working her to death,” today’s host said, “so she decided to kill him first. Tired of his endless demands, she armed herself with a nail gun and tiptoed to his bedroom in the middle of the night.”

Mr. Dawson cleared his throat from behind, and I hit pause.

“May I help you with something, Mr. Dawson?” I asked.

I didn’t bother explaining away the podcast.

“My housekeeping manager accidentally left William’s Binky Bunny in San Fran today,” he said. “I need you to go get it.”

“Sure.” I nodded. “I’ll be right on it after I finish their laundry.”

“It’d be better if you do it now ,” he said. “You’ll cut into your sleeping hours with the travel, and you’ll need all those for tomorrow.”

“I’ve braved plenty of rush hour traffic in my life,” I said. “I doubt it’ll take me more than two hours for me to run to a store.”

“Who said anything about a store ?” he asked. “San Fran, as in San Francisco the city, Miss Hawthorne.”

“You want me to fly to California?”

“I wouldn’t expect you to walk.”

“But that’s…” I paused. “Can I ask a dumb question?”

“I’ve never heard a smart one.”

Ugh. “Can you just buy him another Binky Bunny from the store?” I asked. “It would save time, fuel, and energy costs.”

“You sound more concerned about my plane than my child, Miss Hawthorne.”

“I’m merely suggesting that you purchase him an identical pacifier. It’s not like he’ll notice the difference.”

“The Binky Bunny is the only pacifier he’s used since you started working here, and he’s had it since he was five weeks old,” he said. “It’s a custom-made gift, the only one he’s ever liked.”

I crossed my arms, refusing to believe that.

Sensing my skepticism, he walked to the dresser and opened the top drawer. He pulled out a similar stuffed bunny and held it out for me.

Then he gestured to the others.

“Try giving him any of these during his next meltdown and see for yourself,” he said. “My pilot will keep the jet waiting for you and the children until eight.”

“I have to take the children with me?”

“No, I’m sure they can stay here and care for themselves until you get back.” He rolled his eyes. “I’m off to work.”

Holding back a scream, I kicked the soiled clothes bin—sending dirty diapers all over the floor.

William’s ‘I’m awake now’ cries startled me during dinner.

I rushed to the nursery and scooped him up, holding him against my chest.

“It’s okay, William.” I patted his back. “It’s okay.”

He wailed and made an “O” with his lips, telling me he wanted a soother.

“I have one for you.” I slid a bright blue one into his mouth. “Don’t worry.”

He sucked on it a few times and stopped crying.

I knew it.

Giving it a few more sucks, he wriggled and spit it out. Then he screamed louder than before.

“Okay, okay.” I walked over to the dresser and pulled out another option. “You have plenty of new soothers to try. Don’t cry, don’t cry.”

It took sixteen others for me to accept defeat.

I dressed him and Charlotte in matching sweatsuits and called the pilot.