7. Lila
7
LILA
F irst day jitters never got easier, and knowing that I would be working right next door to the job I'd had to abruptly quit may have made it even worse. But at least as I boarded the same subway train that would have taken me toward the Mayhews' brownstone, on my way to my first day of work for Miles and Olivia Kramer, I knew I'd be stepping into a gig that would be much, much more bearable than the last.
Mr. Kramer was paying me a sum with more zeros behind it than I probably deserved. And it also didn't hurt that he was gorgeous—the kind of man I maybe wouldn't recoil from if he tried to hit on me a la Reggie's gross dad.
Stop it, Lila! You're going to work for the man. For his child. Time to be professional and get your head out of the clouds.
On the short walk from the train to the Kramers' place, I allowed my eternal optimism to buoy me forward. I was grinning by the time I knocked on the door, and a plump older woman with salt-and-pepper hair answered the door.
"Oh, good!" she said by way of greeting. "You must be Lila, yes?"
"Yes," I confirmed. "And you are?"
"Fran Nguyen," she introduced herself, holding out a wrinkled hand for me to shake. "I've been Miss Olivia's nanny until now, so Mr. Kramer wanted me to introduce you to her, show you around."
"Oh, that's so nice of him," I said honestly as I followed her into the house.
"He's a good man," Mrs. Nguyen said with a solemn nod.
"Is he here today?"
"No, no. He's often at work. Very busy, you know. He's a very important man."
I did get that impression. Still, knowing he wasn't here was a little disappointing. I refused to examine why that could be as Mrs. Nguyen showed me through the clean, though sparsely decorated, Kramer residence. The house was much more minimalistic than the Mayhews' place, more modern and elegant than ostentatiously wealthy, and I would have found it refreshing if it seemed intentional rather than the result of some lack of care. Clearly, my mother had been on to something with one of her signature catchphrases—"Money doesn't buy good taste!"
As we walked through the rooms, Mrs. Nguyen spoke in a warm, affectionate tone as we walked. "This door is to Mr. Kramer's office," she explained as we passed a door we didn't open in a long hallway. "He works very hard, always making sure Olivia is taken care of. I feel he must choose to work at home so often because it's a way for him to be closer to his little girl, even if he isn't always comfortable with… well, you'll see."
I guessed I would.
She led me through the house on a tour that showed her comfort here in addition to the ins and outs of my new workplace. There was a huge, modern kitchen, a coldly modern dining room, and bathrooms with fancy plumbing I could never dream of—Gina, Christine, and I all shared one small, temperamental shower at our place. There was a well-appointed playroom for little Olivia, and on our way to her bedroom, we passed the primary suite.
"Mr. Kramer's bedroom," Mrs. Nguyen explained, her tone becoming low and soft. "Well, except he hardly sleeps in there since Janessa passed. He's been through a lot, losing his wife, but he's so strong. Really admirable."
I hadn't realized before now that Mr. Kramer was a widower. The knowledge struck me in the chest, a painful pang of sympathy that made the stoic, mysterious Miles Kramer a little more human to me. "Oh, wow. When… when did she pass?"
"It's been a few years, but I'm afraid Mr. Kramer has never been quite the same." The older woman tsked, her concern for the family apparent in her warm brown eyes. "He's still been a great employer, of course. Wonderfully fair, always generous. He's just… a bit closed."
"Understandable," I murmured. "And I bet his daughter misses her mom."
"They don't talk much about Ms. Janessa," Mrs. Nguyen said with a mildly disapproving tone. "Anyway, Olivia was very young, the poor thing."
"That must have been so hard," I said, feeling a creeping urge to cry that I struggled to shove down. Crying on my first day wasn't a good look. I swallowed the lump in my throat and tried to think of happy things—kittens, puppies, earning enough money to someday feel comfortable taking time off work to pursue writing. That did the trick.
"Yes," the kindly nanny said with a sad smile, and that was that.
When we finally found our way to Olivia's room, I was greeted by a cheerfully pink space filled with toys, books, and princess touches. My own childhood self would have loved a room like this, I thought as I took it all in—though of course, the Dawsons hadn't been nearly as financially well-off as Miles Kramer. Mrs. Nguyen's face softened further as she started to talk about the child she'd basically raised. "Now, Olivia, she's a sweetheart. Loves to draw, and sing, and play pretend. She's got a vivid imagination, that one. I wonder where she could be?"
As if on cue, the door to a giant castle playhouse at the far end of the room burst open and a small whirlwind ran out, all flying dark curls and a bright smile, her toddler legs still wobbly but confident. "Mrs. Nguyen! Mrs. Nguyen!" the little girl cried, her dark eyes lighting up with joy. Only it really came out more like, "Miz Win! Miz Win!" and if that wasn't the cutest thing I'd ever seen, I wasn't sure what was.
"Olivia, sweetie," Mrs. Nguyen greeted the small girl, crouching down to hug her. Olivia latched on, clearly reveling in the affection she got from her nanny, perhaps in part because her father wasn't able to give it as freely.
When Mrs. Nguyen was able to peel the girl off her, a loving separation, she gently guided Olivia to turn around and face me. "Dear heart, this nice young woman is Lila. She's going to be your new nanny. Remember how I told you that I'm retiring?"
Olivia nodded carefully as she looked up at me with wide, curious eyes. Though her skin tone and hair texture were darker than Mr. Kramer's—favoring the coloring of his late wife, I supposed, though the house had conspicuously lacked any family photos—something in the girl's serious gaze reminded me of her father right away. She seemed to be assessing me, even when she said to Mrs. Nguyen, "Going to Washington."
"Yes, dear, I'm moving to Washington to live with my son." Mrs. Nguyen smiled, patting Olivia's puff of springy curls with affection as she told me, "I need to be closer to my own grandchildren, you see. My son and daughter-in-law live in Seattle, and they're expecting their first child."
"Congratulations," I told her as she beamed.
"Really far," Olivia lamented, and I nodded in agreement as I watched her young face fill with a profound sadness she must have already gotten to know quite well in her short life. It couldn't be easy for her to lose another motherly figure so young—Seattle was far enough from New York to be another planet.
"But you know I'll still call you on your daddy's video phone, yes? And now Lila is here. Say hi to her, Olivia," Mrs. Nguyen urged, giving the girl an encouraging push forward.
"Hi," Olivia said shyly, clutching her stuffed rabbit to her chest as she stepped closer. Clearly, this girl really had a thing for princesses, because I noticed even the bunny was wearing a princess dress and a gold crown. It made me smile.
"Hi, Olivia," I said, kneeling to her level carefully so as not to cause any issues with my short sundress. "It's so nice to meet you. I've heard lots of great stuff about you, and I'm sure we're gonna have so much fun."
"Okay," the child said. I couldn't blame her for being trepidatious in the face of this change. I made sure to keep my voice soft.
"Your daddy hired me because he thought we might get along, and I think he's right," I told her. "Does your bunny have a name?"
"Princess," Olivia answered, and I should have been able to guess. "You talk to my Daddy?" The hope in her little voice cracked my heart right down the center. Clearly, this child idolized her one remaining parent. It only raised my opinion of him in my mind, even as I still worried about his apparently hands-off parenting techniques. I'll just have to fix that, I told myself with more confidence than I felt.
"Yes. He and I met just the other day," I said. Then, sensing the little girl wanted more information about her mysterious father, I finished lamely with, "He's very… tall."
The child giggled, lighting up. " So tall!"
"I bet you'll be almost as tall as him one day, too," I said, and she laughed again, pure delight on her face.
"No way! Not as tall as Daddy. I won't work as much, either." She finished this firm statement with an authoritative nod.
Much of my first day passed in a blur of information and fun bonding time with my new charge. Mrs. Nguyen made sure to show me where to find everything in the house from snacks to cleaning supplies to spare linens, and she shared insider tips about Olivia's favorite games, books, and tantrum-calming techniques. Eventually, the kind older woman took a step back, though, making room for me to establish myself in Olivia's life.
I liked chatting with Mr. Kramer's child much more than I'd enjoyed my first meeting with him, which was no huge feat. But the more she warmed up to me, becoming more talkative and excited about everything from lunch time to play time to tidying up the whirlwind of toys after a rousing game of princess and dragon, I found myself laughing with the little girl more often than not, and with each passing moment, I was becoming more and more grateful for the unfortunate circumstances that had landed me here. Gross Mr. Mayhew didn't deserve any credit for anything, but I wasn't above admitting that my spontaneous exodus from his house had led me here, to maybe the best job I'd ever had.
When it was dinner time, I made sure to include Olivia in everything I was doing as I prepped a nutritious meal. Mr. Kramer's kitchen wasn't stocked with child-safe knives and utensils or even play versions like I'd expect for a toddler's dad, so rather than enlisting her to help like I often did with children I cared for in the past, I had Olivia sit at the table and talk to me while I chopped veggies for a salad. At least the kitchen was fully stocked in that sense—there was plenty of fresh produce the likes of which my and my roommates' local bodega rarely saw.
"What's that?" Olivia asked me whenever she spotted a food or ingredient she didn't recognize.
"Good question! That's a radish."
"What's a radish?" she asked with a baby-softened r sound that made me smile.
"It's kind of like a carrot. Very crunchy and super yummy in a salad. Isn't it a pretty color?"
"It's pink!" she agreed excitedly. When I handed her a small piece to try, she bit into it and made an enthusiastic mmm sound even as she barely nibbled. "I like wadishes," she decided, even as she put the lightly-chewed veggie on the paper towel in front of her. Kids were a mess of contradictions, and that was why I loved them. I laughed but decided against fighting with her on eating her veggies yet. Besides, she might like it better when it was all dressed up in the pink segmented dish Mrs. Nguyen had deemed her favorite "princess plate".
When I finished making the full meal—simple mac and cheese and chicken nuggets, with plenty of greens in the salad on the side to balance it out—we sat down to dinner together, just Olivia and me. Even though we'd had a nice day so far, when it was just us two, Olivia took a bit of work to open up. I started by telling her about myself—that I was the youngest child in my family, that I lived with my two best friends, that I loved to write stories.
"I love stuff with magic and adventure and dashing princes," I told her. "So I want to write things like that for little girls like you. Books have always been some of my favorite things in the whole world."
"I like stories, too," she piped up with excitement. I gently gestured for her to keep picking away at her food, and she politely followed my instruction, but now the floodgates were opened. Throughout the meal, my new little friend chattered on and on about her favorite toys, how Mrs. Nguyen used them during story time, and which stories she liked best.
At some point, though, her enthusiasm became too much. With a flailing tiny fist, Olivia accidentally knocked over her sippy cup, its lid cracking against the floor and causing a puddle to form on the pristine tile. Her eyes went wide with horror, her lower lip trembling with the threat of tears. A strong protective instinct took over. This little girl was so sweet, had been through so much heartache, that I couldn't allow her another second of sadness. Not if I could help it.
"Oops!" I said lightly. Without missing a beat, I turned the mess into a game. "I thought this might happen, Olivia. Don't be scared, but it looks like the dreaded Milk Monster has struck again!" I exclaimed in a dramatic tone, grabbing a paper towel and pretending to chase an imaginary creature around the kitchen as I made my way toward cleaning up the puddle. "Quick, Olivia! Help me catch it before it gets away!"
Olivia's initial shock melted into giggles as she joined in the fun, her little hands flapping as she mimicked my exaggerated movements. "Milk Monster, no!" She laughed, her worries forgotten in the silliness of the moment.
"Milk Monster, yes!" I sang, improvising a silly tune as I cleaned up the spill. "Milk Monster, Milk Monster, making a mess! But we can clean it up, no need to stress!"
Olivia was laughing so hard she could barely stand, and her infectious joy filled the kitchen. She even ran to hug me around my legs once the puddle was gone, and I doubled over, laughing with her as I ruffled her curls and relished this moment, our first true bonding experience.
"Looks like you two are having a pleasant evening," Olivia's father's familiar voice broke through the kitchen, startling me into letting the child go. I froze mid-laugh, my face suddenly hot with embarrassment. He took in the scene before him—his daughter with her milk-soaked napkin, me holding a paper towel like it was a sword, antithetical to the order and cleanliness he seemed to value so highly. And had he heard my silly song? Oh, jeez.
I turned around, red-faced with embarrassment, to see his sleek form standing imposingly in the doorway. His gray slacks fit him perfectly, and the white button-down I guessed he'd worn underneath a suit jacket was unbuttoned at the collar, the sleeves rolled up to expose his slim, tendinous forearms. I swallowed hard and tried not to look at him with an unprofessional amount of lust. It was a weird mix of emotions, anyway—embarrassment and desire didn't really make for a good combo.
"Uh, we had a little spill, but it's all under control," I said, trying to sound as professional as possible despite the ridiculousness of the situation. "I didn't know you'd be home so soon."
"I live here," the man responded, his words clipped. Duh, Lila. You're in his house. Would I ever stop embarrassing myself in front of him?
"No, I know that, obviously," I hurried to cover. "Sorry. I just meant… you surprised me. But, um, welcome home."
He was inscrutable and silent. I'd never done well with that type of person, since I was more of a nervous talker. I'd always wanted to get to know the families I nannied for, too, and no matter how much resistance I faced from Miles Kramer, I knew I had to try with him, too.
"Did you have a good day?" I asked him, guiding Olivia forward to approach her father with me. She and I stood together, a united front of joy and friendliness that hoped to melt his cold heart. It hurt my heart to see how shy she acted around her own father—after only knowing me for a day, she was clinging to my legs instead of running into his arms.
Mr. Kramer blinked at me. I noticed his gaze didn't linger on Olivia long, though he couldn't resist the urge to look at her a little. Maybe she was a painful reminder of the wife he'd lost. I couldn't imagine the heartache of that. Still, he seemed to consider my question with seriousness. "Yes, my day was… productive." A pause, and then he caught onto his next line. "Did the two of you have a good day?"
"I think so," I answered. "Tell him what we did today, Olivia. Don't be shy."
"We caught the Milk Monster," she said quietly.
"It's true. Olivia was so brave."
Without missing a beat, her father said, "I wasn't aware there were any monsters in the house."
"Nothing too scary," I reassured him with a smile. I could have sworn an almost-grin was twitching at the corners of his mouth, too, so I encouraged him further. "Though I'm sure if you made sure to assert yourself as the man of the house, you'd scare away any of the ones who might still be hiding. Right, Olivia?"
"Right," she said. "'Cause Daddy's so tall."
Miles did surprise himself with a smile at this, but it was short lived. Just as he was on the brink of sharing a moment of connection with his little girl, he seemed to remember himself, sliding back into his detached persona with practiced ease. Still, the glimpse of that smile, his perfect teeth and the way it softened his face, took my breath away for a second. Miles Kramer, meanwhile, looked like he was eager to escape without seeming too rude. I was still a little dazed by the quick changes in him when he said, "Well, I'm glad to see you two are getting along well. If you'll excuse me, I have some work to do in my office. Make sure Olivia is in bed at a reasonable hour."
"Of course."
He nodded briskly and started to walk out of the kitchen, leaving us to our own devices again. However, before he'd even made his way completely out of sight, he stopped and looked back at me, remembering something. "I almost forgot. Did Mrs. Nguyen show you your room?"
I wrinkled my brow. "My… room?"
"Yes, Lila. Your accommodations. Mrs. Nguyen was a live-in nanny, and you're welcome to stay as well. If you'd like to, that is."
Whoa. I hadn't known that was part of the bargain, though it made sense, since this was the arrangement a lot of rich New Yorkers made with their nannies. Housing came at such a premium in the city, and anyone who could afford to outsource childcare like that was bound to have extra room. Somehow, though, that part of our deal hadn't been explicitly stated before now. I already had a place to live, and two roommates I adored, and I could more than afford to cover my portion of our exorbitant rent now that I was employed by two non-stingy billionaires.
"Oh," I let out by accident. Very articulate, Lila. "Um, that's really generous. Thank you. I, uh, might need some time to figure out my arrangements on that front. But it might be good to stay a couple of nights a week, at least."
He nodded at this, his icy eyes seeming to blaze with some emotion I couldn't place as he held on to my gaze for dear life. The tension broke only when he turned on his heel and left at last.
There was another layer of complication in this whole gig, now, and though I really did appreciate the generosity Miles Kramer exhibited by inviting me into his home, the thought of figuring all of this out myself was overwhelming. I wasn't sure I could be in the same room as him for any longer than the brief exchanges we'd had so far, much less practically live in the same house as him. He was too mysterious, his closed-off personality antithetical to mine—and if I were honest, he was too gorgeous, too. I didn't know how to handle the sensations that came over my body when he looked at me.
Besides all of that messiness, I still had another boss to worry about, another young child to meet. I was looking forward to meeting baby Jamie, but the idea of all of this back-and-forth traveling between the two homes in two different boroughs, figuring out the logistics I'd never quite considered of having two nannying gigs at once… it was enough to make a girl too exhausted to stand up. All I could do was try my best.
That, and I could hope beyond hope that Miles, Felipe, and Aaron could use their unlimited financial resources and fancy business brains to invent some way for me to exist in two places at once. I wouldn't put it past them.