wondered absently if her employer thought the house ran itself, or if he even realized that she was not only “the nanny,” but had taken on all the duties of housekeeper as well.
It was either that, she thought, or watch the children go hungry, running through a messy house, searching for a clean glass in order to get a drink of water. Taking the initiative, she did the cooking, the cleaning, the shopping and the laundry, when she wasn’t busy playing with the children.
She was, in effect, a wife and mom—without the fringe benefits.
As far as she knew, no other woman was on the receiving end of those fringe benefits. Jack Lever was all about work.
So much so that his children were not getting nearly enough of his company.
She’d mentioned that fact to him more than once. The first time, he’d looked at her in surprise, as if she’d crossed some invisible line in the sand. It was obvious he wasn’t accustomed to having his shortcomings pointed out to him, especially by someone whose paychecks he signed. But Zooey was nothing if not honest. There was no way she would have been able to keep working for him if she had to hold her tongue about something as important as Emily and Jackie’s emotional well-being.
“Kids need a father,” she’d told him outright, pulling no punches after he’d said he wasn’t going to be home that night. That made four out of the previous five nights that he’d missed having dinner with Emily and Jackie.
He’d scowled at her. “They need to eat and have a roof over their heads as well.”
Men probably trembled when he took that tone with them, Zooey remembered thinking. But she’d stood up to her father, reclaiming her life, and if she could survive that, she reasoned that she could face anything.
“And the food and roof will disappear if you come home one night early enough to read them a story before bedtime?” she’d challenged.
He’d looked as if he would leave at any second. She was mildly surprised that he remained to argue the point. “Listen, I hired you to be their nanny, not my conscience.”
She’d gazed at him for a long moment, taking his full measure. Wondering if she’d been mistaken about Jack. Then decided that he was worth fixing. And he needed fixing badly. “Seems like there might be a need for both.”
Her nerve caught him off guard. But then, he was becoming increasingly aware that there was a great deal about the woman that kept catching him off guard, not the least of which was that he found himself attracted to her. “If there is, I’ll tell you.”
“If there is,” she countered, “you might not know it. Takes an outsider to see the whole picture,” she added before he could protest.
Jack blew out a breath. “You take an awful lot on yourself, Zooey.”
In other words, “back off,” she thought, amused. “Sorry, it’s in my nature. Never do anything by half measures.”
He’d made a noise that she couldn’t properly break down into any kind of intelligible word, and then left for work.
He’d come home earlier than planned that night. But not the night that followed or any of the nights for the next two weeks.
Still, she continued to hope she’d get through to him, for Emily and Jackie’s sake.
Jack was a good man, Zooey knew. And he did love his kids in his own fashion. The problem was, he seemed to think money was a substitute for love, and any kid with a heart knew that it clearly wasn’t.
Someone, she thought, heading out of her bedroom toward the kitchen, had given the man a very screwed up sense of values. There was no price tag on a warm hug. That was because it was priceless.
She smelled coffee. Zooey knew for a fact that she hadn’t left the coffee machine on last night.
Walking into the kitchen, she was surprised to see that Jack was already there. Not only had he beaten her downstairs, he was dressed for the office and holding a piece of burned toast in one hand, a half glass of orange juice in the other.
Not for the first time, she saw why he’d always come into the shop for coffee and a muffin. The man was the type to burn water. From the smell of it, he’d done something bad to the coffee.
“Good morning,” she said cheerfully, crossing to the counter and the struggling coffeemaker. Taking the decanter, she poured out what resembled burned sludge—she’d never seen solid coffee before—and started to clean out the pot. “Sit down,” she instructed, “and I’ll make you a proper breakfast.”
He surprised her by shaking his head as he consumed the rest of the burned offering in his hand, trying not to grimace. “No time. I’m due in early.”
She glanced at her wristwatch; this was way ahead of his usual schedule. “How early?”
He didn’t bother looking at his own watch. He could feel the time. “Half an hour from now.” He washed down the inedible toast with the rest of his orange juice and set the glass on the counter. “Traffic being what it is, I should already be on my way.”
“Without saying goodbye to the kids?” This was a new all-time low. She thought that pointing it out to him might halt him in his tracks.
Instead, he picked up his briefcase. “Can’t be helped.”
Zooey abandoned the coffee she was making. “Yes, it can,” she insisted. Grabbing a towel, she dried her hands, then tossed the towel on the back of a chair. “I can get them up now.” She saw impatience cross his face, and made a stab at trying to get through to him. “They go to sleep without you, they shouldn’t have to wake up with you already gone as well.”
An exasperated sigh escaped his lips as he told her, “Zooey, I appreciate what you’re doing—”
If time was precious, there was none to waste. Zooey cut to the chase. “No, you don’t. You think I’m a pain in the butt, and I can live with that. But the kids shouldn’t have to be made to live without you. For God’s sake, Jack, they see the mailman more than they see you.”
He didn’t have time for her exaggerations. “I have to leave.”
Zooey stunned him by throwing herself in front of the back door, blocking his exit. “Not until you see the kids.”
There were a hundred things on his mind, not the least of which was mounting a defense for a client who was being convicted by the media on circumstantial evidence. Jack didn’t have time for this.
“This is a little too dramatic, Zooey,” he informed her, “even for you.”
He’d come to learn very quickly into her stay with them that the young woman he’d hired to watch over his children was not like the nannies who had come before her. Not in any manner, shape or form.
It seemed to him that if Zooey had an opinion about something he’d done or hadn’t done, he heard about it. And if he was doing something wrong as far as the children were concerned, he’d hear about that, too. In spades.
While he found her concern about the children’s welfare reassuring and their love for her comforting—absolving him of whatever guilt
