the next few minutes they took a dizzying route through the narrow canals—the equivalent of back streets, she supposed—and she could hardly see more than whitewashed or brick walls, oddly placed ornate windows high up in them, or the odd washing line strung with underwear, waving like unconventional bunting above their heads. But then they emerged onto the Grand Canal and Ruby was glad she was sitting down, with Sofia’s weight anchoring her to her seat in the back of the boat, because she surely would have thumped down onto her backside if she’d been standing up.
She’d never seen so many beautiful buildings in one place. All were ornately decorated with arches and windows and balconies. Some were crested with intricate crenellations that reminded her of royal icing fit for a wedding cake. Others were the most beautiful colours, the old stone worn and warmed by both the salt of the lagoon water that lapped at their bases and the soft sun dangling effortlessly in a misty sky.
She was still sitting there with her mouth open when the boat puttered to a stop outside a grand-looking palazzo. Instantly, two uniformed men dashed out of an ornate wooden door and onto the small, private landing stage, complete with the red-and-white-striped poles, and collected their bags and helped them from the boat. One tried to relieve Ruby of Sofia, but the little girl wouldn’t have it. She clung so hard to Ruby’s neck that Ruby almost choked. She had to make do with letting one of the men steady her as she clambered, a little off balance, onto the small stone jetty.
Ruby looked up. The building was very elegant. Traditional Venetian style, its tall windows topped with almost church-like stonework. Surely nobody real could live anywhere quite so beautiful?
Max must have decided she was dawdling, because he huffed something and turned.
She shook her head slightly. ‘Your mother lives here?’
He thought she was being slow again. She could tell by the way he was looking at her, a weary sense of disbelief on his features. ‘Of course my mother doesn’t live here. It’s a hotel.’
Maybe it was because she was tired and Sofia felt like a lead weight, or maybe it was because this had probably been the strangest day of her life so far, but she bristled. ‘You said we were taking Sofia to see your mother. You didn’t say anything about a hotel.’
‘Didn’t I?’
‘No, you didn’t,’ she said darkly, and then muttered under her breath, ‘Details, Mr Martin.’
He waited until they had walked through the lobby and were whooshing upwards in a shiny mirrored lift before he spoke again. ‘This is the Lagoon Palace Hotel. Sofia is tired.’ He nodded in her direction, where the child was still clamped onto Ruby’s shoulder like an oversized limpet. It was the first time he’d even given a hint he’d remembered his niece existed since she’d taken over. And, consequently, the fact he’d even noticed Sofia was exhausted took Ruby by surprise. ‘It’ll be a lot less fuss if we settle in here this evening and go and see my mother in the morning.’
Ruby opened her mouth to ask why, then shut it again. A flicker of a look had passed across his features, tensing his jaw and setting his shoulders. She was only too well acquainted with that look. Some people rushed into their parents’ arms after a separation, but other people? Well, sometimes they needed a chance to mentally prepare themselves.
She just hadn’t expected Max Martin, who seemed to have life buttoned up and marching to his tune, to be one of her fellow throng.
* * *
The inside of the Lagoon Palace was a surprise. Ruby had expected it to be full of ornate furniture, antiques and brocade, but the style was a mix of classic and contemporary. The original features of the building were intact, such as the tall marble fireplaces, the plasterwork and painted ceilings, but the decor was modern, with furnishings in bold, bright colours and rich textures.
The suite Max had booked had a main living area overlooking the Grand Canal and a bedroom on either side. A low, modern sofa in cherry-red velvet faced the windows and two matching armchairs sat at right angles. The end tables were a funky organic shape and the walls were the same colour as the furnishings. Other than that it was all dark wood and pale creamy marble.
Ruby stood in the middle of the living area, mouth open, taking it all in. ‘I was expecting something a little more...traditional,’ she said to Max as she dropped her rucksack on the floor and let Sofia down from where she’d been carrying her. Sofia instantly thrust her arms upwards, demanding to be picked up again.
Ruby sighed and did as commanded. She needed a moment to get her bearings and having a wailing child wouldn’t help. So far she’d felt totally at sea, and she had no idea whether she was looking after Sofia the right way. For all she knew, she could be mentally scarring the child for life.
Her uncle might not have noticed, but she needed to start acting, and thinking, like a real nanny. Tomorrow they’d be meeting Sofia’s grandmother, and, if she was anything like her son, she’d be sharp as a tack, and she definitely wouldn’t be oblivious to Ruby’s shortcomings. The last thing she wanted was to lose this job before it had even started.
‘I don’t like clutter,’ Max said. He took a moment to look around the suite, as if he hadn’t really taken it all in before. ‘While it’s not exactly minimalist, it’s as unfussy as this city gets.’
Sofia began to grizzle again, so Ruby carried her across to one of the bedroom doors and looked inside. There was a huge bed, with a sofa with burnt orange velvet cushions at the foot, and large windows draped in the same heavy fabric. Obviously the boss’s room. She retreated and checked the door on the opposite side of the living area. It led to a spacious room with twin beds, decorated in brown and cream with colourful abstract prints on the walls. She assumed she’d be sharing with Sofia, at least for tonight.
She was relieved to see each room had its own en suite. It was odd, this nannying lark. Being part of a family, but not really being part of a family. There were obviously boundaries, which helped both family and employee, but Ruby had no idea where to draw those lines. Still, she expected that sharing a bathroom, trying to brush your teeth in the sink at the same time as your pyjama-clad boss, was probably a step too far.
Not that she wanted to see Max Martin in his pyjamas, of course.
For some reason that thought made her cheeks heat, and she distracted herself by lugging Sofia back into the living room, where her new boss was busy muttering to himself as he tried to hook up his laptop at a dark, stylish wooden desk tucked into the corner between his bedroom door and the windows.
‘I’m going to put Sofia to bed now,’ she told him. ‘She ate on the plane, and she’s clearly dog-tired.’
Max just grunted from where he had his head under the desk, then backed out and stood up. He looked at Sofia, but didn’t move towards them.
‘Come on, sweetie,’ Ruby cooed. ‘Say night-night to Uncle Max.’
Sofia just clung on tighter. Eventually he walked towards them and placed an awkward kiss on the top of the little girl’s head. Ruby tried not to notice the smell of his aftershave or the way the air seemed to ripple around her when he came near, and then she quickly scurried away and got Sofia ready for bed.
She put Sofia to bed in one of the twin beds in their room. In the bag her mother had packed for her, Ruby found a number of changes of clothes, the usual toiletries, a few books and a rather over-loved stuffed rabbit.
‘Want Mamma,’ the little girl sniffed as Ruby helped her
