Two
After the tour of the house—which was just as homey and commodious as she’d envisioned it—Melissa was again managing to look Charles directly in the eye for more than thirty seconds at a time. She was going to try to forget she’d told him “the big lie” and enjoy the next week with his three adorable children. His work schedule, as he’d outlined it for her earlier, would keep him shut up in his study for most of the day, anyway, or teaching classes at the college. She’d see very little of him.
While she wasn’t dead yet—just pregnant and divorced and perpetually tired—Melissa was not immune to the charms of a handsome, well-educated, successful family man like Charles Avery. Under other circumstances, she’d like to get to know him better. But she didn’t dare spend any more time with him than necessary, just in case the truth—that Brad wasn’t dead yet, either, just dead to her—exploded out of her mouth in a moment of weakness.
While Melissa got acquainted with the children and the lay of the house that morning, Charles more or less hung around…probably to make sure it was safe to leave his children in her care. By noon, Melissa felt sure she had matters well in hand. She and the children were getting along great. Sarah’s hair was in neat pigtails, tied on the ends with her favorite ribbons, Daniel was dressed and seated in his high chair squashing banana slices with the heel of his chubby little hand, and Christopher’s questions were being answered as quickly as Melissa could manage.
As well, she was having no trouble finding everything in the kitchen necessary to make tuna-salad sandwiches for lunch. Mrs. Butters was evidently very organized and put things in places that made sense.
As Melissa scooped mayonnaise into a bowl, Sarah stood on a stool next to her and “helped” by sampling the pickle relish straight out of the jar with her fingers. Christopher still talked nonstop as he got the milk out of the refrigerator and promptly spilled some on the floor. Now Daniel was throwing his flattened banana slices—those that were still intact—against the wall, seeing which ones would stick.
Melissa was unperturbed. This was typical toddler behavior. Her back was to the door, but Melissa could feel Charles hovering and watching from the hall. She grabbed two paper towels, handed one to Christopher to clean up the small puddle of spilled milk, and dampened the other to use in wiping Sarah’s sticky fingers. She finished this task just in time to catch a banana slice while it was airborne, then turned to confront her employer.
He seemed chagrined to be caught watching, but she just smiled and said, “Don’t worry, Charles. I can manage. The kids will be fine. I’ll be fine. But you won’t be fine if you’re not prepared for that lecture Saturday. Isn’t that why you hired me? So you could get some work done?”
“Well…yes.”
“So go and do your work.”
He hesitated, then said, “You’re right. I’ll go do my work. But first I should warn you, Daniel is a very picky eater. What he doesn’t like he either hurls across the room or dumps down his pants.”
Melissa laughed. “I see. So, does Mrs. Butters keep a list of his likes and dislikes?”
“No, because what he likes and doesn’t like changes day by day. Each meal is an experiment, so to speak.” Charles looked apologetic, waiting for her response.
Melissa merely shrugged. “As I said, we’ll manage.”
Charles nodded uncertainly, turned to go, then turned back.
“Oh, and they don’t take naps, as a rule. Mrs. Butters thinks napping interferes with nighttime sleeping.”
Melissa smiled. “In other words, she likes to maintain an early bedtime.”
“Yes, I guess so.” Charles just stood there. He seemed to be stalling, trying to think of something else to talk about. Then he finally turned to go.
Melissa couldn’t resist. “Charles?”
He turned quickly back. “Yes?”
“By any chance are you a picky eater? Do you have a list of likes and dislikes, and do you hurl food or stuff it down your pants?”
He chuckled. “No to all three questions.”
She grinned. “In that case, why don’t I bring a sandwich to your study when I’ve got lunch ready?”
He grinned back. “That would be nice.” After another pause, he turned abruptly and strode away, presumably to his study.
Melissa breathed a sigh of relief. She knew he was just being protective of the children—and of her, which was a wholly new experience for her, since Brad never worried about anyone but himself. But it was better that Charles kept his distance, for more reasons than one.
“What do you want to do after lunch?” she asked the children.
Sarah shrugged, licking a last, stray piece of pickle off her pinky finger. “We don’t know.”
“I know how to make play dough,” Melissa offered.
The children’s eyes widened.
“All dif’rent colors?” Sarah asked.
Melissa nodded, then motioned with her head in the direction of her nanny bag, sitting on the floor by the refrigerator. “Of course. I brought along some food coloring in my nanny bag. We can make the dough any color you want.”
Christopher eyed the small canvas suitcase with interest.
“What else have you got in there?”
“Oh, lots of things. You’ll find out, little by little as the week goes by. But there’s something in there I want to get out right now.” She retrieved the bag and set it on the counter, high above the children’s eye level. She wanted the insides of her nanny bag to retain a certain mystery for them. She reached in and took out two jars of toddler food.
“What’s that?” Sarah asked.
“It’s food for Daniel,” Melissa answered. “I made it myself.”
“He probably won’t eat it,” Christopher warned her.
“We’ll see.”
Christopher’s brows furrowed, his concerned expression reminding Melissa of Charles. “But will it hurt your feelings if he throws it on the wall or stuffs it down his pants?”
Melissa shook her head. “Not at all. Daniel can be my guinea pig. I’ll try different foods on him every day, and if he likes something more than once, I’ll know it’s really good.”
Sarah laughed. “M’lissa called Daniel a pig.”
“No she didn’t,” Christopher scoffed. “She called him a guinea pig. It’s not the same as a pig pig. It’s like a lab rat or somethin’.”
Melissa scrunched her nose. “I’m not sure that’s much better.”
Christopher stood on tiptoe and tried to see inside the bag.
“Do you have your toothbrush and pajamas in
