Nanny

5

Kate

I'm a failure, I thought while the helicopter flew me back to Norwalk. My first nanny interview and I totally bombed it.

I couldn't bring myself to enjoy the gorgeous views from the helicopter. We rode in silence until the pilot landed on the soccer field outside Miranda's house.

Miranda came running out of the backyard. "You're totally not allowed to land there! A police woman came by earlier and warned me! I had to pretend I didn't know what was going on!"

I bent down to remove my heels, which were sinking into the grass. "I'm not sure Braxton Nash cares about rules."

"Braxton... What!" she said. "The billionaire? That's who your interview was with?"

We went inside and I explained everything to her. The ride to Manhattan, landing on the roof of the Nash Capital building. The massive office.

Miranda ran a Google Image search of him. There were photos of Braxton with the last two Presidents, and the last three Governors of New York. I scanned the search results. Photos with him and Bon Jovi, Beyoncé, and George Clooney. Braxton Nash was friends with everyone who was anyone in the city. Apparently there were rumors that he had dated Lady Gaga for a few months.

"You were in the same room with him?" Miranda asked.

"Only for a few minutes. He wasn't very nice."

"All of my clients are boring," she complained. "Yet you won the nanny jackpot on your first try..."

"I didn't win anything. I bombed the interview."

"I'm sure you did fine..."

"I lied about my experience," I replied. "I told his personal assistant that I had been nannying for a bunch of people in Connecticut, and then when I had the real interview with Braxton... He knew. He knew everything immediately. He had done a bunch of research on me. Background checks, work history, details of why I was fired from the United Nations. He knew everything."

Miranda sighed. "I'm so sorry, honey. This is my fault. I'm the one who told you to exaggerate your experience..."

"It's not your fault." I shook my head. "I just don't get it. Why would they bring me in just to ridicule me for having no experience?"

"I don't know. But it makes for a great story. Braxton Nash, the billionaire playboy, flew you in for an interview. Did you get to touch him? Shake his hand? Kate, I'm so jealous! My biggest brush with fame was that time I saw Paul Rudd buying coffee. This is a much better story."

"It's a good story," I muttered. But I didn't want a story.

I wanted a job.

I spent the rest of my Sunday afternoon feeling sorry for myself. There was no way I was going to get a nannying job now. I had been putting all of my hopes on that prospect, but it was clear that it wouldn't go anywhere. I just didn't have the experience needed.

But as nice as a nannying job would have been, it wasn't what I really wanted to do. It was a waste of my real talents. I had spent years perfecting my language skills. Becoming fluent in every language possible, practicing daily until not just my grammar was perfect, but also my accent. Speaking with the big German guy in Braxton's office helped remind me of my true talent. I didn't want it to go to waste.

It wasn't just something I was good at, though. It was my true passion. Communication was more than just words being exchanged by two people. It was how societies got along. Civilizations worked together, formed alliances, and went to war based on their ability to communicate with one another. Being able to bridge the divide between languages and cultures filled me with immense pride. It was what I was born to do.

Anything less than that, even nannying for a billionaire, felt inadequate.

I fired off an email to my old boss at the United Nations. Maybe enough time had passed that they would let me come back. But when he responded to me, it only made my heart sink.

Sorry, Kate. I wish there was something I could do, but it's best if you move on.

Once I stopped feeling sorry for myself, I spent the rest of the evening looking for temporary jobs. There still weren't any prospects related to languages, so I settled my sights on the gig economy. My Uber profile was all set up and ready to go. I could begin taxiing people around Connecticut tomorrow. Norwalk didn't have much demand, so I would probably drive up to New Haven and work there.

I dreaded it, but it was better than staying home all day while Miranda went to work.

That night I dreamed of marble floors and panoramic views of the city from the top floor of the Nash Capital building.

Miranda was a mess the next morning, rushing around the kitchen getting ready for her nannying job. "I'm supposed to get there early and take the kids to the Bronx Zoo," she said while packing herself a lunch. "There's a new tiger cub. The kids have been talking about it for weeks, and of course I sleep through my alarm on the day..."

"You can hire me as your alarm clock," I said while eating cereal. "For ten bucks a day I'll splash you with a bucket of cold water."

She glared at me. "I'll splash you with a bucket of water for free."

I grinned at her around a mouthful of cereal.

"You ready for your first day as an Uber driver?" she asked.

"Ugh. No."

"Cheer up. At least you get to choose your own hours. If you sleep in it doesn't really matter."

"If I sleep in, it means I get fewer rides and make less money," I pointed out.

"Stop complaining. You'll be fine."

"How do Uber drivers dress? Should I slum it with pajama pants? Or maybe lean into the job and dress up like a fancy chauffeur?"

"Where are my sunglasses?" Miranda asked while rummaging through a drawer. "I'm going to be outside all day..."

"They're on the table outside."

Miranda rushed into the backyard and retrieved her sunglasses. She turned to come back inside... And then stopped.

She tilted her head up toward the sky.

"No way!"

"What?" I called.

She didn't answer, so I carried my bowl of cereal outside. At first I didn't see what she was looking at because the trees were in the way.

But then I heard it. The familiar WHOMP WHOMP WHOMP of helicopter rotors. And it wasn't a helicopter passing by on the way to the hospital.

Both of us stared in shock as the same black helicopter hovered over the soccer field behind the house, then descended to the grass. A man in a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up exited the helicopter and walked toward our house. Adam Sizemore, the personal assistant to Braxton Nash, opened the back gate and then walked across the yard

"What's happening?" Miranda whispered.

Adam waved as he approached. "Morning, Kate."

"What are you doing here?" I demanded.

"Pack your things," he said. "You're Mr. Nash's new nanny."