The nanny Diaries

CHAPTER TWELVE

THE NANNY DIARIES

"I'm really concerned that you're going to fail out of school and be making other people for the rest of your life! This is a red flag here, Nan, if memory serves, you signed on to provide child care for this woman. That's all, right? Is she paying you more for this extra service?"

   "No, Mom, this is not a good time to be having---"
   "I mean, you should spend a day down here at the shelter kitchen. Get some perspective."
   "Okay, this a not a good time to be having---"
   "At least you'd be helping people who really need it. Maybe you should just pause for a second, look inside yourself, check in---"MOM" I tighten my chin to keep the phone from slipping out from under one ear as I grip a boiling pot of beets on my hands.

"I can't really look inside myself right now, because I am just calling to find out how to prepare Coquilles say what, for the love of Christ!"
   "I'm helping," Grayer says, a small hand coming up over the edge of the counter, groping for the paring knife I've just put down.
   "Gotta go."
   I lunge for the knife, sending twenty Coquilles flying onto the floor.
   "Cool! It's just like the beach, Nanny! Don't pick 'em up, leave 'em. I'm gonna go get my bucket." He scampered out of the kitchen as I drop the knife in the sink and crouch to collect the mollusks. I pick up one, then another, but as I grab for the third the first slides out of my hand, across the floor, directly into a gray snakeskin high heels. I jerk up to see a redhead woman in a gray suit standing squarely in the doorway.

   Grayer comes skipping around the corner holding his sand bucket, but freezes behind her when he sees my face.
   "I'm sorry, can I help you?" I stand, motioning for Grayer to come to me.
   "Yes," she says, "I'm here to do the seating arrangement." She saunters past me into the kitchen, pulling off her Hermès scarf and tying it around the handle of her slate-gray Gucci briefcase.
   She kneels to retrieve a Coquilles and turns to hand it to Grayer.
"Did you lose this?" she asks

   He looks up at me. "it's okay, Grove," I say, reaching out and taking it from her. "Hi, I'm Nanny."
   "Lisa Chenoweth, general manager of the Chicago office. And you must be Grayer," she says, setting her briefcase down.
   "I'm helping," he says, using his bucket to scoop up the remaining seafood.
   "I could use a helper." She smiles down at him. "Are you looking for a new job?"
   "Sure," he mumbles into his bucket.
   I dumb the shells in the colander and turn off the stove. "If you just give me a minute, I'll show you to the dining room."
   "Are you cooking for the party?" She asks, gesturing to the sink overflowing with pans.
   "No--- it's his dinner," I say, scraping burner beets out of the pot.
   "What ever happened to peanut butter and jelly?" She laughs, putting her briefcase down on the table.
   "Nanny, I want peanut butter and jelly."
   "Sorry, didn't mean to start a revolution," she says. "Grayer, I'm sure whatever Nanny is making you will be delicious."

   "Actually, pb & j sounds perfect," I say , pulling out the peanut butter from the fridge. Once I've seated Grayer in his booster settat the banquette I lead her to the dining room, where the long walnut table had been replaced by three round ones
   "Well, well," she murmurs as she steps in behind me. "She had them set up a whole day early --- that must have cost thousands." We both look down at the lavender-scented tables, festooned with shining silverware, sparkling crystal, and gilt-edged charger plates. "I'm sorry I won't be here."
   "You won't?"
   "Mr. X wants me back in Chicago." She smiles at me, then turns her attention to the rest of the room, admiring the Picasso over the mantel and the Rothko above the sideboard.
   I follow her to the living room and then the library. She takes in each jewel-toned room as if appraising it for auction. "Beautiful," she syas, fingering the raw silk drapes, "but a little overdone, don't you think?"

   Unaccustomed as I am to being asked my opinion in this household, I reach for the right words. "Um . . . Mrs. X has very definite tastes. Actually, since you're here, would you mind telling me if this looks okay?" I ask, bending behind Mr. X's desk to retrieve a gift bag.
   "What is it?" She asks, pulling her hair over her shoulder to peer inside
   "It's a gift bag for the guests. I wrapped them this morning, but I'm not sure if I did it right, because I couldn't find the right tissue paper and the ribbon Mrs. X wanted was out of stock---"
   "Nanny?" She cuts me off. "Is anyone on fire?"
   "Sorry?" I say, taken aback.
   "They're just gift bags. For a bunch of old geezers," she laughs, "I'm sure they're perfect--- relax."

   "Thanks, it just seemed like it was pretty important."
   She glances over my shoulder at the shelf of family pictures behind me. "I'm just going to check I with the office and then I'll do the place cards. Is Mrs. X coming back soon?"
   "Not till eight."
   She picks up the phone and bends over the mahogany desk to peer at a framed picture of Mr. X with Grayer atop his shoulders at the foot of a ski slope.

   "NAN-NY, I'M FIIII-NISHED!"
   "Okay, well, let me know if you need anything else," I say from the doorway as she slips off her black pearl earring and dials.
   "Thank you!" She mouths, giving me a thumbs up.

Nanny,
As a rule I don't like Grayer to have too many carbohydrates before bed. Tonight I've left all his food already measured out on the counter. If you could just put the beets, the kale, and the kohlrabi in the steamer for twelve minutes that should be perfect, but please try to stay out of the caterers way.
   You should probably give Grayer his dinner in his room. Actually, I might need to bring my dinner guests through when I give the tour. So it's probably best for you both to take your plates into his bathroom while you eat --- In case of spills.
   P.S. I'm counting on you to stay until Grayer is asleep and make sure that he doesn't intrude on the meal.
   P.P.S. I'll need you to pick up Grayer's Halloween costume tomorrow.

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