: Chapter 5

“Why are you up so early?” I hear from the entrance to the kitchen when Margot comes padding into the room. It’s early, almost seven in the morning, that Monday and I know she’s about to leave for school.

“It’s not that early,” I tell her.

I notice she’s not dressed in a uniform, but a long skirt with a t-shirt tucked into it, and it suddenly dawns on me that, unlike Isla and SJ, Margot doesn’t go to private school and I wonder why that is.

“SJ and Isla’s school doesn’t start until eight-thirty and good luck waking either of them up a second before seven-thirty.” She rubs her index finger in a jar of lip balm and glides it over her lips.

“Right, but I knew you would be leaving.”

“You’re up for…me?” She tilts her head to the side, and at this moment I wonder if she’s not used to anyone being concerned about just her.

“Sure. You should eat in the morning.”

“Oh, I usually stop for a bagel on the way.” She shrugs.

I narrow my eyes at her before looking at my imaginary watch and then back at her. “Don’t you have to be in first period at seven-ten?”

She shrugs before she slides her denim jacket on and pulls her wavy hair out of the neckline. “Okay, I might leave between first and second period to get breakfast.” I blink at her a few times, wondering why she feels so comfortable revealing that information to me. “Oh, I decided we could be friends.” She smiles and I shake my head at her because I do not intend to be the kind of friend that will keep those kinds of secrets. “Oh, come on, my second period is a joke. My teacher doesn’t care if I’m a little late.”

I narrow my eyes curiously. “What class is it?”

“AP bio?” she says with an innocent look.

“Margot! That doesn’t sound like a joke.”

“Whaaat?” she whines. “My teacher doesn’t care, as long as I bring him back something!”

“Well, I made you a breakfast sandwich.”

“What’s in it?”

“Just eggs and cheese on a whole wheat bagel. I know what you like,” I tell her, having spent the majority of my first night here studying their files.

“Fine,” she says, grabbing the sandwich I wrapped in aluminum foil. “I won’t go for breakfast today.”

“You shouldn’t be going at all. What if you’re missing information in that first half when you’re ditching?”

“My bio teacher is friends with Uncle River. I can assure you, I’m getting an A by default, I’ll see you later,” she says with a chuckle as she glides out of the room.

“That’s not doing you any favors for the AP test!” I call after her.

“When’s her AP test?” I hear Mr. Kincaid’s voice from around the corner and then I see him completely dressed in a charcoal gray suit, a crisp white shirt, and a powder blue and white striped tie. He moves through the kitchen and past me toward the Keurig and his scent wafts around me. God, he smells and looks good. Spicy and sexy as fuck.

“I’m…not sure. I’m guessing May?” I answer. I decide to keep the information about her perpetual absences from the first half of her biology class to myself for now and change the subject. “The notes you gave me didn’t give me any idea what you like in the mornings, but I made eggs and bacon. If you don’t have time to eat here, I can make you something to take,” I say holding up Tupperware.

“Oh, you don’t have to make breakfast for me.”

“I know…but I’m making it for the kids anyway.”

He looks toward the large bowl that has pancake batter. “You’re making pancakes?”

I nod. “Breakfast is the most important meal of the day at this age and Sawyer and Isla like pancakes.”

“True, but they don’t expect it during the week.” He takes his travel mug from the coffee maker and pulls it to his lips. “So, SJ goes back today and he has to meet with the counselor after school, so you’ll only be picking up Isla at three.”

“I saw it in the notes, I remember,” I tell him while I flip a pancake. “I was thinking we would go to the grocery store and then swing back after to get Sawyer. Is there anything you want or need me to get?” I say like one run-on sentence. I’ve been told that I need to take a break or at least a breath between thoughts and I inwardly cringe at the thought that I was talking too fast.

He doesn’t respond and I glance up at him to find him studying me. “I rarely meet people that aren’t lawyers whose minds work as fast as mine.” He chuckles and I turn back to the stove, hoping that he can’t see the slight embarrassment on my face. “Whatever you get is fine. Believe me, if you take Isla, she’ll have a list all her own before you even make it through the door,” he says as he grabs his bag. “Call me if you have any problems. You have my direct number at the office.”

“Yes, and your cell and your email and your…fax?” I wrinkle my nose and shake my head. “Not sure what I’d need that for but I appreciate that you have all the bases covered.”

“Right, well…”

“Go!” I tell him as I put a hand up and begin to wave him out of the kitchen. “I know what I’m doing. Your kids will all be alive when you get home.”

“It’s not them I’m worried about,” he grumbles before he’s out the door.

“So, you’re going to take us to school every day now?” Isla asks from the backseat.

We only had one meltdown this morning because she spilled syrup all over her lime green outfit, forcing her to change which meant her clothes no longer matched the sunglasses she wanted to wear. I normally advise children to wait and get dressed until after they eat for this exact reason, but Isla came downstairs fully dressed and I’ll admit I was impressed that she’s able to get herself ready in the morning with minimal assistance.

“I sure am,” I say as I look at her through the rearview mirror. “I’ll pick you up too.”

“Oh yay! Uncle River sometimes takes us to get a snack after school. Can we do that?” Isla asks.

“What kind of snack?”

“Ice cream or donuts!”

“So just pure sugar then?” I ask, starting to better understand why Isla seems to be in a permanent state of bouncing off the walls. “I think we can do that if sometimes we do something a little healthier too?” I look over my shoulder toward the surly ten-year-old who’s been in a mood ever since he came downstairs.

“Are you ready to talk about whatever is bothering you?” I ask him.

“He’s grumpy!” Isla adds and Sawyer turns to look at her.

“Santa isn’t real.” He deadpans.

“SAWYER!” I squeal and he turns to look at me with a grin despite the scowl on my face.

“She knows! I spoiled that for her ON ACCIDENT, last Christmas.”

Luckily, we are approaching a light, so I turn to look at Isla whose lip I can see trembling a little and I turn further to glare at Sawyer. Fix it! I mouth at him and he rolls his eyes and sighs.

“I’m sorry, Isles.” I hear a sniffle and when I look at her, she nods and holds her hand out for him. He takes it and then I see her slip her other hand under her sunglasses and wipe her eyes. I wonder if she’s really unpacked how she feels about that yet. We pull up to the school and Isla’s already halfway out of the car before I am.

“Wait, Isla!” I call after her.

“Sabrina and Cori!” she says before shutting the door and I see her take off for two girls standing not too far from the drop-off area.

“Those are her best friends. She’s fine,” Sawyer says as I get out of the car, my eyes trained on the three girls as they start jumping up and down.

“Do you need me to go in with you or anything?”

Sawyer gives me a look as if to say, are you kidding me? and shakes his head. “No, and you don’t need to take Isla in either. She usually meets up with her friends there or I’ll walk in with her.”

I nod, my eyes still not leaving the excited trio even as they skip their way toward the stairs. “Santa’s not real?” I snap my eyes to his just as they make it inside and I cross my arms over my chest.

“Sorry!”

I narrow my gaze at him. “You’re already on thin ice, Sawyer Jack!”

“If you’re going to call me that, you might as well call me SJ.” He rolls his eyes as he hoists his backpack on his shoulder. “I have to meet with the counselor after school. So, see you at four?” And now I’m wondering if that was the cause for his sour mood.

“I’ll be here.”

He’s gone without another look toward me and I watch as he high-fives a few kids on the way inside.

The day goes by pretty quickly as I spend most of it cleaning and doing the laundry that had been piling up in the laundry room. Even though the house is fairly clean, due to a housekeeper that Mr. Kincaid hires to come in once a week, I took it upon myself to do some deep cleaning. I also spent a good amount of time putting my things away in my room which happens to be directly across the hall from Mr. Kincaid’s office.

I’m just finishing vacuuming the hallway when I cast a glance toward his office. The door is open and though it would make sense for me to clean this room like the rest on this floor, part of me is hesitant to go in without him present. I cross the threshold reluctantly, deciding that a quick spin around the room is harmless. His office is mostly dark with a large shiny mahogany desk currently littered with papers, but in that way it almost looks organized. A cognac-colored leather chair sits behind the desk that matches an L-shaped couch in the corner. There’s a fireplace in the corner as well and just above it is a television mounted on the wall that sits between two floor-to-ceiling bookshelves with hundreds of books. I walk toward them and drag my eyes over the casebooks, encyclopedias, and assumedly other law books all organized alphabetically and then by size.

There’s a door that leads outside to a small terrace with two chairs and a small table where I also spot an ashtray with the remnants of a cigar. Next to it, there’s a hammock and I wonder how many nights in the past year he’s gone out there just to take a breather. I turn on the vacuum to finish up when something on his desk catches my attention. He doesn’t have a ton of pictures on his desk, just four solo pictures of each of the kids, but the one that catches my attention has all of them including their mother. It must have been when Isla was born because their mom is holding a pink bundle in her arms while Sawyer presses a kiss to Isla’s forehead. They are all staring down at her with bright beaming smiles and even though she’s not staring at the camera, I can tell how beautiful their mother was. Margot is the spitting image of her. Golden skin and luscious curls that were somewhere between blonde and brown. I know that she and Mr. Kincaid were divorced at the time of her death, but a part of me is now curious about the circumstances around their divorce.

Did he still have feelings for her? Are those feelings even stronger now that she’s gone and he’s dealing with not only his but his children’s grief?

I shake my head and turn away from the picture, refusing to let myself go down this road of questioning when it really should not matter.

It doesn’t. I’m just curious. I try to argue with myself while also trying not to cast another glance at the picture that Mr. Kincaid inevitably looks at several times a day.

Before I know it, it’s three and I’m back at Isla and Sawyer’s school. Isla comes running down the stairs toward me, her clothes slightly disheveled and her pigtails more than slightly lopsided.

“Hi, Ellie!” She twirls in a circle before launching herself toward me, wrapping her arms around me, and giving me a squeeze.

Remembering that she hugged me after only knowing me for a few minutes makes me wonder if she’s naturally affectionate or just trying to fill the void of a woman’s hugs. I kneel in front of her and tighten her pigtails.

“Hi! How was school?” I ask her while I pull her backpack from her and begin motioning her toward the car.

She’s already talking a mile a minute when I hear a woman’s voice cut through the conversation. “Excuse me?” I turn my head toward a woman wearing leggings and an oversized crewneck sweatshirt staring at me from over the top of her sunglasses. Her hair is a glossy chestnut brown with bouncy waves falling below her shoulders that can only be a product of a fresh blowout. She pans her gaze downward at Isla. “Isla, sweetheart, do you know this woman?”

“She’s my new nanny!” Isla cheers proudly and I give her a smile.

“Hi, yes. I’m Elianna Riley. Today is actually my first day, so you’ll be seeing much more of me.” I hold my hand out for her to shake and she gives me a smile in return that I am sure is fake before sliding her hand into mine.

“I see. I’m Abigail Covington, head of the parent-teacher administration. I…didn’t realize that Rowan was looking for a nanny. We have all been so worried about him.” She blinks at me a few times before looking me over, no doubt cataloging everything about me. “You’re a little young, no?”

“I…guess I met his age requirement?” I say with a small shrug, trying my best to keep the sarcasm out of my voice, but I hear hints of it.

“You can’t be much older than Margaret.” She narrows her gaze.

“I think you mean Margot?” I correct.

She paints on another fake smile and tilts her head to the side. “Of course. Well, Elianna it was lovely to meet you and I look forward to getting to know you. Please let me know if you need help with anything.”

“Great.” I nod. “I’ll be sure to let you know.” I open the door for Isla to climb into her seat. I typically nanny during the summer and only for families, so I’m not used to the single—or not-so-single—mom who sees the new nanny as a threat in her quest for the single dad. My eyes find her again, now standing with a group of other women all staring toward my car. I turn away from them and back toward Isla. “You ready to go?” She gives me a toothy smile and a thumbs up. “Great, now tell me about your day.”