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Why couldn’t he see that?
“I know what you mean, Olivia,” Melanie said, thinking of her own mom. “I know exactly what you mean.”
The child didn’t look up from her plate, but her next words revealed everything, even if her tone was just as subtly guarded as it’d been earlier in the attic.
“My name’s Livie.”
Melanie swallowed back the tightness in her throat, then picked up her fork so they could eat their meal together.
She only wished that Zane Foley could be here, too—for his daughter, of course.
But when an unwelcome, low burn heated her belly, pooling down and down, Melanie admitted that maybe she also wanted him here for a different reason altogether.
Chapter Four
The days sped by with more dolls being delivered to Livie, more meals that Melanie took at the table with her charge and even more instructional hours for the girl.
But to supplement those regular study sessions, Melanie also brought her love of dance into the playroom, where Livie had been allowing her nanny to slowly but surely spend more time.
Still, out of all of those passing days, Zane Foley hadn’t paid a visit to Tall Oaks once, nor sent for Livie to come to Dallas.
Not even one darn time.
Oh, sure, there’d been phone calls to the little girl—about one every few days—but Melanie guessed they were more out of habit than a true need to connect with Livie, because each one left the child looking sadder than ever.
Yet, this only encouraged Melanie to step up her “save Livie” campaign, paying the child as much attention as the girl was open to on any given day. She showed her that someone really did care, even if Livie turned away from Melanie at times, and let those stuffed animals that had protected the playroom on that first day speak for her.
“They want you to leave them alone,” Livie would say sometimes. “They don’t need anyone to pretend they like them.”
Little did she know that Melanie wasn’t pretending; so the newest nanny hung in there, doing her best to give Livie her all.
She just wished she knew how to confront the problem of Zane Foley himself. How to talk some sense into him. How to make him see that he wasn’t doing Livie any favors by staying away.
Melanie wanted to despise him, but then night would come, when the wind thumped branches against the old house, when the moon shined through her window and lulled her to close her eyes and imagine how it had felt to touch him when she shook his hand.
How the contact had shaken her to the core.
And morning would arrive again, and she’d go right back to thinking about what to do about him and Livie.
Today, as the June sun spilled through the attic window, Livie had decided to celebrate summer—and her leaving kindergarten behind—with an impromptu performance for some of the house staff. Accordingly, the audience of two sat on the quilts spread over the floor in front of a makeshift blanket curtain that Livie and Melanie had constructed.
The little girl was behind it now, while Mrs. Howe and Cook waited.
Cook, who was in his chef’s whites, crossed his legs Indian-style and grinned at Melanie, who was just in front of the curtain, ready to open it. His name was Scott, and from that first week forward, he’d encouraged Melanie to call him that.
Meanwhile, Mrs. Howe sat in a ladylike position, her knees to the side, her pale skirt covering her legs. Her name was Sue, but when Melanie had dared use it one time, she’d gotten a raised eyebrow and hadn’t tried it since.
“Is it almost showtime?” Melanie asked Livie.
“Five minutes!” the girl said from behind the curtain.
“Okay.” Melanie smiled at the audience, then walked toward them, sitting on the edge of the quilt while making sure her sundress skirt was in place. “Last-minute rehearsals behind that curtain, I imagine,” she whispered. “Livie’s nervous.”
Scott shrugged, but he was so mellow that Melanie often suspected life was one big “oh, well” for him, anyway.
“It’s her first show,” he said. “The squirt can take her time to give us the premiere.”
Mrs. Howe sighed at the nickname “squirt.” She sighed a lot about Cook’s surfer-in-Texas attitude.
Melanie grinned at Scott. “I guess that’s the beauty of summer—no school to work a schedule around.”
“But,” Mrs. Howe said, “a schedule’s still important.”
During the past weeks, Melanie and the manager had experienced some…philosophical differences…about many things, although Mrs. Howe hadn’t tipped off Zane Foley to the new nanny’s slight adjustments. At least, that’s what Melanie suspected, because her boss hadn’t rung her up yet to give her a talking to or fire her.
“You’re right,” Melanie said, “schedule’s are important, and we still have one. Livie does well with them, so it seemed counterproductive to change her way of life midstream. But there’s room for flexibility when it’s warranted.”
Scott playfully made the sign of the cross, like he was extending Mrs. Howe some help in fighting off Melanie’s words.
“Mrs. Howe,” he said, “would lose her mind without lists and charts and diagrams. Them’s fightin’ words, Mel.”
The manager made a dismissive gesture at him, as if that would cause him to disappear, but she had an air of barely restrained amusement just the same. Melanie had decided that Scott was like Mrs. Howe’s little brother, and their relationship was one long drive in a backseat where they get on each other’s nerves.
Nothing romantic, though, Melanie thought. Mrs. Howe had a husband down the hill in their own cottage, and Scott had mentioned something to Melanie once about a serious girlfriend.
Livie’s voice came from behind the curtain. “Almost ready!”
“Okay,” all the adults answered back.
Scott kept looking toward the performance area, but now there was something pensive about him.
Melanie leaned near so her voice wouldn’t have to carry. “What is it?”
He started to talk, then stopped, shrugged and smiled vaguely.
Melanie knew if she waited long enough he would go on.
And he did.
“It’s nice to see her like this,” he said. “I don’t know exactly what you’re doing, Mel, but I can’t imagine Livie ever wanting to give any kind of performance before you came along.”
Melanie blushed, knowing she was no miracle-worker.
Whispering, she said, “Livie’s giving her performance in an attic, so it’s not as if this is some grand coming out for her.”
“Oh,” Mrs. Howe said, “but it is.”
For the first time, Melanie saw a pleased openness about the other woman, and that took her aback.
Melanie glanced away from the others and their approval; she wasn’t willing to accept credit for anything, because there was still such a long way to go. There were even times when Livie would sit quietly staring out the window, and Melanie feared that no one would ever be able to get in. And there were the days when Livie could be so stubborn that it stretched Melanie’s supply of patience to the breaking point.
Those were the moments when she could see why the other nannies had walked away. However, Melanie had come to the realization that it hadn’t been Livie who’d driven the others away, so much as it’d been the hopelessness of the situation itself. Maybe it even broke their hearts to be so strict with the child.
The difference was that Melanie vowed to never give up.
“At any rate,” Scott said, getting her attention again, “you’re a real find, Mel. Mrs. H. agrees with me, too.”
The manager hmphed. “I wasn’t sure at first.”
“You came around quick enough from the opinion you used to have.” Scott made his voice higher, imitating Mrs. Howe. “‘Mr. Foley has no idea how to pick ’em, does he? Set a pretty face in front of him, and he’s sold.’”
“Cook,” Mrs. Howe admonished.
“That’s what you said,” Scott added, that little-brother mischief in his eyes.
But Melanie was barely paying mind to that.
Pretty?
Zane Foley had only called her “spirited” on the phone to his brother, but did the employees at Tall Oaks know something else?
And…Wait.
Had the other nannies caught Zane Foley’s eye?
A spear of jealousy stabbed her, and she scolded herself. Ridiculous to even be thinking it. Or to believe he’d hired her because she was slightly above average.
Still, she’d been spending so much time tuning in to any and all clues from the staff about the distant Mr. Foley that she all but vibrated now with this tidbit from Scott. No one but Monty had really talked about their boss—or the subject of Danielle—so she was much too open to any leaked detail.
“Ready!” Livie finally called out.
Melanie stood and went to the boom box by the curtain. She selected the Enya song Livie wanted to dance to and pulled back the material to reveal the little girl, who was dressed in a pink leotard and ballet slippers that Zane Foley had sent the second day of Melanie’s tenure.
Mrs. Howe and Scott applauded, but as the synthesized strings began to play, the child just stood there, staring at them.
“Livie?” Melanie stage-whispered.
The child fixed her doe eyes on her nanny, as if forgetting everything Melanie had taught her about any of the dances they’d tried so far. They hadn’t even come up with a routine for this performance, because Melanie had just encouraged her to do whatever the song inspired at any given moment, whether it was ballet or contemporary or even a few tap moves.
Maybe that had been a mistake.
Maybe Livie did need that firmer structure she was so used to. Maybe she couldn’t depend on anything else.
Heart contracting, Melanie took the girl’s hands and began to dance with her. Livie reacted immediately, still looking into her nanny’s eyes as if nothing else existed, and laughing as she imitated everything Melanie did.
Soon the song was over and the audience clapped again, shouting out their “bravos” as the performers took their curtsies.
Livie’s cheeks were flushed while she kept smiling up at Melanie.
The breath caught in Melanie’s throat. No one had ever looked at her that way—not even the other children she’d cared for—and without thinking, she bent to wrap her arms around Livie.
The girl hugged her back, resting her head on her nanny’s shoulder.
For a moment the world seemed to stop, to clarify everything about what Melanie wanted: being needed and being able to give as much as she got from just one simple embrace.
Her imagination kicked into motion, picturing another pair of arms around them, hugging them all close together, creating the cocoon of a family that Melanie had never truly had.
Zane Foley’s arms.
The sound of hammers against the back of the house knocked Melanie out of the moment. It was the maintenance crew, getting Tall Oaks in shape for the charity event that would take place here on the Fourth of July. Obviously, their break was over.
At least Livie would get to see her father then, Melanie thought, drawing back from the girl and smoothing a dark, wavy strand of hair away from her face.
As if she could read Melanie all too well, Livie got that sad look in her eyes, then hugged her nanny once more before backing away and going to Mrs. Howe and Scott, who congratulated her with their warm gestures.
It was nice while it lasted, Melanie thought. Maybe she was just as starved for affection as Livie.
When Mrs. Howe’s phone rang with a chirping tone, Livie listened to Scott as he told her about his favorite part of the dance. In the meantime, the woman extracted the device from her pocket, checking the ID screen, and her relaxed demeanor altered as she answered the phone.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Foley,” she said.
A burst of adrenaline jolted Melanie from head to toe, warming her—no, heating her—through and through.
She shut off the boom box, lending the attic silence as she noticed that Livie had gone bright-eyed and hopeful, watching Mrs. Howe talk to her dad.
Once again, Melanie hurt for her, because she knew that he’d just called Livie yesterday and he wasn’t yet scheduled to do so again.
Darn it all, what could she do to take care of this situation?
Mrs. Howe kept talking to him, nodding, assuring him that the maintenance crew was making headway with the exterior of the mansion. In the meantime, Livie grabbed the manager’s skirt, as if to get her dad’s attention through Mrs. Howe.
Unable to stand it anymore, Melanie went to Livie, resting a hand on the girl’s head.
“Can I talk to him?” the little girl whispered to Mrs. Howe.
Something like a heartfelt reaction overtook the manager’s face. She looked at Melanie almost regretfully, while tacitly asking her to usher Livie out of the room so Zane Foley could conduct business without interruption.
Anger boiled in Melanie, taking over—or maybe even mixing—with the surge of awareness she’d been feeling before.
She got down to Livie’s height. “Maybe we should try calling him later,” she whispered, “after business hours?”
That sorrow—so familiar, so gut-wrenching—consumed Livie’s gaze.
Scott shook his head while wandering out of the room, and Melanie thought that he might’ve been expecting more of her—the woman who’d taken Livie under her wing.
And shouldn’t he?
Mrs. Howe signed off, silent, as if not knowing how to react or what to say to the little girl who’d been all but forgotten here at Tall Oaks.
